Out of respect, Jax had never made any rebellious statements that would get his autistic younger sister booted out of their adoptive home. He still wasn’t entirely certain thatstatementshadn’t got his biological father killed. Franklin Jackson had not been one to quietly ignore wrong-doing, which Jax already knew from experience could bring the roof down on him.
His goal was to get rich so he could keep Ariel safe, which also involved finding out exactly what had happened to his father—if only so it didn’t happen to him.
Not glancing twice at his not-exactly-inconspicuous team, Evie served up a platter of French toast. “Twisted bubbles?” she reminded Loretta.
The front door opened and a golden retriever dashed in. Mavis followed more sedately with a drink carton of coffee cups.
Jax pondered his walnut-sized bubble and the contrast of Evie’s circus of a kitchen with his sedate, stainless steel one. He resisted adding syrup to eggs and waited for coffee.
“Twisted doesn’t mean bad,” Loretta claimed, through a sticky sweet mouthful. “Just different.”
Well, that was a little obvious. Jax breathed coffee fumes gratefully when Mavis set the box in front of him. It held four cups and Mavis took one of them.She’d known his team was here?
“Gertie said one of your friends prefers hazelnut. She marked that cup with an H.” Mavis took her cup to a stool beside the central island butcher block—obviously not part of the original Victorian kitchen but probably a 60’s renovation.
Gertiedidn’t know his team was here, did she? Or the whole damned town knew. Why not?
“Thanks, Mom. You want your usual?” Evie threw an egg on the griddle.
“That’s fine, dear. Am I taking Loretta over to the school this morning? The auspices are good.”
“We’re learning about twisted bubbles first,” Evie warned. “Loretta?”
The kid finished off her milk, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip—like any normal kid.
“People are all different,” the kid said, sensibly. “And they change. Most people just have... invisible bubbles?” she asked hesitantly.
Of course, the kid had just been playing a game calledBubble Witch.
Evie nodded as if she understood. “I see auras. Most people have layers that fluctuate with mood. Sometimes they’re too transparent to see. Something like that?”
“Maybe.” Loretta seemed skeptical. “I see bubblesinsidepeople. Some have big ones, sort of around their hearts, that grow when they laugh and get smaller when they cry. Those are the best teachers.”
“The ones with empathic hearts are usually good souls,” Mavis added helpfully. “That’s a very interesting insight.”
Jax drank half his coffee and kept his opinion to himself. Bubbles equated tosouls? Rubbish.
Reuben stalked in, newly showered if not shaved. He was apparently aiming for respectable with only partially ripped jeans and his MIT T-shirt. Jax pointed at the seat beside him and handed him the hazelnut.
“Twisted bubble?” Evie encouraged. The petite genie set a plate stacked with French toast in front of the scary scarred Black guy without blinking an eyelash. “Fruit or syrup?”
Jax hadn’t been offered that choice. Maybe walnuts didn’t get fruit.
Or maybe she knew Reuben was gay and was insulting him. Who the hell knew?
Reuben requested fruit. Reuben had a twisted bubble. Jax waited.
“Have you ever blown bubbles?” Loretta asked. “Those great big ones we’re not allowed to blow inside?”
“They twist into lovely shapes, dear.” At the butcher block, Mavis dipped a strip of toast into the runny egg Evie slid in front of her. “They’re pretty in the sunlight.”
“Like that.” Loretta nodded as if that made sense. “They twist and shrink and then grow and wind into shapes again. They’re transparent and rainbow colored and pretty but not like the little round bubbles machines make.”
Jax snorted. “You’re rainbow colored, my friend,” he murmured to Reuben.
Reuben grinned. “Shut up, smartass.”
Loretta gifted them with a frown of scorn. “I don’t know many people with bubbles like that. I need to learn about them.”