Jameson Miles The Stopover Novels & Stories

Nameless Lane 9 had showed up to kick my ass in gear. Today’s a long day. Seven miles. I usually don’t mind the length. Back in Oklahoma, I switched between three different routes depending on what Coach ordered. However, I’m not in Oklahoma anymore. And the streets of Jameson, Massachusetts are unfamiliar and sometimes bricked. They are windy, confusing and different. But I like the change in scenery. As I race through unfamiliar streets, the houses get more impressive and old, and I think about the surprising turn of events following Arcadia.

The drive home unfolded in a warm, companionable silence. The city flowed past the windows, lights brushing over their faces in turn, like memories passing without being summoned. Ethan slept soundly in the back seat, one hand still clutching the plastic spoon James hadn’t had the heart to take away. Emma glanced at him through the small mirror, smiling without realizing it. “Do you want to stop for a moment?” James asked as they halted at a red light. “There’s a bookstore that stays open late.”

He’s dragging his feet behind me, refusing to speak or hold anyone’s hand, his miniature dinosaur suitcase bumping across the airport tiles. Brian, Liam and I exchange sad glances as we make our way to the security line. “He’ll be okay,” Liam whispers, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Once you’re back in Bo’Arrocan, he’ll see all his old friends and forget all about this.” I frown up at Liam, and there’s a moment in which we both realize how unlikely that is. Miles isn’t like most kids. He never forgets, and he rarely forgives. And this… Going nonverbal for a whole week straight is concerning.

No handle. I felt it before we got close. That same presence. Stronger now. Focused. Waiting. Michael stepped slightly ahead of me this time. “We stop here.” I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed. But because I understood. Jameson looked between us, his jaw tightening slightly. “This is it.” “Yes,” I said. Not an assumption. A certainty.