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“We’ve not seen you around,” Drake added pointedly.
“Nope. My father kept everything separate because he understood I don’t do well in social situations. We spoke to each other on the phone daily, and Dad visited my apartment twice a week for dinner. We liked things private,” I repeated what I’d told Jett, feeling the need to explain, to not be judged.
“You anti-social?” Drake asked.
“No, but I’m shy and lack social niceties and subtleties. Dad understood I preferred it to be just us,” I explained again. Stop explaining! I owed Rage nothing!
Drake’s eyes narrowed in sympathy.
“Didn’t know Monty well. Decent fella from what I saw. He’ll be missed, Sinclair.”
“Wanna come back to the bar? Can introduce you to people,” Jett asked me.
I shook my head.
“No, I want to be alone with Dad,” I responded.
The Native American’s eyes now focused on me.
“No one should grieve alone, girl,” he said kindly. I didn’t know how to refuse the kindness. Luckily, Jett sensed my difficulties.
“Apache. Sin wants to be alone,” Jett stated firmly.
Apache looked at Jett and gave a curt nod.
“Leave you be,” Drake replied and tilted his head at Jett. Jett shifted me in his arms and then, with a heave, lifted himself and me out of the chair. He gently placed me on my feet and cupped my face.
“We’ll give you some time, Sin. If you need Rage, you can find us at the bar, clubhouse, or garage. Don’t hesitate. If you don’t see Drake, Apache, or me, ask anyone behind the bar or on the forecourt for one of us. We will come, I promise,” Jett said, tenderly looking into my eyes.
I offered Jett a nod, still clutching Dad’s cardigan, and the three men left the store. I scurried after them, locked the door, returned to the armchair, and began crying again.
???
Two days later, I sat in the shop’s darkness and away from the dingy window in a corner where no one could see me. I’d been going through the shop books that the accountant had dropped off. The accounts weren’t dire but not fantastic. Most of Dad’s money came from selling manuscripts and rare editions. The actual book transactions were down, which was to be expected in today’s era. Online reading replaced the paperback at such a fast rate it was scary. I sat back with a sigh. Long ago, I’d had an idea that would have upped sales and kept the bookshop well into the black, but Dad rejected it.
There were two options open to me. The first was to sell the stock and place the bookshop on the market. The rare books would make a small fortune at auction. The Reading Nook had no loan or mortgage, so I owned it outright. The other option was the one I’d floated to Dad when I returned from England. I’d have to force that to work. Yes, I had choices, but no idea what path to choose. I looked at Dad’s cardigan, which was folded on the table next to me.
Dad loved this store; he’d owned it for thirty years. He bought it with a small inheritance from my grandfather and then built a roaring business. Dad met Mom here, and I’d been born in this shop. Mother, being ornery, went into labour behind the counter.
The idea of selling the Reading Nook made me sick, but things had to change to make it more lucrative. Dad’s contacts for rare books were reliable, and I’d my own from England and the museum. I could keep up the unique book trade with ease. Although Dad and I had eschewed social contact, we were well known in our fields.
So yes, the rare book business could easily be kept going. The bookstore was a different matter. I frowned at a knock on the door, and I glanced up, and to my amazement, I saw Reid standing there. Flying over, I opened it and jumped into Reid’s embrace, which folded around me with familiar comfort. Reid tucked me close to his leanly muscled body.
“Oh God, I came as soon as I got your message,” Reid muttered, dropping his chin to the top of my head. My arms snaked around him, and I burrowed into his torso.
“Reid,” I whispered, tears falling.
“Christ. Why didn’t you tell me you were this bad?” Reid murmured, his hug tightening.
“It was too far; you were in England and your job…”
“Fuck the job. Museum fired me the minute I said I needed emergency leave.” Reid grunted.
“Oh no, Reid,” I exclaimed in horror. “I’m so sorry; you shouldn’t have come!”
“Of course I would; you’re all I have. Took a few days to pack my shit and have it shipped. Your phone’s been off, baby girl. How many times do I need to remind you to charge it?” Reid muttered.
I clung to him, tearful now for Dad and for him. Honestly, I was sick of crying. I’d never been one for waterworks. Dad’s death truly had rocked my foundation. Touched that Reid’s loyalty had no bounds, I couldn’t control the tears.
