Jack collapses over my back, taking his weight on his hands. He presses a soft kiss to my neck, rests his forehead in my hair. Sighs.

    “Jack? You okay?”

    He releases the restraints and pulls me up to my knees, settling me back against his body as he rubs my wrists to restore my circulation. “Fucks with my head, wanting to hurt you and protect you at the same time.”

    “I trust you, Jack. I know you would never go too far.”

    “Means a lot to me, you saying that.” He tightens his arms around me.

    “Does that mean you’ll stay the night?” I check the clock. “It’s three a.m. No point going all the way home when there’s a nice soft bed right here.”

    “I gotta be at the gym at six a.m. on Saturdays, and I have to pick up my gear first.” He eases away and grabs his jeans as he goes to dispose of the condom, leaving me bereft. I pull my T-shirt down and slide back under the covers. Jack returns fully clothed, and stands in the doorway. Although he’s not far from the bed, it feels like he’s miles away.

    “You busy later?” he says, finally. “Maybe we can hook up for lunch.”

    “Third Saturday in the month I always go to Ambleside, it’s a seniors’ home in Alameda. I play some bingo, a little backgammon, hang with my friend Rose…”

    “Seniors’ home? You got grandparents here?”

    I tuck the covers tight around me. “No, but I got to know the director when she brought a couple of the residents to one of Amanda’s legal aid clinics to get their wills done. Rose was one of them. She was found on the street with a big bag stuffed with cash. No ID. No family. And she doesn’t talk. She seemed so sad. I went to visit the next week and I brought Clarice with me. The director said that was the first time she saw Rose smile. I’ve been going every month to see her and spend time with some of the other residents who don’t have family or friends.”

    He stares at me for a long moment, and then his face softens, warms. “Fuck me,” he says softly. He unbuckles his belt, strips off his jeans.

    Hope flares in my chest. “What are you doing?”

    “Got a few hours, and I want to spend it lying beside the prettiest fucking girl I ever laid eyes on, who’s so busy giving out caring she doesn’t get any for herself.” He throws back the covers and slides into bed beside me.

    Warmth blooms inside me. I snuggle up against him, rest my head against his chest.

    “Are you sure you won’t go up in flames when the sun comes up?” I tease. “Or break out in a rash because you’re in a girl’s bed? Or—”

    “Maybe I didn’t whip you enough in the office,” he muses, his hand gently caressing my still-tender behind.

    “I’m suddenly feeling very sleepy and not really in the mood for all this talking.” I lean up and nuzzle his neck. “I’m glad you’re staying, even if it is only for a few hours.”

    “Yeah, me too.”

    I drift off to sleep; the only thing ruining this perfect moment is Jack’s taut, tense body beneath me.

    * * *

    Clarice and I arrive at Ambleside Meadows just before noon.

    Julie, the executive director, greets me at the door of the Shaker-style building decorated in cream, mauve, and sage. Thin and wiry, with short blond hair and so much energy she puts even the MMA fighters to shame, Julie is one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. Ambleside is her dream—a retirement home with a difference. Every weekend, she invites people from the community to share their talents with the retirees, who can then share their experience in turn. They learn from each other, and as a result, her residents are happier and more engaged in the community. “We’ve got a full house today,” she says. “Chess player, opera singer, accountant, actor, a pastry chef…”

    “And me and my cat.” I put down my kitty travel carrier, and Clarice meows in protest.

    “Our marketing genius.” Julie beams and waves her hand at the Ambleside logo on the door that I designed for them the first year I started visiting.

    When Julie first brought her residents to see Amanda about getting wills drafted, she mentioned that Ambleside might be reverting to an ordinary care home at the end of the year. Although her residents loved the community involvement program, she had been unable to attract enough volunteers to make it viable or enough residents who were willing to pay the higher fee for the service, given the stiff competition in the area.

    The first time I walked in the door, I knew why. No branding, no logo, nothing to catch the eye, capture the imagination, or differentiate them from other care homes. In my free time, I sketched a few things for Julie and put her in touch with another one of Amanda’s clients in a marketing firm. Six months later, they had a waiting list, not just of residents but also of people in the community who were interested in helping out.

    “I thought she was a legal assistant,” says a deep voice behind me, soft with a Southern twang.

    I spin around, startled when I see Jack behind me. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

    “You gave me the name. Wasn’t hard to track down.” Jack leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I do three hours on, three hours off on Saturdays. Thought I’d spend my three hours off seeing what you get up to when I’m not around.”

    A thrill of joy runs through my body. He came all this way for me. For the briefest of moments I feel something I’ve never felt before—wanted, worthy, and insanely happy.

    A smile splits Julie’s face. “You have a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me?”

    My joy wavers a little, and I glance over at Jack, still uncertain where we stand. “We’re just…uh…friends,” I stammer. “This is Jack. He’s a professional MMA fighter. I think some of the guys here might enjoy talking to him.”