Toby grinned. “Yes and no. I grew up here but took off when I was eighteen. Harrison and I relocated here last year.”

“Couldn’t stay away?” Micah asked.

“Something like that.”

“I get the appeal.” Micah chuckled. “It’s quirky.” He turned to Reggie. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

“Are you kidding? We had a private concert. It was fantastic.”

“Anytime.”

He waved and left. Reggie watched him go, wishing she could have figured out a way to ask him about Dena. She had a good idea of her sister’s feelings, but was less certain if Micah’s heart was headed in the same direction. He seemed perfectly normal—if she didn’t know about his late wife, she would have no idea he was still in mourning. So was he mostly healed and ready to give love another try, or was he, as Dena believed, happy having experienced his one true love and not interested in anyone else?

“Not going to get an answer to that question anytime soon,” she murmured.

Toby looked at her, but before he could ask what she was talking about, Harrison held up a bag of yarn.

“We didn’t put this away,” he said. “I’ll go put it in the right tote.”

“Thanks, Harrison,” Reggie said, walking around the room to check for any other supplies left behind.

Toby began pushing in chairs. When Harrison was out of earshot, he looked at her, his gaze heated. “So, about last night.”

She smiled. “Yes. Last night. It was very—”

A desperate scream came from the back of the building. Before Reggie could figure out what was happening, Toby was running in that direction. The screams continued, getting more frantic with every second. Reggie raced after him, quickly realizing the horrific sound was coming from the storage closet.

“He’s trapped inside,” she said, aware Toby had already figured that out.

He pulled on the door, jerking it several times until it finally burst open. Harrison ran out, flinging himself at his father. He was pale, and tears poured down his cheeks. Even from several feet away, Reggie could see he was shaking.

“I’ve got you,” Toby told him, cradling him close. “I’ve got you, Harrison. I’m right here. I’m here. Breathe, son. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

She hovered, not sure what to do. Toby turned his head.

“Would you get our jackets?”

She nodded and hurried down the hallway. After collecting coats, scarves and gloves, she returned to the hallway. Harrison was still crying, but with less intensity. He reluctantly released his father long enough to put on his coat. Toby helped him with his gloves, then shrugged into his own gear before picking up his son and carrying him out of the building.