Page 38 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

“Famous, am I?” Sera asked, stepping around him. “That’s news to me.”

“Well, there aren’t many women who make my little brother come asking for a favor,” Oz said.

Wes groaned. Oz was definitely here to needle him. Wes could see it in his brother’s eyes. And Sera didn’t know how his twin could be. “No. Get out, Oz.”

“So he asked you for a favor?” Sera pushed Wes to the side. “It was for the books, wasn’t it?”

Wes shook his head. Then just turned and walked back to the workbench. There was no stopping either one of them.

“It was for the books. Which I assume you didn’t give him,” Oz said.

“Nope.”

He heard the smile in her voice, and that made him smile too. His stomach tightened as he thought about the last time he’d heard that note in her voice. It had been yesterday when she’d worked next to him and he tried to forget his arm had brushed her breast. Now she was talking to his brother and who knew how that would go.

But Wes had a feeling it would be interesting to see. Oz was the most rational, straight-thinking person Wes knew. His brother only did things after taking time to consider all outcomes.

Leaving his brother and Sera alone was probably not his best idea.

Sera moved to the register to take care of a paying customer and Oz drifted over to Wes. “Why are you really here?”

“I was curious about her,” Oz said.

“And?”

“I can see why you’re sticking around Birch Lake for six weeks,” he said. “Is it for her?”

Wes shrugged.

“Wes?”

He glanced up. He didn’t really know if he was staying because of Sera. “I just need some time to process everything with Grandpa’s death. She’s helping me do that in a way.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me. This is just not like you. Even Dad said you seemed different, and he hardly notices anything that’s not involved with money,” Oz said.

“I know. It’s not like me. But I was a douche to her and to Grandpa, and I don’t know how to fix it,” he said.

“You seem to be making it up to her,” Oz said. “And Grandpa’s dead.”

“I know that.”

“So...”

“Remember that summer when Mom sent us that postcard?” Wes asked his brother. They’d been sixteen, and suddenly, after ten years of not hearing from her, the postcard had shown up.

“Yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?” Oz asked.

“I saw you reading it before bed... I know you wrote her back,” Wes said.

“Again, what of it?”

“I’m not like that. I write a person off. I did that with Grandpa too. Except he really cared about me, and I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know how... Fuck, I sound like a sap. Never mind.”

Oz crossed his arms over his chest. “Mom said she wasn’t sure why she’d sent the postcard, that she was glad we were doing okay. I didn’t write back to her after that, and she never wrote again. I’m not sure it really helped. I think she was doing it for her and not for us,” Oz said.

Wes could believe that. Their mother hadn’t ever done anything that wasn’t for herself. “That sounds like her.”

“Yeah. So, are you doing this for you or for her?” Oz asked, nodding toward Sera.

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