Page 61 of Jack

If they could findTy Bowman, Jack could stop overreacting.

He sat nursing his coffee at the table in Doyle’s kitchen in dawn’s early light, trying to get his brain to stop whirring on the what-ifs. Most of them about Penelope.

No,mostof them about Harper. Like, what if he’d kissed her, last night on the dance floor? That one took up most of the room in his brain, forbidden, delicious, terrifying?—

And too easily, he could find himself dragging up the past, the kiss on the beach so long ago, her long hair woven through his fingers, the smell of the ocean on her skin.

He’d spent years tucking away that memory, and yet it roused, unblemished and vivid in his brain, as if it had been waiting to ambush him.

Better to focus on her quiet disappointment at seeing the dark Bowman house last night. Mrs. Bowman had vanished. Maybe she’d gone to the store, although they’d sat outside for a good hour waiting for her before giving up and returning to Doyle’s to grab pizza with the rest of the wedding party.

Harper had said nearly nothing, and he hadn’t known what to say except a lame “We’ll find her” as she escaped upstairs.

The others stayed up late to play a game of Mexican Train.

He’d retired, too, to the bedroom he shared with Steinbeck, and had lain on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to thePenny for Your Thoughtspodcast.

He’d fallen asleep too early, halfway through the third installment.

Now, he put his earbuds back in and pushed play on his phone, trying to catch up, hating the way his gut tightened with each episode. Mostly listening to the callers who added their “pennies” at the end of each episode. He thought maybe she taped the callers and played out the armchair detectives’ theories later instead of taking live callers.

Everybody had a thought, each one wilder than the next, and that brought him around to the fact that maybe he was overthinking all of this. What was Occam’s razor? The simplest answer is usually right?

What was the simple answer?

Dawn scattered gold and rose hues over the oak kitchen table, the wooden floor, the white quartz island. Doyle—or rather his dad—had done a decent job of remodeling the old Victorian’s kitchen.

Made a guy nearly want to sell the old bus and settle down in his own planted-in-one-place house.

“You’re up early.”

The words were spoken by Boo—he was finally getting it—coming into the kitchen. She wore flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, her dark hair crazy around her head.

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his coffee and pressing stop on the podcast on his phone. “Just . . . looking for ideas.”

She opened the fridge and pulled out orange juice. “On Penelope’s podcast?”

He glanced at his phone. Oh, she must have seen his screen. “It’s a place to start.”

She closed the fridge door. “Harper said that she’d gone shopping in Minneapolis. Or maybe to Conrad’s game.” Taking out a glass, she filled it, then braced a hip against the counter. “She told me when she agreed to be a bridesmaid that she would be in and out and not to expect her at all the events. She’s a big-deal podcaster, so . . .” She turned to him. “Should I be worried?”

He had finished his coffee, so he picked up his phone, pocketed it, then walked over and put his coffee mug in the dishwasher. “I’m not sure. Harper says that she contacted her security and that she’s in Minneapolis. And if she told you that she’d be in and out . . . so maybe not.” But he wanted to circle back to Bowman’s this morning, with or without Harper.

Boo stopped him from walking past her with a hand to his arm. “For the record, I never thought you didn’t care.”

Her words made his throat thicken. He nodded. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt, Boo.”

“I’ve known that my entire life,” she said quietly, the past in her gaze.

His hand covered hers. “Don’t worry. Just focus on your wedding. It’s going to be perfect, I promise.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to promise, Jack. But I do appreciate you enacting your super tracking skills on my behalf.”

“Always.” He winked, and she nodded, the word settling, eliciting a smile.

She let go of his arm. “Don’t forget the bachelor party tonight.”

“Right. Where is it?”