Page 48 of Small Town Sizzle

I glance over to the corner where a half-finished mural stretches across the wall, vibrant colors depicting kids playing basketball, reading, and laughing. It’s Leti’s work, and it’s coming together beautifully.

“Hey, Garrett, you gonna stand there all day, or you gonna help me with this trim?” Ethan’s voice pulls me back to reality.

He’s leaning against the doorway, smirking as he points at a pile of molding waiting to be installed.

I chuckle. “On it, bro.”

“You good?” he asks.

“Better than good. Why?”

“You seem a little distracted, that’s all.”

“I guess I am. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s not a complete lie. I could smell Maya on me all night; it was like my body was craving her presence.

“Everything good?”

“I would tell you if it wasn’t.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he chuckles as we go back to the trim, working silently together.

It’s mid-afternoon when the front door swings open, and the familiar chatter of kids fills the space. Jazlyn and Leti walk in, bringing their usual burst of energy.

Jazlyn heads straight for the snack table, grabbing a bag of chips and a soda before flopping onto the oversized couch like she owns the place. George whines before plopping down on the floor at her feet.

Leti, carrying her art supplies, shakes her head at Jazlyn. “You know, one day, you’re gonna turn into a potato chip, Jaz.”

She doesn’t miss a beat, popping a chip into her mouth. “Better a chip than a broccoli stalk. No offense, but your snacks are weird.”

Leti rolls her eyes, setting her supplies down on a nearby table. “It’s called healthy eating. You should try it sometime. Don’t get stuffed with junk; your mom is scary when she yells at me for it.”

“Hard pass,” Jaz says with a grin. “I’ll tell her you said she was scary.”

“That was between us,” Leti laughs.

I’m working on patching up a section of drywall nearby and can’t help but laugh at their banter. Jaz catches my eye and raises a brow.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Garrett?” she asks, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms.

“Just you two. You remind me of me and my brother when we were your age,” I say, setting down my tools.

Jaz snorts. “I bet Mr. Ethan was the broccoli-eater.”

I grin. “You’d win that bet.”

She triumphantly smirks, pulls out her homework, and starts scribbling away. George sits perched nearby like a silent cheerleader.

“So, how’s school?” I ask, wiping my hands on a rag and sitting down on a nearby chair.

“It’s school,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “You know, boring, full of teachers telling me what to do.”

“Sounds rough,” I say, feigning sympathy.

“Totally,” she replies with a grin, then adds more seriously, “It’s okay, though. I like math. English, not so much.”

“Math, huh? You must be pretty smart.”

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