Ty came over and picked up a cushion that had fallen on the floor. “That went pretty well. I liked how you handled them.”
Dylan turned to his uncle. “Really? They all walked out on me.”
Ty waved that off. “It happens. The last thing teenagers want you to know is that they’re listening to you and agreeing with you. The first time I led a teen group, it lasted maybe ten minutes before the whole lot of them walked out the door. I didn’t have the basketball court or the game stations then, so they all went home. Your group lasted a lot longer than that.”
“Maybe. But they still left.” Dylan sighed.
“No, they’re still here.” Ty pointed to the boys outside the window, shooting layups and teasing each other between shots. “Getting teenagers to listen is like turning a cruise ship. You don’t yank the wheel hard to the right. You nudge it, a little at a time, so the passengers don’t even feel the turn.”
Dylan chuckled. “Covert counseling?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Talking to the teenagers had been like talking to his former self, if he could have done that fifteen or sixteen years ago and with better results. Of course, Dylan hadn’t listened to anyone back then, not even his uncle. Dylan had been so angry at the world, so ready to leave Stone Gap. Maybe if he’d listened years ago, his path wouldn’t have been so rocky, and he wouldn’t be thirty-two and still trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up.
“Don’t worry so much. You’re doing great.” Ty looked around the room and let out a long breath. “There’s so much to do here. I put everything on hold when Virginia got sick because I kept thinking she’d get better and I’d have time, but...” Ty shook his head. “I need to repaint. Replace that carpet. Repair a few of the chairs and sofas, fix the kitchen cabinets, replace a chunk of countertop that rotted when we had a water pipe burst. One of the toilets is leaking and there’s a hole in the roof, two broken windows, a big hole in the hallway wall and another over there. That’s just the big stuff, not to mention all the little things that need to be done around this place. I don’t even know where to start.”
He could hear the stress in Ty’s voice. The center was, indeed, in need of a major overhaul. Major overhauls—of buildings at least—were something Dylan could do. He draped an arm over his uncle’s shoulders. “It’s like steering a cruise ship, Uncle Ty. One thing at a time. Show me where the tools are and I’ll start on the repairs today.”
Gratitude eased the worry in Ty’s face. His uncle looked tired, worn down by the last few weeks. “I’ll get my toolbox. I have a list as long as my arm of things I need to buy at the hardware store—”
“Give it to me. Go home tonight, let me lock up. The center’s only open for another hour, and I’m sure I can handle things for that long. I’ll run over to Ernie’s hardware store in the morning and start the repair work tomorrow.” It was the least he could do for his uncle during his time here. And, it would keep Dylan busy, which would also keep him from running into his brother. Or think about what he was going to do next, after he was done in Stone Gap. He had a job offer from his boss to manage a construction project in Maine. It was a multiyear commitment starting in the spring, for a slew of new housing. His boss had taken Dylan under his wing a couple years ago, even paid for Dylan to take the contractor’s exam, to make him official. Jay was a good man, who had a similar history to Dylan’s, and they’d hit it off from the start. It was the longest Dylan had ever stayed with one job, and most of that was due to Jay’s support.
Dylan had put off the decision, telling Jay he needed to go to Stone Gap first. Be there for Uncle Ty and then...
Dylan would see. Taking the job from Jay would mean staying in one place, something Dylan wasn’t so sure he wanted.
“Thank you, Dylan.” Ty’s eyes watered. “If Virginia and I had ever had a son...”
The emotion chafed at Dylan. He never knew quite what to do with emotions, his own or other people’s. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me, Uncle Ty. Or I’ll be the one heading out to the basketball court.”
“Point taken.” Ty chuckled. He dropped his keys into Dylan’s palm. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Dylan squeezed his uncle’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control. See you tomorrow.”
As his uncle walked out of the building, the brunette—Cody’s mother, Abby—emerged from Ty’s office for the second time. Dylan had noticed her standing by the watercooler earlier. He didn’t know how much, if any, she’d overheard of the conversation between him and the teenagers, or if she’d just been standing there to get a drink of water.
Abby and Mavis talked for a moment. Then Abby gave Mavis a nod and headed over to Dylan, with her little boy in tow. He was a younger version of Cody, but with a bright, inquisitive face and a ready smile.
“Mavis asked me to set up the snack for everyone because she has to leave early today. And she suggested I get some help, because there are a whole lot of hungry kids here.”
He grinned. “So you’re asking me to be crowd control?”
“Pretty much, yes. But if you’re busy...”
“No, not at all.” He could have been in the middle of building the Taj Mahal, and he would have told her he had plenty of time. Something about her blue-green eyes drew him in, made him want to know more about her. They were...
Intoxicating.
A tug on the hem of Dylan’s T-shirt drew his attention. He glanced down and saw Abby’s youngest son peering up at him, with eyes a deeper green than his mother’s. He was a cute kid, only three feet tall, wearing a Transformers T-shirt, jeans and sneakers that blinked red lights when he walked. “I wanna snack. Miss Mavis said you’re gonna make me one.”
Abby put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Jake, that isn’t what Miss Mavis said. Mommy’s gonna make the snack.”
Jacob gave his mother a doubtful look. “But you don’t cook very good, Mommy.”
Abby’s cheeks flushed. Dylan liked that. The blush made her seem open, vulnerable. “I’m going to head into the kitchen now before my son spills any more family secrets.”
Dylan chuckled. “That’s okay. I used to do that to my older brother all the time when we were kids. Especially if he had a girlfriend over. I once told Wendy Simmons about the time Sam got a hornet stuck in his shorts. I thought Sam was going to kill me.”
That made Abby smile. She had a nice smile. Warm, friendly. “Sam... Sam Millwright? He’s your brother? I’ve met him a couple times. He sold my boss the property that houses our offices.”
“Yup. Sam’s my brother.” Dylan fell into step beside her as they walked toward the small kitchen at the back of the community center. “Almost five years older, but he thinks he’s twenty years older. Like he’s my father and needs to remind me how to be responsible.”
Okay, so maybe a little more resentment leaked into his voice than he would have liked. No need to spill his own family secrets to a person who was, essentially, a stranger.
“I have a younger sister like that. She’s the one who did it all right.
