I shove it open and step onto the sidewalk. I did it. It might have been awkward and messed up, and I wasn’t like a James Bond–level superspy or anything, but I went, and I did it, and I’m going to go back. And that feels like a win. It feels good.

And then my phone buzzes in my pocket, and it’s Peak checking in, wishing me good luck with whatever it is that I have to do today. And my heart sinks to the concrete, because every win comes with a loss for me. Everything good is also bad. Plus one with my dad means minus one with Peak.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jubilee

HE’S BEEN IN the store for nearly five minutes, and other than getting startled by the bells—which Vera says he does every time—and then looking to see if I noticed, which I did, he hasn’t acknowledged me at all. Well, technically, he did that ridiculous grunt-slash-nod combo thing boys do when I said hello. Hardly counts.

Vera mentioned he’d be in soon to get his holds, but it’s weird he came in today, since the new books aren’t out until tomorrow. I guess he’s just into perpetually being a week behind or something—but I’m trying not to judge. She said to keep an eye out for the mop-headed guy in a hoodie, that he looked about my age and seemed like he needed a friend. Then she gave me a look, like it’s my job to welcome him to the fold or something. No, thanks, I have enough on my plate.

Speaking of enough on my plate, I glance at my phone—and nothing. Well, there are a few texts from Jayla and Nikki, plus the two violinists from my quartet blowing up our group chat over which performance of the Haydn Quartets is the best and the violist trying to get them to chill, but . . . none from Bats, which is weird. Normally we talk nonstop when I’m at the shop. It’s practically what gets me through the shift. This afternoon—silence. Granted, normally I don’t work on Tuesdays—Mrs. G had to reschedule our usual lesson because she has the flu—but still.