Page 49 of Castaway Whirlwind
“You sure?” Pete asks.
I don’t have an answer for them, so I tip my invisible hat before moving toward my usual table, the only one available in the packed restaurant. The raucous noise cuts in half when I set the car seat on the tabletop.
Faye approaches with a sad smile, bending to shift Gauge’s baby blanket from the hospital lower to see his tiny face. “He looks just like Layla.”
I nod. It makes it all the more heartbreaking. A mug shatters on the floor behind Faye, waking Gauge, and the customer who dropped it rushes to apologize. I hum to Gauge as I unclip his belt and carefully lift him from his seat, holding him in the crook of my arm while I wait for Layla to return.
Her brows twitch when she forces a smile and drops off my egg omelet, fruit, and coffee. Though we don’t exchange more than a few words throughout her shift, watching the clock impatiently until I can get my woman alone again, I catch her eyeing us every few minutes. Everyone is generally courteous with Layla and the other staff—if they weren’t, they’d be thrown out on their butts and banned from Granny’s—yet today, they’re all extra nice despite Layla’s absent bubbly customer service personality.
“There you are,” Sheriff says when he comes into the diner with Deputy Cooke, removing his cowboy hat and walking toward me. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Mind if we sit?” He motions to the empty chairs, pulling Cooke’s out for her before they settle in.
“Must’ve left it at Layla’s apartment.” I really am crap at remembering to keep it on me.
He waves to Layla, who goes to the counter to collect two more mugs and a pot of coffee. “Are you staying with her now?”
“Yes, sir.” And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Cooke accepts her steaming mug with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
“I take it you have news if you were looking for me. What’s up?” I ask, curling my arm around Layla’s back when she leans against me, smoothing her hand over her nephew’s head.
“We caught the guy who vandalized your house and Layla’s windshield,” Sheriff says. “Allen was partially right.”
“Joel?” Where I am, houses are spread out, and neighbors generally keep to themselves. Other than Elliott, the one neighbor I know well is Joel, seeing as how he’s been working off and on for me since the start of BT and lives within afew miles of us.
“His twin boys, Jake and Jack. Sixteen years old. Got a full confession out of them, too. Says one dared the other to do it when they were bored and didn’t think they’d get caught. Promised it had nothing to do with their pops or Steven.”
I click my tongue as I think it over. “That’s hard to believe. The boot through the windshield seemed personal.”
Sheriff shakes his head. “It’s not the first time I’ve had the boys at the station. Seen plenty of Joel back when he was a teenager before he straightened out. Like father, like sons.”
“What about the tires at BT? Are they responsible for that, too?” Layla asks, eagerly taking Gauge when he squirms in my arms. She’s wearing the first genuine smile of the afternoon when she holds him upright to nuzzle his cheek and rocks her hips side to side.
Sheriff leans back with his own warm smile, though it’s bad news he delivers. “The boys swear up and down they didn’t do it, but we’re still looking into it and a few more angles.” He nods at Gauge. “Heard your brother was in town. Glad to know you’ve got family around while we sort out this mess.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how fast news spreads here,” Layla says, sliding her doe eyes my way. Compared to the big cities in Texas, her hometown is a speck on the map, but it’s easily three times the size of ours, if not larger. Not everyone knows each other where she’s from, as they do here—whether we like it or not.
Sheriff wags his thumb in my direction when he answers. “Oh yeah. Half the town is wondering if Russell has already popped the question.”
Layla goes still, laughing nervously. “Careful, or you’re going to scare himoff, Sheriff.”
“I’m not scared.” I pull her closer, sliding my hand up her spine. “Are you?” I try not to let my old heart shrivel up and die when she doesn’t answer.
Cooke sniffs like she’s smelled something rotten from my periphery, which pricks an awareness at the back of my mind. I stare hard at her until she catches my eye, her expression neutralizing on a dime.
Changing the subject, now that the serious business is out of the way, Sheriff asks, “How old is Paul now?”
“About to turn twenty-two and graduate at the top of his class,” I say with overwhelming pride, wincing mentally at the fact that my son is only three years and a bit younger than Layla. “He’s thinking of moving to Florida for graduate school afterward. Chemical Engineering. Might even pursue his PhD.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a smart boy on your hands. Wonder how that happened?” Gibson jokes.
“Like father, like son,” I joke right back.
I should have expected his next question. Braced for it. Steered the conversation away before he could ask it. But I’m caught unaware, distracted by Layla’s tense body language when Sheriff asks, “Is he seeing anyone? Any grandbabies in the near future?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my tables,” Layla says quietly, kissing her nephew on his forehead before handing him to me, taking my bruised heart with her when she walks away.
Chapter 16
