Page 98 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Fine.” He had reached the table, and he took Shelly’s backpack from where it hung on her chair. “Let’s go, squirt.”

“Okay.” She hopped down, took his hand and reached for Jet’s with her other.

Jet smiled at her, took her hand, and they headed for the door. He only let go when he had to open the door; then he held it for everyone, and Shelly was off, talking a mile a minute about her classes and teachers and the other kids.

By the time Myles had managed to pause her long enough to turn to say something to Jet, his nephew was already in Ozzy’s truck and slamming the door.

“Right.”

Ozzy shrugged as he started the engine, and as he’d been advised, Myles let it go. Not like he had much choice.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jet didn’t stay at the shop long after Myles left to bring Shelly to her classes at the Y. The quiet, after he left, and Steven took over from Stephanie, was loud. It was great to have his dad’s stereo system working again, but even with that, the bookshop was beginning to feel oddly small.

It had never felt that way before. Steven had never needed space away from his space. At least, not for years now. Not since the months following their parents’ deaths. He liked it here. He was comfortable. Maybe the feeling of needing a moment’s peace from the place was down to the way the building kept reminding him it was there.

It was small things at first. Blinking lights for no reason. The radio going fuzzy until he said something about it out loud. Finding the windows open to let in too much heat upstairs so he didn’t feel like lounging there when the shop was closed or he had a break.

Now, when he wandered into the front room at closing time, he found the front door wide open.

“What the hell?” His father had installed a spring mechanism on the door to make sure it closed after customers coming and going, and it had always worked just fine. “What are you up to?”

That was the moment he saw Jake scuttling with purpose across the street, and he stepped out onto the porch to greet him as he mounted the sidewalk on their side.

“Jake?”

Both of Jake’s fists were scrunched tight at his sides, and he glared at the ground as he mounted the steps. He still wore his Oaks serving staff apron tied precisely around his waist.

“What’s wrong?”

Jake’s jaw worked, a sure sign he was choosing his words and trying hard to make sure he moderated his volume. Getting too loud was only ever an issue when he was truly upset, and the fact he was actively thinking about it was both worrisome and impressive.

Steven waited.

“You should come,” Jake said at last, eyes still on the ground between them.

“Come where?” Steven frowned across the street at the B and B where Jake had come from.

“He got in a fight.”

“Who did?”

Jake lifted his gaze to Steven’s chest. “He has bruises, and if he gets too hurt, you’ll be hurt. So.” He stomped one foot. “You should come.”

“Are you talking about Myles?”

That got a vigorous nod.

“Does Lucky know you came to get me?” Best to push back against the instant worry, the almost panic that Myles might, in fact, be seriously injured. Focus on the practical. Focus on Jake and what he needed. That was easiest.

Unnecessary, probably. Jake seemed to be doing just fine.

“Oh.” His gaze dropped like lead back to the porch. “He’ll be mad.”

“More likely worried.” Steven glanced behind him at the open door to the shop, but even as he did, it swung shut and locked itself. “Goddammit.” Out of curiosity, he tried the handle, which of course, didn’t turn.

Jake shuffled his feet.