Checked Out – Lena Cove #3
We text each other throughout the day. I meet her and the kids at the park for lunch, and we watch them play.
I meet Rosie, Theo, and Mia’s mom and dad.
Stella is like a member of their family, and I know they’re important to her.
She lives in an apartment above the garage and loves the whole family.
Six weeks after our first “date,” I’m more in love with her than I’ve ever been with anyone in my whole life. We eat at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place, where she steals bites of my pasta and laughs when I pretend to be outraged about it.
A few nights later, I show up at her place with takeout and a stack of old movies.
We sit on her couch, shoulder to shoulder, and by the end of the second film, she’s curled up against me, her breath warm against my neck.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, and she sighs like it’s exactly where she’s meant to be.
From that moment on, we’re inseparable. Thursday night dinners turn into Friday night dates, Saturday morning farmers' market trips, and late-night phone calls that stretch until neither of us can keep our eyes open.
It’s not just dating—it’s being a couple. Existing in each other’s space without forcing it, without questioning it. It’s perfect, but I want more.
One night, we take a long walk through Griffith Park. It’s late, but the city is still glowing beneath us, humming with life. Stella walks beside me, her hand brushing against mine, and I don’t hesitate before lacing our fingers together.
"You ever think about leaving the city?" she asks suddenly, her voice quiet, thoughtful.
I glance at her, surprised. "You trying to get rid of me already?"
She huffs out a laugh. "No, I just mean, do you ever feel like you’re supposed to be doing something more?" She pauses, kicking a loose pebble with the toe of her shoe. "Like maybe you haven’t quite figured out what your real purpose is yet?"
I let out a slow breath. "Yeah. I think about it all the time."
Her eyes flick to mine, curious. "You do?"
"Of course, I love my job. I love working at the library. But sometimes I wonder if I should be doing something more significant. Maybe teaching, maybe writing... I'm not sure. Something that leaves a more lasting impact."
She squeezes my hand. "You already do. You don’t realize how many kids look forward to your Storytime. How many of them probably go home and beg their parents to read because of you? That’s a mark, Holden. That’s impact."
Her words settle deep inside me, somewhere warm, somewhere permanent.
"You’re really something?" I murmur, tugging her closer.
She smirks. "Tell me something I don’t know."
I chuckle, brushing a kiss against her temple, breathing her in. "How about this? I’m crazy about you, Stella Vale."
She stills for half a second before tilting her head up to meet my gaze. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just the truth.
She grins as I kiss her under the glow of the city lights. It’s another wonderful moment with the love of my life.
STELLA
Holden is ridiculously good with the kids. He already had them wrapped around his finger at Storytime, but now that we’re officially dating? It’s even more heart-melting.
Theo worships him, always begging to sit on his shoulders.
Rosie treats him like her personal Prince Charming, looping her little hand in his and dramatically sighing that she’s "So lucky" to know a real gentleman.” Even Mia, who is normally suspicious of strangers, reaches for him whenever he’s near.
And me? I’m falling. Hard.
It terrifies me, this feeling that keeps creeping in, threatening to take over. I’ve had relationships before, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels so easy, so right.
Holden fits into my life like he was always meant to be there. That should be a good thing, but the truth is it scares the hell out of me.
I try not to think about it too much. I let myself exist in the moments, let myself enjoy what we have. Because when I’m with him, really with him, nothing else matters.
Tonight, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to second-guess. I just want him.
We’re at my apartment after another perfect date—dinner, laughter, relaxed conversation that stretches long into the night. The lights are dim, the air between us thick with something we’ve been ignoring for weeks.
He’s standing close, so close, his hands resting on my waist, his thumbs drawing slow circles through the fabric of my dress. "Stella," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Tell me to go, and I will."
I don’t tell him to go. Instead, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down into a kiss.
It starts slow, teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way. Because the second his tongue sweeps against mine, the second he groans into my mouth, I need more. I press closer, my fingers slipping beneath his shirt, ready to feel warm skin and muscle.
I pull back and help him remove his shirt, revealing a sprawling tattoo that snakes over his ribs and up his side, curling over his shoulder. It’s intricate, dark lines forming a stunning piece of art. I blink up at him. "You have tattoos?"
Holden smirks, his voice teasing but a little breathless. "Did you not think librarians can have some ink?"
"I just…” I run my fingers over the design, tracing the patterns, feeling his muscles tighten under my touch. "I didn’t see this coming."
His smile falters slightly, something heated flickering in his eyes. "Still want me?"
Instead of answering, I drag my nails lightly down his stomach, watching the way his abs flex in response. "More than ever."
He groans, and we’re stumbling backward, bumping into furniture, neither of us willing to break apart.
By the time we make it to my bedroom, my dress is on the floor, his shirt is tossed somewhere behind him, and I’m dizzy from the way he’s kissing me, from the way he’s looking at me like I’m something precious, something he can’t believe he’s finally allowed to touch.
He lifts me easily, pressing me against the wall, his mouth tracing a line from my jaw down my throat. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmurs against my skin.
"Then stop talking," I whisper, dragging his belt free, slipping my hand into his jeans. “Take me to bed."
Holden curses under his breath, and we fall onto the mattress together, hands and mouths desperate, needy.
He takes his time exploring me, his fingers teasing, his tongue sinful, until I’m gasping his name like a prayer.
When he finally moves over me, sinking deep, stretching me in the most devastating way, I arch into him, nails biting into his back.
"Stella," he groans, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath ragged. "Tell me you’re mine."
“I’m yours," I whisper, my body clenching around him. "Always."
We move together, the world falling away, nothing existing except the heat, the tension, the overwhelming right of it all. His hands grip my thighs, angling me just right, hitting exactly where I need him.
He moves slowly. I feel everything. For the first time in my life, I feel safe in someone’s arms. I’m finally where I belong.
HOLDEN
I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve had crushes, sure. Infatuations, too. These feelings sit on my chest, making breathing impossible when she’s not around. Every second with her feels real, like something I could build my life around. She’s exactly what I want.
She’s my person. The one I think about first thing in the morning and the one I can’t fall asleep without picturing at night.
I want all of her. I want a future with her—one where we don’t just steal time between work and other obligations.
One where we wake up together every morning, where we make breakfast and argue over what movie to watch, where she rolls her eyes at me when I leave my books all over the apartment.
I want her in my life in a way that’s permanent. Forever.
It’s a slow afternoon at the library, the lull between the morning rush and the after-school wave. I’m shelving returns when my coworker, Evan, drops onto the step stool beside me with a heavy sigh. He looks exhausted.
"Man, relationships are exhausting," he groans, rubbing a hand over his face.
I glance over, raising a brow. "That bad?"
He nods, leaning back against the shelves. "She wants kids. I don’t. It’s a whole thing. We keep dancing around it, but I know it’s not going to work out. We want different things."
I hum in understanding, sliding another book into place. "That’s a tough one." I exhale, thinking out loud. "It’s hard when one person wants a family and the other doesn’t."
The words are casual, tossed into the space between us. Just an observation, a neutral comment about relationships in general. It’s not about me. Not about Stella, except I don’t realize I’ve said them loud enough for her to hear.
I don’t realize she’s right there, standing at the end of the aisle, holding one of Mia’s board books, ready to return it to the bin.
I don’t realize what she must be thinking until I catch sight of her face— pale, still, guarded— right before she turns on her heel, walks away, and my stomach drops.
I don’t immediately chase after her. I don’t think I even fully process what just happened in time to stop her. It’s not until later, when I text her that night and get nothing back, when I call, and it rings until voicemail, that the panic sets in.
I sit on my couch, phone in hand, replaying every second of that moment in the library, going over it again and again, trying to figure out where it went wrong.
STELLA
I won’t cry. I’m not going to let myself start because if I do…I might never stop. Instead, I do the only thing I know how to do when I’m hurt. I shut down. I ignore the ache in my chest, I bury the lump in my throat, and I disappear before he can break my heart any more than he already has.