Page 42 of Serenity Harbor

Thathe could understand completely. He had spent his whole life feeling like he needed to prove something, the brainiac runt in the secondhand clothes and the shaggy hair he had to cut himself, when he bothered.

In each new school, he had to prove he could handle the work—a challenge magnified a thousand times after he conned his way into MIT.

About a month after he started school, he had almost been thrown out after the burden of his guilt had become too great and he confessed the truth to the department head of the computer program. He might have been ousted, if the dean of the department had been a stuffy ass.

Instead, Monte Lewis had been flabbergasted to learn Bowie had been able to pull off a monumental hack that could fool the entire admissions department. He had insisted on a demonstration—yet another time when Bowie had to prove himself.

When Bowie confessed the reason for the deception, that he had earned his GED a few months before because he moved around with his mother too much to attend high school, Dean Lewis had taken him under his considerable wing and cleared his way to stay in college.

He had met Ben and Aidan there. While Aidan’s ideas had started Caine Tech, Bowie had been there from the beginning. He hadn’t even been old enough to vote when he helped Aidan perfect the software that had been the cornerstone of the business.

How successful did a guy have to be before he lost the feeling that he had to face the world with his chin out and his fists raised?

“This room should work fine,” Katrina said, distracting him from the rhetorical question.

“Good,” he said. “I need to take off. Milo, I’ll see you later, okay?”

His brother ignored him, apparently still holding a grudge over the cereal thing.

Bowie swallowed his sigh. “Thank you. If you have any questions or problems, you know where to find me.”

“We’re going to have a great day. Don’t spare us a thought.”

Given that he hadn’t been able tostopthinking about her since the night before—even in his dreams—he didn’t hold out much hope for that.

* * *

“YOUWANTMEto read to you from the book about the true story of the Big Bad Wolf, is that right?”

Milo nodded vigorously, holding up the funny book that made him smile no matter how many times she read it to him.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him on the bed and read the story, since it was one of her own favorites, but she wasn’t a second-grade teacher for nothing. When necessary, she had become pretty good at channeling her inner hard-ass.

“I would be happy to read. You know I love that story, too. But I need you to do something for me first.”

The noise he made sounded remarkably like a wordless question, complete with the raised inflection at the end.

“We need to practice what the speech therapist told us today. I need you to practice theBsound.Bfor book. Can you do it?”

He shook his head vigorously, and she sighed. She had been trying all afternoon since their appointment, with various other incentives but roughly the same result. “Well,” she said, her voice shaded with regret, “I guess you can look at the pictures by yourself. Maybe you can find the letterBI showed you.Bigandbadboth start with the letterB.”

He thrust the book at her stubbornly, and just as stubbornly, she shook her head. “Sorry, kiddo. I’ll read to you when you practice what you learned today from the speech therapist. Book.B.Buh. Remember that boat ride we were talking about?Boatalso starts withB.”

Milo’s eyebrows lowered with his frustration, but he must have sensed she was serious. He looked at the book, then back at her, and finally repeated the sound. “Buh. Buh. Ba-oo.”

She figured it was as close as he could come, since theKsound at the end of the word was tough.

Delighted, she couldn’t resist pulling him into a hug that she knew he merely tolerated. “Milo, that’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you. You saidbook! Great job! Wait until Bowie hears you. That’s anotherBword.Brother. Bowie. Bo.”

“Bu-o.”

Oh, she hoped he would be able to replicate the sound the next morning when he saw Bowie again at breakfast. Milo could learn to use words to communicate. She knew it. Yes, he was six years old and had a long way to go, but she wanted to believe the boy was on the verge of a big speech breakthrough.

“You earned the story for sure. Maybe I’ll even read it twice!”

He offered the small half smile that indicated he was pleased and then settled into his bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. She sat beside him and started to read. By the time she finished the last page, his eyelids drooped and he struggled to keep them open.

“There you go. Sleep well, little bug. That’s anotherBword. Buh-ug.”

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