Unsuitable

“I’m at the mini-mart on The Broadway.”

I didn’t even question why he was at a supermarket and in need of my help.

I have a pretty good idea why he is there and needs my help, but I really, really don’t want it to be true.

But, either way, it doesn’t matter. If Jesse needs me, I’m there.

“There’s a mini-mart on The Broadway in Sutton. That’s where Jesse is.”

I watch as Kas inputs the address into his GPS. When it’s set, he puts the car in drive.

The silence is deafening, and my mind is working overtime.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say quietly.

“Do you?” He doesn’t look at me.

“You think that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

But he doesn’t disagree that I am trouble.

He’s right. I might try to keep my life clean and problem-free, but no matter how hard I try, problems always find me.

A part of me wants to ask what exactly he was thinking, but I’m too chickenshit to do so. Instead, I sit quietly and just stare out the window.

Kas pulls up outside the mini-mart twenty minutes later. It feels like it was the longest twenty minutes of my life. We didn’t speak the whole way here. And I’ve been worrying about Jesse and what to expect when I get inside that supermarket.

“Thanks for the lift.” I unclip my seat belt. “I really appreciate it.”

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

I slide a glance at him. His expression is tight, but his lips have a soft curl to them.

“You’re right. I have been. I’m sorry,” I say.

“You say that a lot, too.”

“You mean, sorry?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s because I am sorry. I don’t mean to be a bother to you.”

He exhales a tired sound. “You’re not a bother.” He turns his face to me, his eyes fixing on mine. When he speaks again, it sounds like his voice is lined with gravel, “Honestly, it’s surprising to me, just what I am willing to do for you.”

That takes me aback. What does he mean by that?

Unsure and nervous, I swallow roughly. “Well, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” I tear my eyes from his and reach down to retrieve my bag from the footwell. My heart is hammering in my chest. “Once I’m done here and I’ve gotten Jesse back home, I’ll come straight back to work, and I’ll stay late to make up the time.”

“You don’t need to.”

I don’t?

That brings my eyes back to his. “I don’t? But that’s a whole afternoon’s work.” And I need the money. I don’t say that, of course.

Kas must read the concern in my eyes because his own soften. “I’ll still pay you for the full day. Just go see to your brother, Daisy.”

With warmth in my heart, I curl my fingers around the door handle and open it. “Thank you so much.” I blush, realizing that I’m thanking him again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he says.

I get out of the car and shut the door.

I watch as Kas drives away.

His words echo through my mind. “Honestly, it’s surprising to me, just what I am willing to do for you.”

My stomach flips and tightens. What on earth did he mean by that?

But, right now, I don’t have the time to think about what he meant. I need to get to Jesse.

Taking a deep breath, I ready myself, and then I walk into the mini-mart.

I glance around, expecting to see Jesse. Of course, I don’t.

If he did what I think he did, then he’ll be in the back with the store manager.

Please don’t have shoplifted, Jesse.

I’ve been in here to buy groceries a few times. The tills are over to my left. There are people being served. I really don’t want to go over there and ask for Jesse. I look for a security guard, but there’s no one.

Then, I see a young guy filling up the shelves down the biscuit aisle. I walk over to him.

“Excuse me. I got a call from my brother, Jesse. He said he was here…” I let my words trail off, not really sure what else to say.

Something unpleasant flickers in his gaze, and then he says, “Come with me.”

He puts the pack of biscuits that was in his hand back in the box and starts to walk away toward the back of the store. I follow him.

He stops by a door, swipes it with a fob, and opens it. He holds it open for me to pass through first.

“They’re just in the manager’s office,” he says, letting the door shut behind us.

Manager’s office? My stomach turns.

I follow him down the short corridor. He stops outside a door and knocks before opening it.

“The sister’s here,” he says to whomever’s in the room. Then, he stands aside, letting me through the door.

A guy—I’d say in his late thirties—is sitting behind a desk. I’m guessing he’s the store manager. A bigger guy in a security uniform is standing by the wall, and near him, Jesse is sitting in a chair.

His eyes meet mine. I see a glimmer of relief mixed with fear in them.

“Miss Smith?” the manager says, rising to his feet.

I step further into the room, closing the door behind me. “Daisy,” I tell him.

“I’m Jeff, the store manager. Please take a seat.” He gestures at the chair in front of his desk.