Finding the Pieces (For the Heart #2)

Prologue

Seven years ago

Ellie

“ Y ou’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” I hiss, giving the printer a sharp slap on the side. I hit it again and yank on the paper wedged between the printer spindles with a grunt, shifting my body weight as I lean away from the stupid machine, trying to free the paper from the jam. “Listen here, you piece of—”

“Am I interrupting?”

I freeze, biting my lips as my mind and body race to decide what to do being caught mid-altercation with the third-floor printer in the University of Columbus student library.

When I took this job a few weeks ago, at the start of my junior year, I imagined helping students find the books they need, checking out rentals, shelving returns, and filling the time in between reading and drinking tea at the front desk. No one told me how much time I’d spend fighting this goddamn printer.

What’s worse? Being caught mid-fight as I berate the damn thing…but I’m no quitter .

“If you just give me a second,” I say as I tug again on the paper without success. “You may want to reprint whatever you’re waiting for. Send it to printer 0895 on the second floor.”

I hear a muffled chuckle behind me, like whoever finds me amusing is trying to mask it. Awfully polite, but unfortunately for them, I’m already irritated, so it’s not enough to keep me from snapping my stare toward them, making them the lucky new focus of my aggravation.

“Something funny?” I ask before blowing the hair out of my face in a huff, my body angled toward the printer, fingers still gripping the paper trapped in this bitch printer’s claws.

“No. Nope. Nothing amusing at all.” Mystery man has the nerve to smirk at me, giving me a noticeable once-over. I roll my eyes and return my focus to the battle in front of me.

“Want me to give it a try?”

“Listen, Romeo, I do not need rescued right now. I…got…it.” I give one final tug, turning the internal spindle at the same time—which is supposed to make this easier, but decided to wait until now to be helpful. “Aha, see? Got it.”

I turn to find the stranger leaning on the door frame, arms crossed and smiling at me. A warm, shiny smile that has me blushing instantly.

I return my focus to the printer, closing the door to the internal panel and clicking the same buttons I click at least a few times a week to put this brat back in commission. When I brave another look at stranger boy, I realize he’s no stranger boy at all. He’s all man, definitely not some freshman.

His genuine smile is framed by a neatly trimmed beard, forearms flexing underneath rolled sleeves of a white button-up shirt with navy slacks. Maybe he has to give a presentation today or something.

“Looks like I don’t need to send my paper elsewhere after all.”

“Lucky you,” I say with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” His smile reaches his eyes. Actually, it’s more like positivity radiates off his entire body, completely at ease. And he hasn’t taken his eyes off me .

When the printer jolts to life with a loud mechanical whir, I startle, realizing I’ve been staring at mystery man.

“You should be good. It’s rebooting now. It’ll print a few test sheets, then you can enter your code, and it should print whatever you’re waiting for. If not, try again, and—for the love of god—send it to the second-floor printer.” I force the words out in a rush before allowing myself another glimpse in his direction.

He’s still leaning against the door frame, shoulders relaxed, carefree smile in place, head tilted at me with a look of…curiosity?

Unsure what else to do, I take a step toward the doorway to sneak past him. He shifts, resting his back against the frame, turning to face his body toward mine as I pass him.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice deep and rich. His question gives me pause, and I lean against the door frame opposite him, leaving little space between us.

“Ellie?” I say like it’s a question.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Apparently not. Yours?”

“Dominic?” he asks, mirroring my tone.

I nod thoughtfully. “It fits.”

“With some effort, sure.”

“Damn, that was quick.” I can’t keep the smile off my face as I refocus my attention on the suddenly very important scrap paper still in my hand, attempting to hide my blush.

“Can I ask you for a favor, Ellie?”

“A favor…”

“Two, actually. First, can I take you out for coffee sometime? Second, I sort of need to borrow a printing passcode.”

I ignore his first question. “Oh, are you new to campus? You just enter your student ID,” I say, gesturing to the pin pad on the printer.

I’m pretty tall, but he’s taller. Confident stance, strong build, but still emanating an approachable, easygoing energy .

He rubs the back of his neck, looking to his feet, showing the first sign of insecurity. “Ruth normally lets me print under her code,” he says, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his hand. I hadn’t noticed it before. The local cupcake shop—beloved by everyone on campus—logo printed on the side.

I raise my eyebrow in suspicion. “Why are you bribing the seventy-five-year-old librarian with cupcakes when you could enter your student ID to use the campus printers?”

“Come on, now, Ellie. Ruth is seventy- one years young, turning seventy-two in November. And technically, I was a student. Graduated last year. I’m in my first year of teaching high school history, and Ruth lets me swing by to print materials for my class every so often.”

“A teacher,” I say, giving him an appraising once-over, loving what I see, but I’m not telling him that. “Regardless of if you’re telling the truth, I might have to report Ruth for this.” I would never . Ruth is a saint. “Pretty egregious violation of librarian policy if you ask me. And you…” I shove an accusatory finger in his chest and he lifts his hands in surrender, his smile growing wider. “Taking advantage of sweet Ruth. How could you?”

“Taking advantage?” he asks in mock outrage. “Did you miss the cupcake bribe? It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. But since you’re here and Ruth is inconveniently missing, what if this cupcake became Ellie’s cupcake? Would that get me printing rights?” he asks, wiggling the bag between us.

“I assume you’re always this persistent?” I try to hide my smile, but his is contagious and I’m helpless to fight it.

“Agree to get coffee with me and you’ll see how much worse it gets.”

“Just coffee…” I agree, hoping like hell it turns into more than just coffee.

His smile and subtle wink tell me he has anything but innocent intentions, but then again, neither do I. “Sure, Ellie. We’ll start there.”