Chapter 4
Rachel
Rachel stared at the library door Mac had just stumbled through, her pulse doing things it had no business doing.
She'd said yes.
To a hockey player.
To a date.
She'd only been in Evergreen Cove for six months.
Six months of keeping her head down, of building a quiet life in a town where nobody knew her story.
Six months of carefully constructed distance from everything she'd left behind; the humiliation, the whispers, the pitying looks.
She'd come here to disappear, to start over, to be someone new.
The library job was perfect for that.
The tiny apartment with Mr. Darcy. The weekly sessions with Dr. Reyes that had slowly helped her understand that what happened with her ex, Brad, wasn't her fault, even if she still struggled to believe it most days.
And after all that time of saying no to everyone, of keeping herself carefully closed off, of swearing she'd never make the same mistakes again, she'd said yes to Ryan 'Mac' MacKenzie.
What was I thinking?
Her hands shook slightly as she reached for the absurdly large bouquet, adjusting the flowers in their makeshift vase.
Tulips, daisies, roses in soft pinks and yellows and reds.
And sunflowers, lots of them. The arrangement probably cost more than her weekly grocery budget.
It was excessive and ridiculous and somehow…
very him. The stems were still damp from Sophie's cooler, the petals fresh and soft under her fingertips.
And Mac had been... adorable. There was no other word for it.
Cute and nervous and so flustered that Rachel had almost smiled despite her carefully maintained demeanor.
His sandy blonde hair had been slightly damp, probably from a post-practice shower, and his green eyes had been wide with panic and hope in equal measure.
"You're beautiful and I wanted to ask you out."
No one had called her beautiful in a long time. Not since—
Rachel shook her head, refusing to go down that path. Not yet. Not while she was still processing what had happened. Not while her heart was still racing and her hands were still trembling and she could still smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the flowers.
"Was that the MacKenzie boy I saw leaving?"
Rachel looked up to find Mrs. Henderson entering and approaching the circulation desk, her arms full of romance novels, her usual Thursday selection.
At seventy-three, Mrs. Henderson was the library's most devoted patron, most observant gossip, and had impeccable timing that Rachel sometimes suspected was supernatural.
Rachel forced her expression into neutrality, though she suspected Mrs. Henderson could see right through it. "Yes, Mrs. Henderson. Just dropping off flowers."
"Very large flowers." Mrs. Henderson's eyes sparkled with delight as she set down her stack of books with a soft thump. "Quite the bouquet for 'just dropping off.'"
"He's... enthusiastic."
"He asked you out, didn't he?" Mrs. Henderson leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice despite the empty library. "And you said yes! Oh, Rachel, that's wonderful!"
"How did you—"
"Dear, I was in the romance section. Those shelves have excellent acoustics, I've been meaning to mention that to the library board." Mrs. Henderson's smile was slightly mischievous. "I heard everything. That boy is absolutely smitten with you."
Heat crept up her neck, spreading to her cheeks. "He's very... forward."
"He's very sweet." Mrs. Henderson paused. "So why do you look absolutely terrified?"
Rachel's fingers stilled on the flowers. Because twelve months wasn't long enough to forget how badly this could end.
"I just..." Rachel started, then stopped, unsure how much to reveal. Mrs. Henderson didn't know her story. Nobody in Evergreen Cove did, and that was exactly how Rachel wanted to keep it. "Dating is complicated."
"Dating is always complicated, dear. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth doing." Mrs. Henderson tilted her head. "You've been in Evergreen Cove for six months now, and in all that time, I've never seen you say yes to anyone. And believe me, there have been plenty of young men who've tried."
Rachel hadn't realized people had been keeping track. Then again, this was a small town. Of course they'd been keeping track. Or at least Mrs. Henderson had.
"Mac MacKenzie is a good man," Mrs. Henderson continued. "Anyone with eyes can see that. He's been looking at you like you hung the moon for weeks now."
Rachel's breath caught. "He has?"
"Every time he comes in here. Which is often, by the way. For a man who claimed he wanted mystery novels, he certainly seems to spend a lot of time browsing near the circulation desk. Last week he checked out three Agatha Christies and returned them the next day."
Rachel hadn't realized Mac came in that regularly.
She'd noticed him a few times, hard not to notice him, with his sandy blonde hair and easy smile.
But she'd been deliberately not paying attention, keeping herself safely distant from anything that might threaten the walls she'd built around her heart.
"What if this is a mistake?" Rachel asked before she could stop herself.
"Then it's a mistake, dear. But what if it's not?
" She picked up her books, then paused. "I don't know what happened before you came to Evergreen, Rachel.
And I won't pry, that's your story to tell or not tell as you choose.
But I do know this: you can't let your past stop you from having a future.
Give yourself permission to find out what might happen.
You've been hiding in this library for six months. Maybe it's time to take a chance."
The afternoon dragged. Rachel tried to focus on her job, cataloging new arrivals, helping patrons find books, answering the endless stream of questions about printer codes and library card renewals, but her mind kept drifting to Mac.
"I'm very nice. Especially me. I'm very nice."
To the way he'd tripped over that chair and knocked down half the mystery section, scrambling to pick up the books with his cheeks flaming red.
Rachel was shelving returns in the biography section, the quiet afternoon punctuated only by the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the old building settling, when a book spine caught her eye.
The Perfect Engagement: A Wedding Planner's Memoir
The cover showed a glossy photograph of a country club terrace at sunset, fairy lights strung between marble columns, champagne glasses catching the golden light.
Rachel’s hands stilled on the cart as the memory hit her. Sharp and unwelcome, like always.
A year ago.
The Riverside Country Club back home in Burlington.
Brad’s family had made it clear from the beginning that she wasn’t quite good enough.
Not wealthy enough. Not connected enough.
Not from the right background. His mother had smiled through every criticism, gentle suggestions about dresses, about posture, about how things were done in their world.
His father had barely acknowledged Rachel at all, as if ignoring her might make the mismatch disappear.
And Derek; Brad’s mentor, the man Brad admired more than his own father, had watched it all with that same knowing smirk. Rachel could still see him that night, leaning against the bar, arms crossed, saying nothing. Doing nothing. As if he’d known exactly how the evening would end.
Rachel shook her head now, but the memory rolled on anyway.
She’d stood in a white cocktail dress; not a wedding dress, just an engagement party, but she’d wanted to look special.
The dress had cost more than she could afford, but Brad’s mother had insisted the party be formal.
Fairy lights twinkled overhead, reflecting off champagne glasses.
A string quartet played softly in the corner.
Two hundred people, friends, family, Brad’s teammates, half the town, had gathered to celebrate their upcoming wedding.
Rachel had thought her life was absolutely perfect. Well almost.
Brad Reese, her fiancé. Minor league hockey player with dreams of the NHL. The man she thought she’d spend her life with.
When he stood to make a toast, Rachel had expected romance. Poetry. Something tender and public and reassuring. She smiled up at him, her hand resting on his arm.
“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight,” Brad began, his voice carrying easily across the room.
Then—
“Rachel, you’ve been… you’ve been really great. You have.” A pause. Too long. Wrong. “But I can’t do this.”
The smile froze on her face.
“I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.” His tone was steady, almost casual, like he was announcing a change in dinner plans instead of ending their engagement.
“This isn’t going to work. We’re not… compatible.
You want different things from life. You’re more…
quiet. And I need to move in a different direction. ”
Quiet.
Rachel remembered the silence that followed—how complete it was, how it pressed against her ears. Phones came out. Someone gasped.
“Brad—” she whispered, barely audible. “What are you—”
He was already setting the microphone down. Already walking away from the head table.
From her.
Her white dress suddenly felt like a spotlight. Her skin burned as two hundred people stared. She could see Brad’s mother watching her with something like relief. His father turned away. Derek didn’t even look surprised. He just smirked, as if this had always been inevitable.
Rachel ran.
She grabbed her clutch and fled the ballroom, heels clicking wildly against marble, vision blurring with tears. Behind her, the whispers bloomed.
“Poor Rachel.”
“Can you imagine? In front of everyone?”
“She should’ve seen it coming.”
“They were never really suited…”
She stood outside the ballroom, frozen, unable to breathe, drowning in pity and curiosity and judgment. Poor Rachel. The safe one. The quiet one. The girl who wasn’t exciting enough to keep her fiancé.
Sarah was the first to find her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Then people started moving toward her, drawn by spectacle. It was terrifying. Leah appeared next, sharp and fierce, telling everyone to back off, to give Rachel space.
Rachel cried in the ladies’ room for an hour while Sarah held her hand, brought her water and tissues, whispered that Brad was an idiot. That Rachel was better off. That it wasn’t her fault.
But the words had already taken root.
Safe.
Quiet.
Predictable.
Boring.
And the next day, she'd had to face everyone; The pity, the questions, the whispers that followed her everywhere. "That's the girl who got dumped at her own engagement party." "Brad Reese's ex-fiancée." "Little Rachel, she never saw it coming."
For six months, she'd endured it. Six months of being "poor Rachel" everywhere she went.
Six months of pitying looks at the grocery store, awkward silences at the coffee shop, well-meaning friends trying to set her up with their cousins.
Six months of living in a town where everyone knew her story, where she couldn't escape the humiliation.
That's when she'd seen the job posting for Evergreen Cove Library. A small town four hours away where nobody knew her name, nobody knew her story, nobody would look at her with pity or curiosity or judgment.
She'd applied that night. Accepted the job two weeks later. Packed her life into boxes and moved without looking back.
Rachel blinked, finding herself gripping a biography of Theodore Roosevelt hard enough to wrinkle the dust jacket. She carefully smoothed it and returned it to the shelf with shaking hands.
That was all one year ago. Now she'd created a safe, predictable routine that couldn't hurt her. Library by day, books and her cat by night. No dating and no risks. But safe and predictable also meant lonely.
And Mac MacKenzie, with his too-many flowers and genuine smile, was offering something different. Something that scared her down to her bones.
Rachel made a mental note to bring this up with Dr. Reyes at their next session. Her new therapist in Evergreen had been gently pushing her to be open to new relationships for months now. "Not everyone is Brad," Dr. Reyes always said. "But you won't know that until you let someone prove it."
Maybe this was her chance to find out.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump. She pulled it out to find a text from Sophie Parker.
Sophie: Heard you have a date tomorrow. FINALLY.
Rachel couldn't help but smile even as anxiety twisted in her stomach.
Rachel: How does everyone know already?
Sophie: Small town. Ellie called me. Mac called Cole. Cole told Ellie. Ellie told me. Also Mrs. Henderson texted me from the library about thirty seconds ago.
Rachel: Of course she did.
Sophie: She used three exclamation points and a heart emoji. Mrs. Henderson learned emojis for this.
Rachel: I'm never going to hear the end of this.
Sophie: Not even a little bit. So? Are you freaking out?
Rachel: Completely.
Sophie: Want to come to the café after work? We'll talk through it.
Rachel: Yes please.
Sophie: Good. 6 PM. I'll have lattes waiting. And we're going shopping after. Non-negotiable.
Rachel: Sophie, no!
Sophie: You need a date outfit. See you at 6.