“Oh.” I huff out a laugh at myself. I’m being silly with my reactions. Part of me settles, knowing why he’s here. “I don’t have a huge selection, but I have a few over here.” I walk toward the other end of the store to show him. “I don’t really know a lot about comics, but these ones seem popular.” I point to the zombie apocalypse series all the teenagers rush in to buy when a new one is released. “And Abbie loves K-pop, so she helped me pick some of those on the other end. They’re probably pretty light, though.”
He bobs his head, looking over the shelves. “Not a bad selection.”
“If there’s anything in particular you want, I’m sure I could order it in.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll make a list, if that’s okay? I’ve been ordering a series online, but the postage is brutal.” He jiggles the package under his arm. He looks around my space. “You’ve got a great space here. The community needs it.”
That familiar pang of guilt for letting the community down settles in the pit of my stomach. I try to push it away, but the dead weight of it lingers. I stare at the shelves for a long moment before realizing I’ve been silent too long. Theo is eyeing me with concern.
I clear my throat and force a smile. “Thanks. I’m thinking about renovations,” I say. “Nothing massive. Just updating displays, adding better lighting. I want to do more events.”
“That’s amazing. I can help,” he offers immediately. “I’m not a contractor or anything, but I can use a drill. Knock stuff down.”
My chest warms at the offer. In such a short time, Theo has slotted himself into Willowrun like he’s always been here. He’s a bigger part of the community now than I am. Maybe that’s what makes me want to try harder. I’ve been hesitant to let new people in, cautious… overly cautious, maybe, but I’d like to be friends with Theo. I haven’t spoken directly to him much, but when I have, he’s always been nice.
“That would be great,” I say, and mean it.
“Also,” he adds, eyeing the space, “we could do something between our shops. Like a tattoo/book crossover event, if you wanted. I’ve got ideas. Could be cool to do something around Christmas.”
The part of me that wants to hide between the shelves rears its ugly head. I think about the author event I did recently, and the email I sent to Dani. I’m capable of doing this. I want to do it.
“I’m in,” I say. The thought of collaborating with other local businesses excites me. For a moment, I feel like all my old visions for the bookstore are becoming something I could actually achieve.
Theo nods and leaves with a casual wave. I spend the rest of the afternoon serving customers, looking over the unpublished online store, and thinking way too much about the way Noah kissed me that morning.
By the time I lock up, I’m buzzing with energy. I clean up the shop in record time, go upstairs, and change. I’m heading to Aiden’s for an early dinner.
Aiden opens the door, Rose perched on his hip, her dark curls wild and her cheeks pink from whatever adventure she’s been having.
“Uncle Gabe!” she says in a high-pitched squeak.
A grin splits my face. “Hi, Rosey Posey. Are you feeling better?”
She giggles, almost headbutting Aiden in the process. He jerks out of the way just in time, and answers my question, “Yeah, she is, thankfully, just catches everything at daycare.” He steps back to let me in. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”
The place smells like roasted garlic and something sweet—honey, maybe. Rose wiggles until Aiden sets her down, then she toddles off to show me a stuffed rabbit she’s apparently renamedPickles.I crouch to listen to her serious-toned babbling, pretending to take notes when she informs me of Pickles’ bedtime routine.
“Still the favorite uncle,” I say jokingly when she runs off again.
“Only uncle,” Aiden fires back, clattering pans in the kitchen. “Makes it easier for you to hold the title.”
“Noah’s her uncle, too,” I respond a little defensively.
His face softens at that, and he nods his head. “Yeah, he is.”
I follow him into the kitchen, watching him check the chicken he has roasting in the oven. He looks so at ease in parenthood;it suits him. He’s always been a solid presence, those nurturing and protective instincts have only grown now that he has Rose.
The smell sifts through the room as he closes the oven door. “That smells great, what is it?” I ask as my mouth waters.
“Honey-roasted chicken with garlic, lavender, and roasted Vegetables,” he answers smugly.
“Lavender?” I question in shock. I didn’t think my brother got fancy in the kitchen.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Knew you’d like it.”
I see the pleased smile on his face, though. My brother, the big, muscled softie.
“So Noah’s closing up tonight,” he states, wiping down the counter.
