Page 122 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Yes. That’s true.”

They watched a few more minutes, until Wyatt and Jet tired of the soccer ball and flopped into the grass to gaze at the clouds scuttling overhead. They chatted as they lay there, passing Jet’s phone back and forth, and eventually, Jet pulled out earbuds and handed one to Wyatt.

“Whatever else is going on with those two,” Tris said, “it’s something they became friends so fast. Not all kids in Jet’s shoes would be so open.”

“Natalie did a good job with him. With both of them.”

“And you will too. Trust that.”

Myles sighed. “I’m trying to.”

“Am I overstepping to ask what you plan to do about his father?”

“You know about that?”

“Don’t be pissed at Ozzy. He tells me everything. You tell him, you’re telling me. At least where our friends are concerned. It’s how we roll.”

“Hey.” Ozzy appeared behind them, a hand on Tris’s shoulder, a quick kiss dropped on his hair. “Play time’s over. Wyatt!” He knocked on the glass of the open window. “Need a hand in here, buddy.”

Wyatt handed Jet his earbud back and got up. It looked like Jet was going to follow him, so Myles pulled himself together.

“First,” he said to Tris, “I’m going to go talk to him. After that?” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows.”

“You’ve got this,” Tris said, and Ozzy patted his shoulder as Myles left them.

“Hey, Jet.”

“I’m going to help⁠—”

“I need to talk to you, please.”

Jet scowled and tossed his hair. “What about?”

“Your father.”

The stillness that overcame Jet was a little eerie, as the warm breeze died down around them at the same time. “What about him?”

“Can we sit?”

Jet shrugged, but plopped back down in the grass on the slight hill between the yards where he and Wyatt had been lying.

Myles got down next to him, deliberately not thinking about how much he might regret it once he had to get up again.

How was he going to start this conversation? He watched Jet wipe off his earbuds and carefully insert them into their case, then push the case into his pocket.

“Did you find out what he wants?” Jet finally asked.

Myles nodded.

Another stretch of silence drifted past as they watched Shelly hug Scratch, then toss the ball so the dogs could trip over themselves and each other to get it first.

“You going to tell me?”

“Partly, it’s about his will.”

“I don’t want his money,” Jet blurted.

Myles chuckled. “Do you have any idea what the man is worth?”