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Chapter 7
Jet
“So, then I told Madison she had to invite Taylor or Ashley wouldn’t come, but Madison was like, ‘If Ashley doesn’t come, then Brianna will think it’s too lame to come,’ and I was like, ‘I know, right,…that’s kind of like…the point,’ and she was like, ‘but Brianna won’t come if Taylor comes.’ You know. Because of that whole thing with Austin.”
There was a pause in Mila’s stream of chatter, which had been going on for the entire five-minute walk from their house to Main Street Eats. It was about time– Jet was impressed by how long she could go without taking a breath. He knew she wanted to be a singer. With a set of pipes like that, she was well on her way.
As the pause stretched, though, he glanced down at her. She was looking up at him expectantly.
Oh, shit. Was he supposed to make some sort of judgment about the whole thing?
As much as he’d been enjoying the sound of his little sister’s voice, he had to admit he hadn’t really been paying attention. It wasn’t that the soap-opera-meets-reality-show antics of the kids at Valentine Bay Middle School didn’t interest him. They didn’t, obviously, but that wasn’t the problem. It was that he legitimately couldn’t keep up with the speed of information flowing from Mila’s mouth.
He decided to just grab onto the last name he’d heard and hope for the best.
“Hmmm,” he said, doing his level best to sound like he’d considered the situation and took it seriously. “It really sounds like Austin is the main problem, then.”
Mila stopped in her tracks, just a few feet from the front door of the diner. Jet’s heart dropped down into his gut. Had he said exactly the wrong thing?
She spread her hands wide in front of her. “I know, right? Oh my God. Yes! Thank you! That is exactly what I keep trying to explain to Madison, and she just won’t get it!” Mila threw her arms around his waist and gave him a quick but powerful hug. “That’s why I’m so glad you’re here. You just understand things!”
Well, that definitely could’ve gone worse.
Jet smiled and ruffled her hair. “Come on, kid. Let’s go grab something to eat.”
When Mila had first asked him, about twenty minutes before, if he wanted to go to lunch, just the two of them, he’d hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to spend time with his sister. That was pretty much one of his favorite things to do. But he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to be seen in public yet.
He was supposed to be in seclusion. If the tabloids got wind of where he was, then soon there’d probably be reporters sniffing around. Even a photographer or two, hoping to strike it big by taking and then selling their first paparazzi-level pic.
He’d been right on the verge of saying no, suggesting they play a game or watch a movie instead, when he remembered one critical thing: they were in Valentine Bay. That changed everything.
It wasn’t that he labored under the delusion that every single citizen of his small hometown would be loyal enough to him to keep his secret. He wasn’t that naïve. Far from it.
It was just that, in a town the size of Valentine Bay, word would’ve already spread that he was here. A neighbor would’ve seen him on the front porch the night he came back. Or maybe someone would’ve been driving by at the exact same second he’d walked into Abby’s shop. Possibly, someone had seen the rental tags on the car that was now parked outside his childhood home and put two and two together.
No matter how it had come out, he was sure of one thing– every single citizen of Valentine Bay probably knew he was back by now. That was just the way it was.
So, there was no point in turning down time with Mila.
They stepped through the front door of the diner and a wave of nostalgia passed over Jet, one that was so strong it nearly knocked him off of his feet.
Damn, the place looked exactly the same way it had when he was a teenager. Smelled the same, too—a mouthwatering combination of coffee, French fries, and meat on the griddle.
His stomach growled, and both he and Mila laughed.
“Laughter, that’s what I love to hear! It’s music to my ears,” came a cheerful voice, and Jet turned to see Grace Dobrevski bustling out from behind the counter to greet them. God, that was another thing that hadn’t changed. Grace and Serge, her husband and short order cook at the diner, had been fixtures here since before he could remember.
His eyes welled up a little as she enfolded him in a bear hug.
He wasn’t a rock star to her. Or a legendary screw-up. Or a meal ticket. Or a photo op. Or…well, anything that he represented to all of the people he dealt with on a daily basis. He was just Jet Valentine, the kid who liked his burger medium rare and extra salt on his fries, and who she’d had to chastise more than once for idly doodling on the tabletop with his pencil.
And that felt damn good.
“Hi, Grace. God, it’s good to see you again,” Jet said.
Grace put a hand on her substantial hip. “Now, honey, I didn’t know you were in town. How long are you here for?”
Jet laughed. “Thanks for the courtesy of pretending, but you can drop the act.”
