Page 234 of That Rush

She smiles and returns to the shelf.

The key rests against my palm as I reach into the crate. Paige gave it to me because she chose to, and I can accept it without pretending it opens every door whenever I want.

Access means more when neither of us assumes it.

Chapter 34

Paige

The final circle on Josie’s summer-reading map has been empty all summer and approximately six minutes too long.

She slides the bright yellow card across the circulation desk with both hands and places a chapter book on top of it.

“I finished.”

Aiden stands behind her carrying two empty supply boxes, a folding sign, and the expression of a man who has been listening to this countdown since breakfast.

“All of it?” I ask.

Josie gasps. “I never skip the ending.”

“Your father does.”

“I read the important parts,” Aiden says.

“You read until you’re sure you know the ending, then get offended when the book proves you wrong.”

Josie looks over her shoulder. “That’s skipping.”

“Thank you,” I tell her.

Aiden’s eyes narrow at both of us. “Can we confirm the twenty books before this becomes a coordinated attack?”

I open Josie’s book and ask her what happened after they found the missing horse. Her answer includes a cave, a thunderstorm, and a detailed critique of the adults’ decision-making.

I stamp the final circle.

“You did it.”

Josie cheers loudly enough to interrupt the closing celebration behind us. Several children abandon the craft table to see what happened, and she holds up her completed map.

“I read twenty books!”

Applause moves through the children’s section. Josie glows beneath the applause, proud and pink-cheeked. I hand her the glittery dragon sticker she chose on the first day of the challenge.

Aiden sets everything beside the workroom door where I told him to leave it. Over the past hour, he has carried tables, restocked water, found three missing pairs of scissors, and kept the snack station from becoming a frosting-related crime scene.

Each time, he’s asked before changing anything. The instinct to solve a problem is still there, I can see it in his face, but now he waits. He checks if it’s his problem to solve at all.

“Where do you want the extra prize bags?”

“Behind the desk, please.”

He nods and carries them there.

One of the mothers beside the checkout station watches him go. “He’s very helpful.”

“He’s had extensive training.”