Page 36 of My Return to the Walter Boys (My Life with the Walter Boys #2)

This was about so much more than learning to drive or having the freedom to go on a run; Nathan’s disorder would affect the rest of his life.

He probably felt like he was losing control, and that had to be terrifying.

Which made me wondered if all this—Nathan’s diagnosis and its aftermath—was the reason why he wasn’t playing music anymore.

When I asked him, he confessed he was struggling to find inspiration and that he needed time to get over what had happened.

That was a feeling I understood, so when he started crying again, I did too.

“Hey, Nathan?” I said once our tears dried. “I promise not to sign up for driver’s ed until you can.”

He cracked a smile. “Did you even have plans to get your license?”

“Nope,” I replied, “but now we can take the class together. It will be fun.”

This seemed to cheer Nathan up. Hoping to take his mind off things, I convinced him to come inside and watch a movie with me. As I was climbing out of the car, something silver caught my eye. I leaned over to get a better look and—

“Oh!” I gasped, scooping the familiar piece of jewelry off the floorboard.

“What’s that?” Nathan asked as I inspected it for damage.

“My mother’s necklace.” It was no wonder I’d lost it; the jump ring connecting the clasp to the chain had broken.

“It was missing, so I decided to check the car. I can’t believe it was actually here.

” Just as I was about to slip the necklace into the safety of my pocket, an idea came to me.

“Here,” I said, pressing it into the palm of Nathan’s hand.

“You…want me to have this?” A small furrow creased his brow “Why?”

“My mom had breast cancer when I was in grade school,” I told him. “Her chemo treatment was rough, so my dad wanted to give her something special to get her through it. The lavender symbolizes healing, and she eventually went into remission, so it must have worked. Maybe it will help you too.”

Nathan’s chest hitched.

Then, fingers trembling, he unclasped his own necklace, added the pendant to the chain, and let it fall into place against his guitar pick.

***

“Keys, keys. Where are my keys?”

Looking up from my cup of coffee, I spotted Katherine muttering to herself as she scoured the island, lifting Jordan’s diorama of the Amazon rainforest, followed by a baseball glove, a loaf of bread, and a pile of receipts.

There was a frenzied, desperate sort of energy about her, like she was running low on gas but had miles to cover before reaching her destination.

Over the course of the past week, she’d been working relentlessly in preparation for the rummage sale, which started in two days’ time.

Her job as one of the coordinators was to organize and price all the donations, but watching her flit around the kitchen gave me cause for concern.

When was the last time she took a break?

“Katherine?”

No response.

“Katherine,” I said again, louder this time, waving my hand to catch her attention.

“Not now, George,” she replied without looking up. She was laser focused on digging through the fruit bowl. “I don’t have time. My keys are missing.”

Orange juice splashed onto the table as Alex snorted into his glass.

Isaac, who was seated beside him eating a bowl of cereal, smirked and set down his spoon.

When he finished chewing, he folded his hands under his chin and gazed at me with a mischievous smile.

His eye was swollen shut, but I didn’t bother asking who gave him the shiner; considering how mean-spirited he’d been of late, any of his cousins were likely to be responsible.

“Hey, Uncle George,” he said to me. “You’re looking magnanimous this morning. Any chance you’ll consider lifting my grounding early? There’s a party tonight that I’d really love to go to.”

Katherine’s head snapped up, her lips pursing at the question, but the disapproval melted away when she realized that Isaac was not, in fact, talking to her husband. She blinked. “Jackie, was that you just now? I could have sworn I heard George…”

“Um, yeah,” I answered, my cheeks turning pink.

Alex and Isaac both cackled, and I had a feeling they wouldn’t let this go for days . I could already hear the endless stream of jokes about my gruff, manly voice; in all likelihood, they would think of enough content for their own stand-up routine.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she told me. “Do you need something?”

“No, it’s just—” I gestured to the lanyard around her neck. “You already have your keys.”

She looked down. “ Oh! You’re a lifesaver, Jackie. I swear, it’s always when I’m running late that I misplace them. I was supposed to be at the community center thirty minutes ago, and there’s so much to do before Monday.”

“If you need more help, I’d be happy to come with you,” I told her, crossing my fingers under the table.

Not only would the volunteer hours look good on my college applications, but I desperately wanted to get out of the house and go somewhere other than school after being on lockdown for two weeks.

She hesitated, so I quickly added, “I understand I’m grounded, and I’ll do my chores as soon as we get back, but I’m good at organization.

Maybe I can take some of the workload off your plate? ”

Those were the magic words.

“You know what? That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, giving me a decisive nod. “Thank you, Jackie. I appreciate the offer.”

“Kiss ass,” Isaac muttered in a low voice so only I would hear him.

Not low enough, however.

Katherine zeroed in on him with a scowl. “Isaac, why don’t you handle the horse stalls today while Jackie helps me with the rummage sale?”

He pointed at her with his spoon. “You’re funny, Auntie K, but hard pass.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” she said dismissively, then turned to Alex and asked him to load the boxes stacked on the dining room table into her van.

While her back was turned, I stuck my tongue out at Isaac. He flicked a Fruit Loop at me as he grumbled to himself but gave no further protest. He was in too much trouble for his usual shit.

Thirty minutes later, Katherine dropped me off at the front entrance so I wouldn’t get drenched.

The skies had opened up halfway through our drive, but neither of us were dressed for the weather.

As I huddled under the overhang, I watched her park as close as possible, then dash across the lot with a magazine held over her head.

After tossing the ruined Country Living in the trash and shaking off the rain, Katherine ushered me into the lobby.

She waved to a burly lumberjack type sitting behind the donations table, then started down a set of stairs that led to a cavernous event space where the rummage sale would be held.

“Whoa,” I said, grinding to a halt when we reached the bottom of the steps.

The room had been transformed into what looked like a supersize Goodwill with banquet tables pushed together to form makeshift rows.

Never in my life had I seen so much stuff , not even when Cole took me to the Rift.

Rows of furniture, racks upon racks of clothes, stacks of books, an infinite array of knickknacks.

Tupperware, toys, kitchen appliances, and decorative vases.

There was even an old pinball machine tucked into one of the corners.

“Impressive, right?” Katherine said, surveying the room with a satisfied gleam in her eye.

“Very,” I told her, which was true as long as you ignored how the place smelled like a cross between a cafeteria and a retirement home.

Katherine wasted no time putting me to work. “I have some paperwork that needs my immediate attention, but if you go talk to Gabby”—she pointed to a pretty redhead in a beige sweater—“she can give you something to do.”

First, I helped separate and fold clothes.

Boring but easy. Once that was done, I spent an hour putting price stickers on DVDs, then moved on to breaking down cardboard boxes.

I had just started sorting the sizeable collection of tableware—serving platters, plastic kids plates, fancy bone china, and mason jars galore—when I felt someone staring at me.

Despite his location on the opposite side of the room, my eyes immediately snapped to Cole, who was standing at the front of the room holding a storage bin.

The oatmeal I ate for breakfast turned to stone in my stomach.

His gaze was fixed on me as if he’d been waiting for me to notice him, and now that I had, he started in my direction.

I tried not to panic, but the two of us hadn’t spoken since our encounter in the barn, and I still didn’t know how to explain myself.

So far, Cole had respected my wishes and kept his distance, but it appeared his patience had run out.

Instead of watching his approach, I returned my attention to a stack of ceramic bowls, examining each one to make sure they were clean and undamaged.

One had a crack extending from the rim down to its base, so I set it aside.

I felt the exact moment he reached me, but I chose to finish my task rather than lift my head and meet his eyes.

Cole huffed, then carelessly deposited the bin he’d been carrying onto the table, making a set of wineglasses rattle together.

“Hey, Jackie.” Instead of giving me butterflies, his flirtatious drawl put me on edge. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I took a second to compose myself before facing him. “What’s in the box?” I asked in a toneless voice.

“More crap from the basement.” He patted the lid.

A few rows over, something glass shattered against the floor, and we both jerked our heads in the direction of the noise. The burly lumberjack type from the lobby was cursing a broken lamp at his feet.

“Cole,” I said after turning back to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was obvious.” He gestured to the bin. It was the clear, plastic kind, packed with what appeared to be baby clothes. “I’m delivering said crap.”