Page 93 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Jet, you need to calm down,” he said into his phone as he went. “I will be there in a minute. I’m hanging up now. I suggest you take a few deep breaths before I get there. You can be mad at me, but you had better show some respect.”

Myles didn’t have to hang up the call. Jet did.

“For fuck sakes.”

He slowed his walk to call Lucky and give him a heads-up about what had happened. He wanted to warn him about Wyatt, but also reassure him that Jet’s panic had been premature.

“Hey,” he said when Lucky picked up.

“Are you okay?” The strain in Lucky’s tone made Myles’s gut twist.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You can drive?”

“Shit. Lucky⁠—”

“Can you drive?”

“Yes. This wasn’t a relapse. I⁠—”

A shallow stream of relieved swearing interrupted him.

Myles waited it out.

“Okay. Well. Can we talk when you get back?”

“Yeah, of course. I swear, this was not what you’re thinking. I’ll tell you everything when I’m back, but…”

“But what?”

“Do you have a shelter bed?”

“For who?”

“His name’s Wyatt.”

“Yeah. Of course I do. I’ll sort it out. Are you bringing him back with you?”

“No. He’ll be there after five sometime. A cop named Clairemont is bringing him.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to see him again.”

“The cop?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you know him.”

“Of course I do. Hurry up and go get your kids.”

“Yeah.”

“And Myles.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry for my assumption. I guess Jet’s panic was infectious.”