Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
GENEVIEVE
The drive to work is a blur.
I don’t remember hitting the turn signal. Or stopping at red lights. Or pulling into the library parking lot.
All I can think about is the utter despair in Finn’s expression when I pushed him away. Like I just cut the ground out from beneath him. Like I ripped something out of his chest with my bare hands.
I tell myself I did the right thing. That it would’ve been cruel to let him believe this could be more when I’m incapable of giving him that.
Knowing I did the right thing doesn’t make it sting any less.
It doesn’t make the ache in my chest go away when I think about climbing into bed alone tonight.
I’ve done it before. Every time Finn worked a twenty-four-hour shift. Every time he hung out with his brothers. Every time life happened.
But this is different.
Because I’ll be alone when I could be with him.
That makes it so much worse.
The summer heat presses down on me as I make my way inside the library, but the second I walk through the doors, the warmth outside feels almost cool in comparison.
The library is sweltering, fans humming in a desperate attempt to circulate the air. The windows are open, but it doesn’t help much. This old building traps heat like an oven.
When I approach the front desk, Taylor, one of my employees, looks up from the computer.
“Please tell me you heard from the HVAC company.”
“They said a technician would be out sometime between ten and four.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course they did.”
Nothing like a six-hour window to keep me on my toes.
Aggravated but relieved that someone’s at least coming, I head to my office and drop into my chair, the leather sticking to the backs of my thighs. I reach for my water bottle and take a sip, trying to focus on work.
But the moment I power up my computer, my mind returns to Finn.
To the way his voice cracked when he said my name.
To the way his eyes pleaded with me.
To the way I forced him to swallow whatever words he was about to say.
I quickly shake off the memory and focus my attention on my computer screen, blaming my lack of concentration on the heat.
Not because I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. If maybe Claire was on to something when she accused me of constantly running from love.
The idea consumes me all morning while I work on a proposal for a new literacy program until a knock sounds on my door a few hours later.
A part of me worries it’s Finn stopping by with coffee. Instead, Taylor peeks her head in.
“The HVAC guy’s here.”
I push out a relieved breath. Finally some good news.
I rise from my chair, my skin peeling away from the leather, and step down the administrative hallway and into the lobby.
A man stands near the circulation desk with a clipboard in hand. He’s broad-shouldered with a full head of gray hair, wearing a work shirt with the logo of an HVAC company. There’s something familiar about him, but I shake it off. Everyone looks familiar in a small town.
“I’m Genevieve Thomas.” I extend a hand. “The head librarian.
The moment I say my name, he does a double take. It’s quick, barely there, but I notice his eyes widen slightly before he schools his expression.
Something uneasy shifts in my stomach, but I shove it down.
People recognize me all the time. Locals come in and out of the library, and my name is listed in half the town’s event bulletins. Maybe he’s just putting a face to it.
I show him around the library, making sure he and his crew have access to everything they need to fix the air conditioning. Then I return to my office and throw myself into my to-do list, determined to shake off the morning’s events.
It doesn’t work.
Finn lingers in the back of my mind like a phantom, an ache I can’t ignore.
It’s past one when Taylor knocks again. “They’re finishing up,” she says.
I head out to thank them, finding the same man from earlier waiting near the front desk.
“I appreciate you coming out,” I say, accepting the paperwork he hands me.
His eyes flick over my face. Another too-long glance. Another strange shift in his expression. “No problem.”
He hesitates, like he wants to say something else. But then he just nods and leaves.
I watch him for several long moments, searching my brain for a memory. A spark. Something that tells me why I feel like I know him.
Nothing comes.
If my mother were here, she’d tell me I probably knew him in a past life.
Turning, I make my way back to my office, scanning the paperwork as I go.
But when I see the technician’s name, I freeze.
Because it’s not just any name.
It’s my father’s name.
Calvin Faulkner .
It’s a coincidence. It has to be.
But the way he looked at me. The hesitation. The recognition.
Could it be him? Was that man my father? Did he know who I was? Is that why he acted that way?
I glance back toward the doors he just left through, contemplating going after him to ask, when a work truck bearing the logo of the HVAC company drives by.
“Everything okay?”
I snap my eyes toward Taylor, unsure what to say. “Better now that we have working air conditioning again.”
“You’re telling me.”
I hurry the rest of the way into my office, pacing the short strip of carpet in front of my desk as I debate what to do.
I should forget about it. Forget about him .
But I need to know.
Grabbing my phone, I press my mother’s contact before I can think clearly or talk myself out of it.
“Genevieve, darling,” she answers as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. “I hope you’re calling to tell me I’m about to be a grandmother. Have you?—”
“Where does Dad work?” I cut in sharply, a bitter edge slicing through my words.
A second passes. Then another. Finally, she sighs. “You don’t need that energy in your life right now. Just focus on good things. Things that bring you joy,” she says in that light, sing-song voice she uses when she’s trying to steer me away from upsetting topics. “Is that what this is about? Because you’re pregnant?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a stress headache coming on.
“I’ll take a test tonight,” I lie, not wanting to get into this right now.
“Oh, baby, that’s so exciting. I have a feeling you already are. I felt phantom kicks this week.”
I don’t respond. I don’t even know what to say to that. Instead, I do my best to redirect her to the reason for my phone call.
“Can you please just tell me what my father does for work?”
She sighs again, this time in frustration. “Gen?—”
“Please, Mom. I need to know.”
“I have no idea what he’s doing now. I haven’t spoken to him in over twenty years. You know that.”
“What about before? What did he do for work before he left?”
There’s a beat of silence. She must finally hear the desperation in my tone because she eventually says, “He was an HVAC technician.”
My hand tightens around the phone as my gaze drops back to the work order, an icy chill racing down my spine.
It was him. He was standing right in front of me.
And he didn’t say a damn thing.