Chapter 26
Gingerbread Therapy
CALEB
Walking through the frat house is like navigating a minefield.
Every conversation stops when I enter a room.
Guys who normally punch my shoulder in greeting now nod solemnly, asking how I'm doing in hushed tones usually reserved for funeral homes.
It's been two days since James and I broke up, and the entire fraternity is treating me like I might shatter at any moment.
It's exhausting.
I'm in the kitchen making coffee when Drew finds me. He leans against the counter, trying too hard to look casual.
"Morning," he says, watching me stir cream into my mug.
"Morning," I reply, bracing for another well-meaning check-in.
"So, about today..."
Deep breath out. "What's happening today?"
"The Rainbow Haven House event? The gingerbread thing?"
My stomach drops. In the chaos of the past few days, between investigating my father's manipulation and avoiding James, I'd completely forgotten about the promise I'd made weeks ago.
"Right," Oh shit. "What time are we heading over?"
Drew studies me carefully. "You still want to go? I mean, with everything..."
By "everything," he means the awkward dance James and I have been doing around the house.
James has barely been around, but when he is, his presence fills every room like a storm cloud.
He's snapped at Tyler for asking if he's okay, barked at Gavin for trying to fix him breakfast, and generally made it clear he wants to be left alone.
"I said I would go. Is that going to be a problem?"
Drew shrugs. "Not for me. But James will be going as well. It's kind of his thing."
"I figured." The coffee burns as I swallow it. Whiskey would be better. "Look, we're adults. We can be in the same room for a few hours without the world ending."
He looks unconvinced. "If you're sure..."
"I'm sure." The truth is, I'm desperate for a chance to talk to James, to explain that I know my father manipulated us both. Or at least apologize for believing the worst. Whether he'll listen is another matter entirely.
"Cars leave at one," Drew says, pushing off the counter. "Gavin's driving the SUV if you want a ride."
"I'll be there."
As he leaves, I stare into my coffee and wonder if I'm making a huge mistake.
Rainbow Haven House isn't what I expected. Located on the edge of town, it's a three-story building that might have once been a small community center or church. The white paint is peeling, the front steps sag slightly, and one of the downspouts on the gutter hangs awkwardly.
However, there are also signs of care, including window boxes filled with winter plants, a neatly swept walkway, and a large rainbow flag flying proudly from a nearby pole.
"What do you think?" Gavin asks as we climb out of his SUV. Two other cars with frat guys are pulling up behind us.
"It's..." Can't say 'depressing.' Can't say 'a dump.' What's the word that won't insult anyone?
"A dump?" Gavin supplies cheerfully. "James says they spend all their funding on the kids, not the building."
That makes sense, but as I look up at the sagging roofline and think about teenagers living here, I can't help but feel a twinge of concern. The place needs serious work, not only cosmetic repairs, but structural ones.
Inside is marginally better. The foyer opens into a large common room where several foldout tables have been set up, waiting for the decorating supplies to arrive.
The walls are painted in bright colours but with visible patches and repairs. Despite the obvious age of everything from the furniture to the light fixtures, it's warm and clean.
About twenty teenagers mill around, eyeing our group with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. They're diverse in every way: race, style, and gender expression. They all share a wariness I recognize all too well. It's the look of kids who've learned adults can't always be trusted.
A tall man with warm brown skin and a neatly trimmed beard approaches us, extending his hand to Drew first.
"Drew! Thanks for bringing the guys." He turns to the rest of us with a wide smile. "I'm Marcus Rodriguez, house manager. Welcome to Rainbow Haven."
As Marcus is introduced to the guys, I scan the room for James, finally spotting him in a far corner, deep in conversation with a girl with pink hair and multiple piercings.
She's waving her hands around while smiling, and I'm struck by how relaxed James looks, more at ease than I've ever seen him at the frat house or on campus.
"And you must be Caleb," Marcus says, pulling my attention back. "James has mentioned you."
"All good things, I hope." The words are out before I think about them. Awkward. So damn awkward.
"Let me show you guys around before we get started," Marcus offers, either not noticing my discomfort or kindly ignoring it.
As we follow him through the building, I'm increasingly troubled by what I see.
Despite obvious efforts to make the space warm and welcoming, there are many signs that the facility is struggling to maintain its basic infrastructure, including water stains on the ceilings, cracked bathroom tiles, and outdated kitchen appliances.
When Marcus points out the small library where teens can study, I even see several boarded-up windows.
"How many kids stay here?" We walk back towards the common room.
"We have beds for twenty-six," Marcus explains. "We're almost always at capacity, with a waiting list."
"And they're all...?" The question hangs because there's no tactful way to finish it.
"LGBTQ+ youth who've been kicked out or run away from unsafe home situations? Yeah." His expression is a mixture of pride and sadness. "Some stay for a few days, some for years. Our goal is to get them stable, finish their education, and build the skills they need for independence."
"Is there much support from the university?" Father's connections with PCU's board. Those could be useful.
"We have a partnership program for GED preparation and university applications," Marcus says. "But funding is always a challenge."
I'm about to ask more when I see a wire hanging from a smoke detector and then another blinking detector right next to it. "Is that two…?”
Marcus follows my gaze and sighs. "Yeah, our wired fire system is... let's say 'temperamental.' It's on the list, but—"
"But the funding goes to the kids first." Gavin's words from earlier.
"Exactly." Marcus shoots me an appraising look. "You seem concerned."
"I am. This place is important, but it needs work to be safe."
"Tell me about it," he says with a rueful laugh. "I have a wish list a mile long. Since the kids here have fallen through the cracks of a broken system, we are doing the best we can.” He rubs a hand over his hair in frustration. “But unless you've got a construction company in your back pocket..."
An idea begins to form in my mind, one that has nothing to do with James and everything to do with the reality of what I'm seeing. "What if I could help? My family has connections, donors, and people who could make a difference here."
Marcus looks skeptical. "That's generous, but—"
"I'm serious. These kids deserve better than leaky roofs and faulty wiring."
Drew, who's been listening nearby, approaches with a curious expression. "Is this about James?" he asks quietly. "Are you trying to impress him?"
The question would have angered me a few weeks ago, but now I understand it comes from genuine concern. "It's a fair question. But no. This is about kids who deserve a better start to adulthood. I'll figure out James on my own."
Drew studies me for a moment, then nods. "Good answer. Let me know how I can help."
Before Marcus can say anything else, a cheer goes up from the common room.
"Looks like your Japanese friend arrived with the supplies," Marcus says with a grin. "Time to get this party started."
Haru, looking more comfortable than I've seen him since Christmas Eve, is supervising the unloading of shopping bags filled with discount gingerbread house kits, frosting, and enough candy to send a small army into sugar shock.
"Clearance was eighty-five percent off!" he announces proudly. "I negotiated with the store manager for an additional discount when buying in bulk."
"The man's a retail ninja," James comments, appearing at Marcus's side. His eyes flick to me briefly before looking away. "Hey, guys," he adds, careful to address the group rather than me specifically.
"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Marcus claps his hands to get the room's attention.
"For those who don't know, this is our annual Gingerbread Disaster competition.
The tradition started six years ago when James and his roommate realized that gingerbread houses get marked down to practically nothing after Christmas. "
James shifts uncomfortably at the attention, but I see a small, proud smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"The rules are simple," Marcus says. "Teams of three or four.
You have an hour and a half to decorate your gingerbread house in the most ridiculous, hideous, or bizarre way possible.
Prize basket for the winners includes gift cards from local businesses, some cool tech accessories from our friends at TechWorld, and bragging rights for the year. "
The teens are already gravitating toward the tables, some pairing up with friends, others looking shyer. The frat guys spread out, introducing themselves and joining various groups. I hang back, unsure where to go until Haru spots me and waves enthusiastically.
"Caleb! Come join our team!" he calls, pointing to the table where he's setting up with, of course, James.
A ripple of awkward silence spreads through the nearby frat brothers. James stiffens, looking like he might bolt. Haru glances between us, confusion dawning on his face as he picks up on the tension.
"Did I mistake something?" he asks innocently.