The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Isla gave the driver cash before he could even come to a full stop.
“Keep the change,” she muttered, already yanking the door open and stumbling out onto the pavement.
As she pushed through the front door, her steps faltered, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
The pub looked like a bomb had gone off in it.
The bar was almost empty.
Broken bottles littered the floor, their contents pooling in sticky puddles.
Some chairs were overturned, some broken, their legs splayed at unnatural angles.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood Jeremy.
He was talking to two officers, his arms crossed over his chest and his face unreadable.
His shirt was untucked, his hair disheveled, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
Landon sat on one of the few upright stools, his head in his hands.
Isla’s throat tightened.
“Jeremy.”
His head snapped up, and when his eyes met hers, his expression softened into relief.
Isla crossed the room, stepping carefully around the broken glass, her heart pounding so hard she could almost feel it in her ears.
“Jeremy, I—” She stopped in front of him, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles went white.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have—”
“It’s not your fault.” He said.
Exhaustion laced in his voice.
“But I was the last one with him. I let him take the keys and—”
“Did you know what he was going to do?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then it’s not your fault.”
“But—”
“It’s not your fault, Isla.” He said it again, slower this time, as if he were trying to make her understand.
“John’s the one who did this. Not you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but one of the officers stepped forward, clearing his throat.
“Miss? We need to take your statement. You were the last one to see Mr Mercer before the robbery?”
“Yes.” Isla nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.
The questioning took longer than she expected.
She walked them through everything.
She answered every question, her voice steady even as her hands trembled.
When it was finally over, the officers packed up their notebooks to leave.
“Thank you, Officers,” Jeremy said.
“We’re doing our jobs. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. We’ll let you know if we find anything,” one of them said.
Jeremy nodded, but didn’t say anything else.
They walked to the entrance, and the door swung shut behind them.
Silence settled over the pub.
Isla stood in the middle of the chaos, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes darting from the broken glass to the overturned tables to the empty register.
How could this have happened?
“How did you get here so fast?” Jeremy’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“I—took a taxi.”
He nodded, his eyes scanning the space around them.
“You must have flown to get here this quickly.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She looked at the mess again, her stomach twisting.
“I should have been here earlier. I should have been awake. I should have known something was—”
“Isla.”
She stopped, meeting his eyes.
“You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He crossed the space between them, his footsteps crunching on the broken glass.
“You were the last person with him, yeah. But that doesn’t make you responsible for what he did.”
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to tell him that she should have seen the signs, that she should have been more careful and that she’d let him down.
But the words wouldn’t come.
And something in his expression told her even if she had the right words, they wouldn’t help anyway.
Landon rose from his stool, stretching his back with a groan.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
“My son’s got a doctor’s appointment in an hour, and I promised I’d be there.” The source of this chapter is g.com.
Jeremy nodded.
“Thanks for coming, Landon. I appreciate it.”
“Always.” Landon clapped him on the shoulder.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Then he left.
Isla looked around the room again.
“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.
“I mean—what’s going to happen to the pub?”
Jeremy let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said slowly.
“I was going to renovate anyway. I’ve been stalling, but…” He shrugged.
“Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to stop putting it off.”
“Renovate?” She looked around the space again, trying to see the potential beneath the damage.
“That’s…actually a good idea.”
“Yeah.” He laughed, but it was hollow.
“It’s not how I wanted to start things, but…”
“I’m really sorry, Jeremy.” The words came out before she could stop them.
“I feel like I let you down.”
He stopped what he was doing, his hands still on the edge of a broken table.
“You didn’t let me down,” he said quietly.
“You showed up. You did your job. None of this is on you.”
“How’s your sister?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“She had surgery last night. Doctors say she’s going to be fine. She’ll be in the hospital for a few days, but—” He shrugged.
“It’s good news.”
“That’s…that’s really good news.”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell between them again.
“Hey, Don’t you have classes today?”
She looked up.
“I—I do. But I can skip it. I want to stay and help.”
Jeremy studied her for a moment, his eyes moving across her face like he was trying to read something hidden there.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I can handle this. You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupted.
“Please. Let me help.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded.
“Okay.”
Isla grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the broken glass.
“It’s the third time this has happened, you know,” Jeremy said.
Isla’s hands stilled on the broom.
“The pub’s been robbed three times now?”
Jeremy nodded, his eyes distant.
“That’s why I installed the cameras. Not instinct like I told the cops. I just…” He laughed, shaking his head.
“I didn’t want to explain everything.”
She waited, letting him continue.
“The first time was ten years ago. Back when the pub was still new. It was just my mom and me back then.” His voice softened.
“She was so happy when she bought this place. Like, she’d just won the lottery or something.”
Isla smiled.
“That’s sweet.”
“It was.” He was staring at something in the distance.
“She’d been drowning in grief for so long, ever since my dad died. He was her high school sweetheart. They’d been together since they were fifteen. And when he passed…” He trailed off, swallowing hard.
“She didn’t think she’d ever be happy again.”
“But she found this place.” Isla smiled.
“Yeah. She found this place. And she threw herself into it. Made it feel like a home. Like a family. For me. For my sisters.” He laughed, and this time it was almost genuine.
“You’d have thought she owned a bank the way she carried on about it.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. However, I had to step in as my mom’s husband and as my sisters’ brother. Tough roles, I’d say.” He joked.
Isla laughed.
Surprisingly.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her smile fading.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“The second robbery was two years ago, gunpoint, and the culprits made off with it. And now John? Just disappointing.”
“You said he’s your friend. Do you have an idea why he did it?”
Jeremy shrugged.
“The thing is, John was once my mom’s boyfriend.”
Isla stared in disbelief.
Jeremy laughed at the look on her face.
“He could literally pass off as a stepdad because he lived with us for like four years.”
“I didn’t expect the connection. At all.”
Jeremy nodded.
“John is a cool guy. Nice. We kept in touch even after things ended with my mom.”
“It’s really disappointing.”
“Yeah. One thing is sure, John did it for the money. He’s probably in debt again cause he has like…a poker addiction.”
“But—”
He interrupted her.
“I know what you are thinking. That I shouldn’t have trusted him.” He sighed.
“But he was so good to my mom. She got to enjoy happiness with him. Good memories, I must say.”
Isla’s forehead creased.
“She died three years ago. Cancer.”
Isla’s breath caught in her throat.
“I’m so sorry.”
“She was happy. That’s what matters.”
“So when you said you were stalling on the renovation—”
“I didn’t want to change anything.” His voice was quieter now.
“This place breathes her. The way she arranged the tables. The color she painted the walls. The way she insisted on serving those ridiculous herbal teas that nobody ever ordered.”
“I noticed those. They seemed very…specific.”
He laughed.
“She was obsessed with them. Said they reminded her of her grandmother. I’ve been meaning to take them off the menu for years, but I could never bring myself to do it.”
She watched him for a moment.
His expression held a pained smile.
Isla set down the broom and crossed the room to stand near him.
“Jeremy,” she said softly.
“I’m so sorry.”
He looked away.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You lost your mom. That’s not fine.”
He finally looked up at her, and she saw the grief in his eyes—raw and aching, just beneath the surface.
“Life goes on,” he said.
“It has to.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” she told him.
“Not with me.”
He chuckled softly.
“I don’t even know you that well,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged.
“I’m here. I’m willing to help however I can.”
A beat of silence.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
“Will the pub be opening this week?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Not for a few days. I need to figure out what to do about the renovation, and the insurance, and—” He stopped, exhaling heavily.
“There’s a lot.”
“I can help whenever you need me. Whatever you need.”
He let out a real smile.
“I appreciate that.”
His phone buzzed.
He took it out of his pocket, glanced down at the screen, and his expression shifted.
“I need to take this,” he said, already stepping away.
“Excuse me.”
She watched him walk away towards the kitchen area, his phone pressed to his ear, and his shoulders tensed up.