Anna Stewart - The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor

“’Bye, Cash.” Simon waved and Holly steeled herself against the sorrowful expression that crossed her son’s face. Something told her he’d be begging for a dog again come dinnertime. “Mom, is Sheriff Saxon the reason Grandpa doesn’t walk right?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“At the diner.” He puffed out his chest. “I hear everything there. So is it true?”

So much for hoping this conversation could wait until Simon was older. She should have realized Simon would be privy to tons of town gossip, but how else was she going to keep an eye on him if she didn’t bring him to the diner with her? “Luke was involved in the accident where your grandpa got hurt, yes.” She dropped her hand on Simon’s shoulder, not wanting to delve too deeply into a topic that could bring up memories of Gray’s death. “It was a long time ago, Simon. Way before you were born.”

“But you’re still angry with him. And now he’s taking Grandpa’s job?” The annoyance in her eight-year-old’s voice twisted her insides into knots not even a magician could loosen. Blast it, the last thing she wanted was for her anger with Luke to trickle down to her son. “That’s not right. I thought sheriffs were supposed to be good guys.”

“Luke didn’t take your grandpa’s job, Simon.” When Simon’s shoulders stiffened, she knew his overactive brain was already spinning. She circled in front of him and stooped down, gripping his little arms in her hands. “Simon, I need you to hear me, okay? What’s happened is because of decisions other people have made, including your Grandpa. Yes, we’re all sad he’s not sheriff anymore, but think about all the extra time you’ll get to spend with him now. You have fun with Grandpa, don’t you? Maybe he’ll even teach you to fish like you’ve always wanted.”

“I like Grandpa being sheriff. He stops bad guys, Mom. Like I want to. And he’s good at it.”

“Well, maybe Luke will be good at it, too.” The idea of Simon chasing bad guys gave her chills. The last thing she needed was for him to launch himself off the top of a building in the hopes he’d fly. She brushed too-long bangs out of Simon’s face and made a mental note to make a haircut appointment for him for next week. “I need your help with this, bud, okay? Grandpa will, too. You have to stay out of trouble and behave. Can you do that for me?”

Simon shrugged. “I guess.”

Those wheels were grinding in his head; she could see them. “We’re in this together, remember? With your dad gone, we have to be a team. And you know how important teamwork is. Just like your superheroes, right?”

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