Whitman glanced toward the front doors again. Still no Caitlyn. It wasn’t like her to be late. He wanted to call and make sure she was okay, but at the moment, Whitman had his hands full corralling Deputy Andrews, Scout, the K-9 officer, and a room full of children.

Today’s children’s program activity was courtesy of the Copper County police. Deputy Andrews was a resident of Slat Creek, and since the town didn’t have a police force of its own, he was assigned to the town, though he reported to the county sheriff’s office. He had been on the force for five years, according to the introduction Whitman had prepared, and was a beloved staple of Slat Creek.

Whitman wasn’t so sure about that beloved part. So far, he had mostly gotten grunts and nods from the man. He hoped he would liven up in front of the children, or he might have a revolt on his hands.

“I found this book, Roscoe the K-9 Cop, for storytime,” Whitman said as he ushered Deputy Andrews to the area where his demonstration and talk would take place. “The kids would love it if you read it to them.”

“Sure,” Deputy Andrews said, grunting and nodding, all at the same time. Whitman crossed his fingers and watched as the man unzipped his large duffel and began to remove clothing, handcuffs, and some other items that Whitman wasn’t so sure about. The stack of coloring books at the end, however, he got, and he helped spread them out in a nice fan at the end of the metal folding table.

At least everything else seemed to be going well. The town council had admitted that his evening events were a surprise success and granted him permission to continue for the rest of the summer. The tribe had even decided to donate advertising in the local paper and pizzas for trivia night, although Whitman guessed that might have been for Scott’s benefit, since his team had won two of the last three trivia nights.

Deputy Andrews may have barely said two words to Whitman, but his voice was gentle and kind and held the kids’ attention like it was made of cotton candy. When it became apparent that the ox of a man needed no assistance with children, Whitman slipped back to the front desk to call Caitlyn. It went straight to voicemail.

“I could use some help passing around the handcuffs.” Deputy Andrews voice carried over the children to the front desk. Whitman still had the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder and gestured for one minute. The deputy smoothly selected a young girl from the back to assist him, as if he hadn’t even planned on Whitman helping. He might have been a gruff man, but he obviously had extensive training with children. Or he was just a natural.

Whitman searched online for the number to Molly’s, and a woman answered on the second ring.

“Yes, I was wondering if I could speak with Travis?”

“May I ask who’s calling?” The voice sounded more curious than polite, but Whitman answered anyway, and she excused herself to go find Travis.

“Whitman, is Caitlyn okay?”

Whitman wondered if Travis existed every moment in this tense state of almost-panic. From what he’d observed so far, probably so. He had hoped to bring some relief to him, but it obviously hadn’t been enough. Neither had he been successful, if Caitlyn was skipping work and not telling her brother.

“She isn’t –” Whitman glanced out the window just as Caitlyn crossed the street toward the building. “… hungry. But I’m starving and was hoping for some lunch from Molly’s. Could I talk you into a delivery?”

“Well, since it is a service we offer, you don’t have to do much convincing,” Travis laughed and Whitman’s stomach lurched.

“Great. Then I’ll take a chicken salad sandwich and broccoli cheese soup.”

“Would you like any dessert with that?”

“Surprise me.”

Whitman hung up the phone with Travis still laughing in the background.

“Where have you been?” He hissed as soon as Caity was within earshot. A few kids turned around and Whitman pulled her closer.

“Sorry. Rough night. I missed my alarm.”

Whitman could admit she did look rough. “That isn’t like you. What’s up?”

Caitlyn sighed. “Did you tell Travis?”

“Almost. I was worried, and I couldn’t exactly leave and go look for you.” He motioned to the group of kids sitting a few yards away and the deputy who seemed like he was able to monitor their conversation and entertain the kids without breaking a sweat. “I was on the phone with him when you got here. I passed it off as calling for food and not because I was in a total panic.”

“Did you get me anything?”

“No, I told him you weren’t hungry. Now tell me what happened or I will tell Travis about you getting here two hours late.”

Caitlyn grabbed the cart and stacked it high with books.

“I found out who my dad is,” she said, huffing as she lifted and lowered stack after stack. “While you and Travis were cleaning out the house, he found a clue. So now, not only do I know who my dad is, but I also know that he wanted nothing to do with me. It was a great way to end the day yesterday, so sorry if I’m feeling a little shitty today.”

Deputy Andrews glared in their direction, and Whitman winced while Caitlyn stormed off. She was still in the back, shelving books, when her brother arrived with Whitman’s lunch.

“Gavin,” Travis said to the deputy, who was letting the few remaining kids pet Scout before he packed up and left. “Had I known you’d be here, I would have brought your sandwich with me. It’s waiting for you on your desk.”

“Thanks,” the deputy said, dropping Scout’s leash to zip up his bag and sling it over his shoulder. “How’s Caitlyn?”

Travis sighed and set Whitman’s lunch on the counter. “She’s been doing better. But I had to give her some bad news last night, and I’m afraid she didn’t take it well.”

“We heard,” Whitman said.

“Loudly,” Deputy Andrews added.

“Fu- dgesicles,” Travis wiped a hand down his face as the final two kids finished petting Scout and piled their books onto the counter to check out. “I shouldn’t have told her. But she deserved to know. I don’t know, it’s all so messed up.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Deputy Andrews said with a frown, then collected Scout’s leash and left the library. Whitman had to admit that the man filled out his uniform, but Travis must have really been upset because his eyes didn’t track the cop one bit. They stayed on Whitman the whole time, and he absorbed the feeling of them into his being like footprints in wet sand.

“Thanks for looking out for her. It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course. She’s upset, but you did the right thing. She had a right to know, and she has you to help her get through it.”

Travis sighed and Whitman dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing over a ten. “She’s had to get through too much lately.”

Whitman couldn’t disagree, but Caitlyn returned with an empty cart before he could say anything else.

“Are you coming to trivia tonight, Trav?” Caitlyn asked as if her entire morning hadn’t gone completely off the rails.

“Uh, well –”

“You guys can take a break if you need. Get some rest. Have some sibling time,” Whitman said, trying to give Travis an out.

“But there’s no better sibling time than kicking your brother’s ass in trivia. I think I’m going to ask Scott if I can join his team tonight,” Caitlyn said, her eyes still sad but her chest puffed with forced confidence. Damn, Whitman admired the strength of that girl.

“You’re going to leave me alone? A team of one?” Whitman couldn’t hold back. If Caitlyn needed a goofy sibling rivalry, then Whitman would do his best to help.

“I guess Travis has to come. It would hardly be fair otherwise.”

Travis shook his head but shifted his gaze from Caitlyn to Whitman. “You heard her. We’ll be there. I can hardly renege on my promise after you threw me a yard sale.”

Whitman opened his mouth to argue, but Travis spun on his heels. “Gotta get back to work. See you tonight.”

Caitlyn’s self-satisfied smirk only lasted a minute before the last twenty-four hours or so caught up with her again and her lips dropped to a resigned frown.

Whitman worked her hard for the rest of the day to keep her mind occupied. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least do that.

Caitlyn’s mood improved over the course of the week. She still had moments of relapse, where Travis could tell she was putting on a brave front that was about as thin as a spider’s web. But she was also working through it. She had even gone on a hike with him on Thursday afternoon, although Mr. Wigglesworth was probably the motivating factor there.

He took the trail more slowly than he normally would, and she was sweating and sore by the end. He showed her how he would use the steep inclines as an excuse to scream and curse. How pushing through the pain of a seemingly never-ending hill sometimes made you feel like you could surmount any kind of pain.

The only one who hadn’t seemed to enjoy the trail was Mr. Wigglesworth. If he wasn’t tugging at the leash, trying to run off into the undergrowth, he was tucking his tail as they yelled and cussed and pushed their muscles to their limits. It must have been very confusing for the poor thing.

Movie night rolled around, and Caitlyn begged to sit with her friends. Whitman had set up his own blanket in his usual spot, between the screen and the popcorn machine. The night’s featured movie, The Princess Bride, wasn’t exactly a watch with your sister kind of film. He wanted the closeness that he and Whitman had shared the last time, even if he didn’t want anything to actually come of it. Travis was turning himself inside out with his want and his baffling decision not to pursue anything more than friendship. Travis’s head was too full, so he let her sit across the lawn while he wavered on how close his blanket should lie next to Whitman’s.

Very close, it turned out.

Their knees touched during the entire chase scene – from the Cliffs of Insanity and into the Fire Swamp. When Westley was attacked by the R.O.U.S., Travis jumped and their thighs brushed. The air between them, what little there was as they had shifted closer and closer throughout the movie, was thick and heavy with tension. He had never prickled with the awareness of his own body’s every move before. Every breath he took, he worried if it was too obvious that he was excited or if he needed to breathe shallower to hide his nerves.

Whitman had to get up to check on the popcorn during the Miracle Max scene, and Travis exhaled like he had been holding his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time just sitting next to someone had wreaked havoc with his senses like this. He didn’t know if it was all in his head or if Whitman felt it too, but he was dizzy with it.

When Whitman returned, he had a bag of jelly beans and two bottles of lemonade.

“I forgot I stashed these inside for us,” Whitman whispered. Travis leaned in and then leaned in some more. He was so close their cheeks almost touched, until Whitman ripped open the bag and jelly beans flew everywhere.

“Oops.”

Whitman snagged a runaway bean from a crease in Travis’s jeans at his thigh and popped it into his mouth. Travis’s breath caught as Whitman leaned forward to pick the one that had landed between his legs.

Whitman moved slowly, like Travis was a skittish animal that he didn’t want to run off. He puffed deep slow breaths as he turned until he was face to face with Travis. Travis swayed from lack of oxygen, but when Whitman clasped a hand behind Travis’s neck to steady him, he gasped.

With the movie screen behind his head, Travis couldn’t see Whitman’s expression very well, except for the light from somewhere that reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle. They were so mesmerizing, that Travis didn’t even realize he was about to be kissed until soft lips touched his own.

His eyes flickered shut as the warmth from the kiss expanded from his chest and around his neck like flames licking at his body. His lips tingled where Whitman gently pressed, and cool puffs of air from Whitman’s nose tickled his upper lip. He was dizzy again, over a simple G-rated kiss, and he would have swooned had it not been for the strong hand holding him by the neck.

Whitman’s lips curled up into a smile against his, causing the butterflies in Travis’s belly to go nuts. It was that, not the flames of lust but the flutters of love, or at least a whole lot of like, that jolted Travis into awareness.

“I have to go.”

Travis sprung to his feet and tugged his blanket from under Whitman’s knee, sending jelly beans raining onto the poor man. Whitman sat back onto his own blanket, calmly watching Travis freak out without a word. Travis risked a glance, though, and there was definitely an eyebrow involved.

Travis raced from the lawn and the library and was halfway home before he remembered his sister.