Chapter 10
BOOKER
Saturday nights were always busy, but I couldn’t remember being this busy since the last day of June, when everyone had been trying to make the most of the last few hours of Pride Month.
That had been a weekday, so it was nothing compared to this.
When I’d told Miles it’d do me as much good as it’d do the library, I apparently hadn’t just been saying that.
At this rate, I’d be able to fund Ryder and Seth’s queer theatre group camp next year single-handed instead of having to run a fundraiser.
Not that the people of Otter Bay didn’t love a good fundraiser.
“Half of Otter Bay is putting the moves on your boyfriend,” Andre said in my ear while I was a third of the way through a six-drink order.
I glanced over to where Miles was installed on one of the couches, flanked by, I assumed, grateful new library patrons.
I tried to ignore the hand on his knee. People were allowed to flirt with him. He was allowed to enjoy it, and he obviously was.
“How many times—”
“Oh yeah, you’re just doing all this for the good of the community and not because the nerdy little librarian is cute. But for the record, he keeps looking over at you while you’re busy.”
Yeah, I thought, the way kids look to their dad when they’re swimming.
I was happy being Miles’s friend. I was glad he was making other friends, and starting to settle in. If someone swept him off his feet, he’d stay. We’d figure out a way to rescue the library. Seth would be happy. Keeping Seth happy was as important to me as anything else.
Andre clapped me on the shoulder and disappeared back into the kitchen, which was under just as much pressure as the bar right now.
I hoped Miles had eaten. I hadn’t been able to keep track of what was going where as much as I would’ve liked, but someone must have fed him by now, right?
Right. He was ridiculously popular, as he had every right to be.
In any case, I didn’t get a minute to myself for the rest of the night until I turned on Faith, like I did every night at closing, and started saying my goodbyes.
Normally, I waited until the last person had left before leaving the bar myself but I’d been desperate to pee for an hour.
I figured they all knew where the door was by now—and they were well-behaved even if they were drunk—so I slipped away for thirty seconds of blissful silence while Seth took charge of the stragglers.
Otter Bay was lucky to have him. Mark was even luckier. If I thought for a second my brother had ever forgotten that, he and I would have words.
Andre tapped me on the shoulder when I resurfaced, then pointed over at one of the couches. The couch Miles had been pinned down to earlier.
I squinted over at it, then saw what he was pointing at. A rising and falling lump, covered by someone’s—Ward’s, maybe—denim jacket. With a tuft of strawberry-blond hair sticking out above the collar.
“No one else wanted to wake him,” Andre whispered.
“I don’t wanna wake him either,” I whispered back. If he’d fallen asleep there, he must have been exhausted.
Andre shrugged. “Can’t leave him there.”
“No,” I agreed, still keeping my voice down. “No, I’ll… handle it. You get home.”
“You’re the boss,” Andre said with grin and a half-assed salute. “Night, Book.”
“Night.” I waved at him, already picking my way over to Miles.
For a night as crowded as it had been, people had been incredible about picking up their trash and returning their own glassware and crockery to the bar, so there really wasn’t much cleanup for tomorrow morning.
I’d already asked Andre to cover it for me since I had a prior engagement, but I got the feeling that had just fallen through.
The world’s cutest little grunt escaped from Miles when I put my hand on his shoulder. He made the saddest sound I’d ever heard as he wrinkled his nose and cracked his eyes open.
“Tired?” I asked, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. Just.
“Book?” Miles mumbled, blinking up at me.
My heart tumbled around in my chest like a kid rolling down a hill. I’d meant to take him home, but…
“Go back to sleep,” I said, even as I hauled him up into my arms. He was even lighter than he looked and while he might have been awkwardly long-limbed for someone else to lift, I had a solid four inches on him.
His head fell against my chest before I’d even straightened up. My heart stuttered, fluttering against my ribs like a moth caught in a net.
Dammit. I was too old for this.
“Are you carrying me?” he mumbled, half-asleep again.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
“I know.” Miles yawned, snuggling closer as I mounted the stairs. “You’re safe.”
“I am,” I promised, pausing a beat to appreciate the way he felt in my arms. Safe was more than enough to be for him. I didn’t ever want him to doubt that I was safe. “Always.”