Page 26 of Run to Me

She leans in, keeping her voice low so only I can hear. “That sign’s terrible. Who approved it?”

“No telling. I thought we had a zoning board to vote on signage.”

“My money’s on the drunk idiot. That’s why we need you, Jensen. Save us all and put your name on the ballot.”

Need.

My pulse races, battling against the pressure to answer the town’s plea for help. “I still have time to decide.”

“Don’t take too long. We’re counting on you,” she says. “Oh, that reminds me. Have you signed up as a vendor for the May festival?”

“I haven’t yet, but I will.”

At every festival, I set up a beer cart on the street and prop the bar doors open, allowing people to wander in and out while we host trivia contests, karaoke, and other entertainment.

“Can you manage the raffle box this year?” she asks. “We’ll set up a table next to your cart, and you can put your sign-up sheet for karaoke on the table too.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

She gives my arm a friendly squeeze. “Fantastic. See you later, honey.”

“See ya.” I join Menchy, who’s gathering the tools he let us borrow. “I’ll help you carry everything back to your store.”

He grunts. “Much appreciated.”

“Yoo-hoo!” a shrill voice sings.

“Christ,” Menchy whispers, busying himself with the tools, his movements hurried.

Evelyn Truman saunters our way with her ancient miniature poodle tucked under an arm. The dog’s shaking like a leaf. “Hello, Menchy,” she purrs.

Ms. Truman, once widowed and twice divorced, flirts with every eligible bachelor in town, cycling through them with the seasons. She targeted me last summer, and I barely escaped with my life. Her overpowering perfume almost suffocated me whenever she shoved her cleavage in my face. Her target for the winter is Menchy, much to his dismay.

“Evelyn.” He dismisses her with a curt nod and says to me, “Grab that end of the ladder.”

We set about our task, leaving Evelyn and Tom behind to admire his muffin. Once Menchy and I put everything away in his hardware store, I step outside. The business owners have all retreated to their shops, and Evelyn’s gone.

Jake and Tatum stroll down the sidewalk with their arms linked and their heads close together. Aside from his lean build and darker shade of green eyes, Jake’s a replica of me with shorter hair and no beard, though his jaw usually has stubble because he can’t be bothered to shave every day.

They were high school sweethearts, but their relationship ended ten years ago after she moved to California and ghosted him. While I’m happy they’re working things out, I’m also worried. Jake moves fast and has no brakes where Tatum’s concerned, and she wrecked him once already. Unbeknownst to him, I know the reason she ended things without warning. My involvement in their breakup is an unfinished piece of business and a betrayal that haunts me to this day. When—not if—Jake finds out, I could lose my brother’s love and respect.

“Where are you two headed?” I ask, trying to appear nonchalant.

This is the first time I’ve faced them together since Tatum returned to Walford, and her anxiousness is feeding mine. She toys with the long braid draped over her should, a subconscious habit revealing her discomfort.

“Coffee shop,” Jake says.

The way he reverently mentions coffee in his raspy voice brings a smile to my face. He’s been a coffee drinker since he was thirteen, an addiction he shared with our dad. Knowing Jake, he’s already downed a thermos and two mugs of it today. I have no idea how he stands still after consuming large quantities of caffeine.

“How are things going with you?” I ask Tatum.

“Good. I’m finally settling in here.” She forces a smile, which Jake notices, drawing her to his side with an arm around her shoulders.

Tatum’s going through a rough time with her music career hanging in the balance. It must be stressful being a famous pop star who’s hiding in a small town after a public meltdown. On top of that, she’s keeping a devastating secret from Jake. That’s a lot for one person to handle.

Because I have my own secrets and can’t help myself, I ask, “And Maisy? Is she coming to see you soon?”

Sorrow washes over Tatum’s face, and I curse myself for causing her mood shift. “I hope so. She said she’s coming to my show next weekend, but we’ll see. I miss her.”