Chapter 21
JACE
“Soooo…explain to me again what we’re doing here?”
Owen’s voice lifts slightly at the end, like he’s asking a question, even though it’s really more of a demand. He didn’t even say please.
“Looking for ideas,” I tell him, plowing my way through the front doors of the library, heading directly for my chosen section.
I am a man on a mission and I will not be stopped.
I weave my way through the stacks, as if on autopilot, my body knowing exactly where we’re headed. Halfway to the back, on the righthand side, and now spanning three whole aisles. Kenzie Wilder has really beefed up the selection in the last couple of years.
“In the romance section?”
I throw a look over my shoulder at him. Yes, in the romance section. Does he even know me?
Actually, I can’t take full credit here. Oddly enough, Hux deserves a teensy tiny bit of it. But really, only the ittiest, bittiest, teensy tiny, minuscule, barely noticeable amount. He was giving me shit when he said it.
Despite my better judgment, I still headed to Pour Decisions for Drafts and Dig In after being unceremoniously kicked out by Presley.
Part of me wanted to barge back in there and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe and prove to her that I am in this and she is what I want.
Another part wanted to sit in her driveway and guard the house, making sure that everything was okay and that I wasn’t missing something else going on.
A third part wanted to mask all the hurt I was feeling with a damn good distraction.
Lord of the Fries food truck and their Elote fries, all smothered in cotija cheese, crema, chili powder, cilantro, and freshly grilled corn was such a distraction.
My brothers didn’t miss my foul attitude though. Nor the fact that Presley was missing. I should have left it with a simple “she’s busy” or “couldn’t get a babysitter.” But I didn’t. I unloaded on them. Confided in them.
It was not the brotherly love moment that I was hoping for.
Nope, they all laughed. Like somehow I was the idiot in this situation. Which is really rich coming from them, since they all had their own moments as they were figuring out things with their women. And I was helpful every time they needed me.
Sort of. Mostly.
Finally, Hux chimed in with something useful. “I thought you were the expert in all this?” He laughed, shaking his head. “What would happen in one of your books?”
That was all the inspiration I needed. Well, not all. It didn’t give me the answer I was looking for on how to make this all right. To figure out what I did wrong in the first place. But it was enough to turn on the lightbulb and get the gears moving.
And required a trip to the Hickory Hills town library.
“Of course.” I shrug, stopping in the middle of the aisle and turning toward my best friend. “It’s the answer to everything.”
Owen glares at me, one eye squinting while the other’s brow is raised, like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. But I know I’m right. Or will be. Once I figure out what I did wrong.
“Just how much did you have to drink last night?”
“None.” It’s the truth. I was much more focused on eating my feelings than drinking them this time. Seemed more productive somehow. Doubt that it was, but in the moment that made sense too. “I promise this makes sense. This is going to help me figure out how to show Presley I mean business.”
“Dude, if she didn’t take your word for it, then maybe you should just accept that you got dumped. It’s cool—happens to all of us.”
No, I will not accept it. Because that’s not what this is. I just need to find a way to demonstrate that I mean what I say. That both my words and actions are real.
That I’m not her fucking ex.
I pull a book from the shelf, flipping immediately to the back and starting to scan.
Nope, not this one. I put it back and move on to another.
That one isn’t it either. Nor is the one next to it—I don’t even need to open it to know.
I’ve read that one, twice. It’s a damn good story, but not quite the right vibe.
“She didn’t dump me. We’re…”
“So help me, if you say we’re on a break…”
“Or what?” I challenge. “You gonna revoke my man card?”
It was a common joke in college when I started reading romance. Not necessarily from Owen, but some of the other guys we knew threw it around like a hacky sack. At one point, I printed one out and laminated it to pull from my wallet and try to hand it to them every time they brought it up.
“Please don’t tell me you still have that in your wallet too.”
I don’t. Willa officially confiscated it years ago after she caught a glimpse.
While she didn’t know the history behind it—and I wasn’t about to admit to it—she assumed the worst, laying into me about how it was toxic and immature to be in possession of such a thing.
I didn’t—don’t—disagree, so I let her toss it.
Turning to Owen, I smirk, shrugging softly, not admitting to anything. He can believe what he wants.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that we’ve hit a bump in the road. That’s all.”
Owen snorts. “That’s what you’re calling this? She escorted you from her house. After avoiding you all week. Immediately after sleeping with you. And here I thought these books had taught you how to please a woman.”
My smirk falls and I glare at him. As my best friend since childhood, he can get away with saying these kinds of things without me punching him. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though.
My sleepover with Presley wasn’t the catalyst. It was…
beautiful. Perfect. Everything I could have wanted in my first time with a partner.
Getting to see that side of Presley was incredible.
Awe inspiring. There aren’t enough words to express my feelings about being the one she trusted to go there with. To show me her whole self.
Unless…she didn’t enjoy it.
No, I would know. There would have been signs.
Like her telling you to get lost…
No. That’s not what this is. She did enjoy it. The light in her eyes and the palpable joy radiating off her as I held her wouldn’t have been there if she hadn’t. Her freak-out last night wasn’t because she didn’t enjoy it. It’s because she did. And now she’s afraid.
I have to make her not afraid.
But how?
I reach for another book. I don’t recognize it, but the wolf on the cover tells me that it’s probably not what I’m looking for.
A good shifter book can certainly hit the spot, but not today.
Continuing to scan the shelves, I land on a whole shelf of Pippa Grant.
Jackpot. She’ll have something. The rom-com goddess herself will know how to solve my issue.
Plus, we’ll get a good laugh while doing it.
“Have you considered just accepting it?” Owen asks, breaking my concentration. “You were dead set on hating her for so long. Maybe that simply can’t be overcome.”
“It can. We’re different people now. We’re just in our third act breakup, that’s all. We’re gonna be fine.”
As soon as I figure out how to get us on the other side.
“Your what?”
“Our third act breakup. The part of the book where the couple breaks up, sometimes for a silly reason, sometimes because of something legit, but then gets back together after they’ve both removed their heads from their asses.”
“I don’t recommend telling Presley that she has her head up her ass. For what that’s worth.”
Owen grabs another Pippa Grant book, opens to the first page, and starts reading. Flirting with the Frenemy—good choice. He’ll like Wyatt Morgan.
Sighing, I turn to him. I know he’s supportive of whatever I choose to do—he isn’t standing in the middle of the romance section of the library with me for nothing—but I’m not sure he realizes the spiral this has sent me into.
That when the door slammed in my face last night, I saw the future I’d started to daydream about crumble.
Fall apart in a single second. And that I am desperate to get it back.
“I just have to help Presley understand that’s what’s going on and that this—us—is what she wants. That I’m in this. For her and Otis. That…” I swallow hard, pushing myself to say the words out loud for the first time. “That they’re the future I want.”
Owen nods, pressing his lips together. “Okay then. Let’s get you through this third act breakup.”
And this is why he’s my best friend. My ride or die. Because he gets it.
“Oh, did I hear third act breakup?” Kenzie Wilder, the town librarian, coos, appearing next to me. “I love a good third act breakup. I know not everyone does, but give me that overly dramatic angst any day.”
She waggles her eyebrows, like she’s bringing us in on a well-kept and scandalous secret.
“Me too,” I agree.
Well, I mean, other than living it out for myself. This does kind of suck.
“Is that what you’re after today? Some really good angst?” Kenzie continues. “Because if so, I’ve got the perfect rec for you.”
“No, I need a…” Shit, how do I explain this?
It was one thing to tell Owen that I needed inspiration and was hoping that my favorite authors could provide it. It’s another thing to tell my little sister’s best friend, who also happens to be the wife of a country mega star. I’m not sure I want to blast my business out to the world like that.
“Jace needs to un-fuck up,” Owen offers for me.
“And you think your answer is here?”
I shrug. “Always works out for these guys. And it wasn’t so much that I think the answer will be there, but maybe lead me to it.”
Kenzie nods, pursing her lips as she thinks.
The fact that she isn’t laughing at me soothes the worry inside me.
At least the worry about this. It does nothing to halt the panic that I won’t be able to fix this.
That I’m going to be left watching Presley and Otis from a distance, wanting what I can’t have.
“Sooo…” she starts. “Not to tell you how to live your life, but I’ll just say this. Sometimes it’s not always big things, but little things. Like showing up.”
I start to counter, to tell her I did show up. I found a solution to the babysitter problem. I had the answer. But then I stop.
Because that’s when it hits me. Like a big ol’ wrecking ball slamming into a building, demolishing everything in its wake.
I might have had an answer. But it wasn’t the answer.
I was solving a “problem” she didn’t have.
Instantly, my mind flashes back to the first time I went to her place.
The smile on her face when I jumped in to help with Otis.
When I heated up the food Miss Belle sent me with.
The serene, yet glowing look on her face when she saw me doing the dishes.
The way she lit up when I stayed and helped her while she was sick.
It was never about the lack of babysitter.
I think back to her text on Wednesday and all the things she said she had to do. Little Man’s doctor’s appointment, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, plus work. All by herself. With no time for herself.
Presley didn’t need me to ask my own mama to watch Otis so she could have a night out. She needs a night off.
And for someone else to do the damn dishes.
“Kenzie, you’re a genius.”
I reshelve the book and throw my arms around her. Kenzie squeaks, my enthusiasm catching her off guard.
“Glad I could be of assistance?”
Stepping back, I nod. “You were a huge help. I know what I need to do.”
“Gonna share?” Owen asks, turning the page in his book. Yeah, I knew he’d be sucked in to that one.
“Better, you’re gonna help.” I slap him on the back. “Right after you check that out so you can finish it.”
“I was just keepin’ myself entertained while you figured your life out.”
Ha, likely story.
I pluck the book from his hand and pass it to Kenzie. “He’ll take this one.”
“Good choice.” She winks, turning on her heel to head back to the loan desk.
“So, what’d you figure out?” Owen asks again, following our sweet town librarian.
“What I should have done to begin with. Show up.”