Free Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero by T. Ellery Hodges Page B

her that her little brother was sitting where he’d woke up in a puddle of his own blood last week.
    “I recently had an episode, got attacked in the house. It rattled me a bit,” he said. “My roommates got a little protective. You really don’t need to stay if you’re busy, I’ll be fine.”
    She gave him a look of sympathy, then leaned in again to whisper. He liked it when she did.
    “Um yeah, Jonathan,” she said. “Sounds like it’s time to nut up a bit.”
    When she pulled away he could see she was playing again and he smiled back.
    “Nut up,” he repeated.
     

     
    The first day back to campus, Jonathan felt like he’d arrived late to the movies. He paid attention, but wasn’t sure there was enough time left in the quarter to learn all that he’d missed. Still, the distraction was worth the effort. After classes were over, he showed up for his first shift at the hardware store.
    James Fletcher, his boss and the owner, was an older man who had lost his hair long ago and wore nothing but blue collars. His wife had passed away some years earlier, and as a result, he didn’t have much in life other than his business, his employees, and a smoking habit he was no longer trying to be rid of. He often said he smoked half as much when his wife was alive because she wouldn’t let him into bed smelling like an ash tray. He hadn’t expected to see Jonathan so soon.
    “What got you up off the mat so quick?” he asked. “The way your roommate described things I thought I might not see you for a few weeks.”
    “A pretty girl told me to, well, to be brave,” Jonathan said.
    Mr. Fletcher thought for a moment, looking Jonathan over, then chuckled. He’d have likely laughed out loud if Jonathan had used Leah’s exact words.
    “Yeah, that’d about do it, wouldn’t it?” James said. “Still kid, you let me know, if you need any time off, people need to take their time with these things.”
    Jonathan nodded.
    The shop had missed him. Mr. Fletcher’s other part-timers had covered some of Jonathan’s shifts but he got the impression that his boss had covered the brunt of his absence. James said he came from a time where men “worked for a living” and didn’t much care for what he referred to as Jonathan’s generation’s “pussy footing around.” He never put Jonathan in the pussy foot category, because of all his employees Jonathan got his work done and never complained, always staying until the job was finished.
    “So tell me more about this girl you got busting your balls.”
    Jonathan shrugged.
    “Guess I’ll have to wait until there’s actually something to tell,” he said.
    “Bah,” James said disappointedly.
    “Speaking of women, how’s your mom taken all this?” James asked.
    Jonathan looked away.
    “I haven’t told her,” he said.
    A time passed and James finally nodded sympathetically.
    “I get it, Jonathan,” he said.
    James turned away then, returning to the cash register and leaving Jonathan to work. He felt gratitude as he watched the old man walk away. It was the first time that particular disclosure hadn’t been met with, at least, a look of disapproval. It occurred to him that James was the only person he knew who’d lived through a war. Maybe that was why Mr. Fletcher, more than anyone else he knew, could understand.
     

     
    Grant and Paige sat on the couch. She was giggling, trying to get control of her laughter.
    She’d been listening to stories from his first few weeks in the army. More often than not they’d made her smile. Grant was so attentive. He’d never been clingy or overly talkative, never pressed her for her time or her feelings, but lately he seemed to want to see her whenever she’d had a free moment.
    His presence alone was relieving, not just because he was a shoulder to lean on, but because the man was built like a bull. Since the attack, awareness that they might be being watched by some criminal had lingered in the background. When she’d