Page 33 of Rescue

To my surprise, Jon doesn’t look remotely annoyed. If anything, he seems to find Nancy’s antics amusing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says dryly, his tone making it clear he’s playing along but not giving much away.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him, studying him like he’s a particularly tricky puzzle. “You’re awfully calm under interrogation,” she remarks. “Most people squirm.”

“I’ve had worse,” Jon replies, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back a grin. “This is nothing.”

“Is that so?” Nancy arches a brow, clearly intrigued. “Well, in that case, what’s the most unexpected thing about being here? Don’t tell me it’s the food.”

Jon glances at me then, just for a moment, before answering. “The people,” he says simply.

Nancy pauses, caught off guard for once, and I seize the moment to tug her toward the honey stall Layla’s been ogling. “Come on, Nancy,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Let’s get that honey you love so much.”

As she lets herself be dragged away, Nancy throws one last glance over her shoulder at Jon. “You’re full of surprises, Doctor Jon. I like it.”

Jon’s quiet chuckle follows us, and I can’t help glancing back at him myself, catching the way his gaze lingers on me for just a second longer than necessary.

Something in my chest tightens—but I push it aside, focusing instead on Layla’s delighted squeal as she samples a spoonful of honey.

Nancy might have been teasing, but for the first time in a long time, I wonder if there’s a part of me that doesn’t mind the idea of him sticking around.

Chapter 12

Abigail

The cheerful clatter ofplates and low hum of conversation fill the dining room as I move between tables, topping off coffee cups and serving full English breakfasts. My guests are a lively bunch this morning, all chatting animatedly about their plans for the day.

Through the open doorway, I catch a glimpse of Layla sitting at the kitchen table with Jon. She’s kneeling on the chair, her bowl of cereal almost forgotten as she peppers him with questions. The sight of her animated face and Jon’s attempts to keep up with her makes me smile despite the ache in my chest.

“Is it busy in London?” Layla’s voice carries into the dining room, loud enough that I can’t help but eavesdrop. “Mummy says it’s noisy and full of cars.”

“It is,” Jon replies, his voice steady. “Very busy, very noisy.”

“Do you like it?” she presses, leaning forward eagerly.

Jon pauses, and I glance up just in time to see him tilt his head, considering his answer. “Sometimes. It can beexciting, but it’s not always the best place for peace and quiet.”

Layla nods solemnly, as if she understands the weight of city living. “Where do you live? Do you have a big house?”

“I live in a flat,” Jon says, taking a sip of tea. “It’s not very big, but it’s enough for me.”

“Do you live alone?” Layla asks, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.

“I do,” Jon replies, his tone even. “Just me.”

Layla sits back, twirling her spoon in her cereal bowl. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

I wince, almost dropping a plate as I watch Jon’s expression shift. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, exactly.

“Sometimes,” he admits softly. “But I stay busy, so it’s not too bad.”

Layla seems to mull this over for a moment before her face lights up. “Maybe we can visit you!”

Even from where I’m standing, I can sense Jon’s hesitation. He looks at her for a moment, his gaze steady but cautious, as though weighing every word before he speaks.

“Visiting London can be a lot of fun,” he says eventually, sidestepping the question but not dismissing it entirely. “There’s so much to see and do there.”

Layla beams at the thought, oblivious to the careful nuance of his reply. I force myself to turn back to my guests, but my mind stays in the kitchen, caught between the sweetness of Layla’s curiosity and the uncertainty of what Jon’s departure might mean for her—or for me.

I stand bythe front door of Sunshine Cottage, clutching Layla’s school bag as the small white bus rumbles up the gravel path.

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