Page 64 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“’I’m not too shabby, thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Er. No.”

“Are you looking for Tobias?”

He swallowed and pushed his spectacles back up his nose, his attention on everything else except me.

“Are you alright?”

Trevor’s expression swam with doubt. “Yes. I mean, no.” He didn’t seem himself. “Have you seen Tobias so far this morning?”

“Not yet, but he should be in at any moment… Trevor?”

“I should really talk to him,” he rushed. “It’s very important.”

I studied him. “Trevor. Are you alright? Can I help?”

But he was already making for the shop door.

Chapter Nineteen

Iwatched Trevor hurry from the shop, without so much as a backward glance.

I frowned.

He wasn’t himself.

What was that about?

Moments later, Tobias barrelled into Book Ends.

My stomach tied itself in knots. “Hi there. How are you?”

Tobias didn’t reply. He carried the air of someone who wasn’t quite sure where they were or why. His expression was grim. “Have you seen my uncle?”

“Yeah. He was here a few minutes ago, looking for you.” I took in his stormy expression, black brows tightly knitted together. “Tobias, is everything alright?”

He didn’t answer. He stared back at me, as though he was struggling to understand the question.

“Tobias. What’s going on? Are you ok?”

He fiddled with the leather strap of his watch. He dropped his head. “Did my uncle say anything to you?”

“About what?”

He hesitated. An undecipherable edge fired through his eyes. “About me.”

“No. He said he wanted to talk to you though.”

I set down the pile of romantic sagas I was clutching on top of the counter. “Tobias? What is it? Trevor’s behaviour did seem rather odd.”

Tobias forced a troubled hand through his curls. “Family matters.”

I shot him a concerned look. He still stood there. “Look. Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “But if you did, I promise you that it wouldn’t leave this shop. You can trust me.”

Tobias’s chest heaved under his fitted, butter-coloured shirt.

“You listened to me moaning on about my dad and Literati, so if I can return the favour, you only have to ask.”