Page 12 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Okay.”

If she tried to slam the door on her way out, the house didn’t let her, and for that, Steven was grateful. She might not like that he preferred to stay at home, but then again, she didn’t have to like it. She just had to let him be who he was.

The bell labelled LABYRINTH OF DOOM tinkled, and he glanced up at it.

When they had been kids, their father would ring the bell when he was down there going through one of his many boxes and he found something he thought one of them might like.

For a long time after their parents had died, the house continued to ring the bell daily. Steven had tended to leave, wander the town, do anything anywhere he couldn’t hear that stupid bell.

When the house began to ring it multiple times a day, Steven had finally gone down, intending to yank the connecting wires out of the wall. Instead, he’d wandered through the maze of boxes, remembering how much his father had loved to open them, like it was Christmas every day.

He didn’t do more than wander and feel lost that first time, but eventually, he’d opened a box, then another, slowly taking over where his father had left off, acquiring books, selling books, cataloguing books, expanding into magazines, comics, graphic novels, and most recently, vinyl LPs.

He hadn’t stopped missing his parents. He figured none of them had. But he still had his twin and their younger brother, the shop and the house, and it was getting better.

He glanced at the bell now and smiled. There were always more boxes.

CHAPTER FOUR

The B and B looked just as Myles imagined a B and B should look. Which made perfect sense, and also no sense, since the floral prints, cozy wing-back chairs, overstuffed sofas, and window seats made for a fussy, almost Victorian image that in no way jived with Kreed’s red-and-black flannel or Lucky’s frayed jean shorts and sweatshirt.

Lucky laughed and punched his arm, obviously reacting to something on Myles’s face. “Not what you expected?”

“To be honest, I guess I don’t know what I expected.”

“We don’t make all the design choices,” Kreed gruffed. “Mildred has her own ideas.”

Myles drew his brows together. “Who’s Mildred?”

“The house, silly!” This from Shelly, who skipped up to him and slipped her tiny hand into his. “Come on, Uncle My-my. There’s a cat!”

“Uncle My-my?” Lucky snickered.

“She’s six. Been calling me that since the first day I met her.”

“And a half!” Shelly tugged his hand. “Come see Emma.”

He had no choice but to follow, and there came that hearty laugh again as she hauled him around the registration desk and the foot of the stairs. The passage opened up into a dining area as floral and vintage as the sitting room had been, with a pass-through counter to the right. A purple-haired employee leaned over the counter, lips locked on those of the one person Myles still wasn’t sure he was prepared to face.

Ozzy stood on the customer side of the counter, elbows braced on the stone surface, completely preoccupied with the kiss.

“Highly professional,” Kreed deadpanned.

His employee squeaked and dropped to the floor, purple hair flopping over eyes with even more make-up than Jet habitually wore.

Almost, Myles turned to bolt, but Shelly’s grip kept him in place. Barely.

“Ozzy.” Lucky grabbed Myles’s free hand, like he’d read the aborted intention. “You busy?”

“I was.” Ozzy swung around to face them. “Oh. Micky.” His face went still, his gaze deep. Unreadable.

“Oh!” Purple Hair’s sharp exclamation caught Myles’s attention. “Micky? The Micky?”

“Myles,” Myles corrected automatically. “I go by Myles now.”

Ozzy nodded. “Sure.”

“How are you, Oz?”