Page 9 of Rescue

I hear a voice in the background—Dad, probably—and Mum says something muffled in response before returning to me. “I’ll let you go, darling. You take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“I will,” I promise. “Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will. Love you, Jon.”

“Love you too, Mum.”

I hang up and set the phone on the nightstand. The idea of switching it off for three weeks makes my stomach tighten, but I know it’s necessary. No texts, no emails, no notifications. Just... nothing.

I pick up the phone again, my thumb hovering over the power button. Maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow. Just one more day of being reachable.

But no. If I don’t start now, I’ll never do it. With a deep breath, I press and hold the button until the screen goes dark.

The room feels quieter now, birds singing outside the window the only sound. I sit there for a moment, staring out the window at the rolling hills in the distance.

It’s peaceful, just as I told Mum. But peaceful has never been my strong suit.

The stairs creak softly beneath my feet as I make my way down, the scent of something sweet wafting through the air. Chocolate, maybe? The house feels alive with the kind of warmth you only find in places like this. Sunshine Cottage. It’s almost laughable how fitting the name is.

The murmur of voices grows louder as I approach the kitchen. One is bright and melodic, filled with laughter, and the other deeper, playful but sharp-edged. I stop just short of the doorway, hesitating for reasons I can’t entirely explain. Maybe it’s the way this all feels—too homey, too different from the quiet sterility I’ve wrapped myself in back in London.

But I can’t stand here forever. I step into the doorway, clearing my throat lightly. Three faces turn towards me, all mid-conversation.

“Oh!” Abigail straightens up from where she’s been leaning over the counter, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “Mr Peterson! I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Settling in alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” I reply, nodding. “And please call me Jon.”

Her smile is as warm as it was earlier, it radiates like sunshine. “Let me introduce you. This is my sister, Nancy,” she says, motioning to a woman seated at the kitchen table. Nancy swivels in her chair to face me, her eyes alight with mischief as she flashes a wide grin.

“And this cheeky one here,” Abigail continues, brushing a gentle hand over the head of a little girl perched on a chair, “is my daughter, Layla.”

Layla beams up at me, her legs swinging beneath the table. “Hi!” she chirps and gives me a little wave.

“Hello,” I say, offering a small nod, unsure of what else to do with her wide-eyed enthusiasm. She looks so much like her mother—the same warm brown eyes, same dimples when she smiles.

Nancy leans back in her chair, looking me over with a curious gaze that borders on playful. “So, you’re Jon Peterson,” she says, drawing out my name as if testing how it sounds on her tongue. “The mysterious long-term guest.”

“I’m not sure about mysterious,” I reply, shifting slightly under her scrutiny.

“Well, you’re not what I pictured,” she adds, her grin widening as her eyes sweep over me. “Bit of a surprise, isn’t he, Abby?”

Abigail huffs, her cheeks tinged pink. “Nancy,” she warns lightly, but there’s no real bite to her tone. “Ignore her, Jon. She likes to tease—it’s her favourite hobby.”

“Is it?” I ask, the corner of my mouth twitching upwards despite myself.

“Oh, absolutely,” Nancy says, clearly unfazed. “But you’ve got this... what’s the word... ‘buttoned-up’ vibe about you. Not exactly the rugged rambler type we usually see around here.”

“I’m not here to ramble,” I reply dryly, and Nancy bursts into a laugh.

“Well, at least you’ve got a sense of humour,” she says, winking at Abigail. “That’s always a plus.”

“Mummy makes the best muffins!” Layla declares suddenly, her tiny voice cutting through the chatter with authority.

Abigail smiles down at her daughter, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Well, aren’t you my biggest fan,” she says with mock seriousness.

Layla giggles. “I ate two already, but Aunt Nancy said I could have another one if I promised not to tell.”

“Layla!” Abigail gasps, her tone full of scolding as she turns to Nancy. “Encouraging secrets? Honestly!”

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