Chapter 8 #2
Her eyes still burned, but the rest of her deflated enough for him to push. “Please, Daphne. Just let me explain.”
She looked away for a moment, licked her lips in a way that made his mouth water, and shrugged. “Go ahead. Fast, because I have to go open up.”
“I couldn’t tell you what I was or what I was doing. Literally. The Dreamscape has a rule against us keeping our identity secret. Something about messing with the dreams and stuff.”
“Like a secret agent?”
The knot in his throat loosened. “Exactly like that.”
“Then how come are you telling me this now?”
“Because I fell in love with you, and the Dreamscape, for as much as a pain in my ass that is, understands a couple of things.” There.
It was out. And it was not the entire deal, but he didn’t want to add the bond yet.
He wanted her to forgive him, want him, to love him, because of him, not because of anything else.
So, yeah, another half-truth. But doing whole truths was hard, man, and this was heartfelt.
How was his declaration received? Daphne’s head snapped back, and she leaned against the wall, her brown eyes huge. It looked more like he’d just hit her with a brick, so far away from the throwing-herself-in-his-arms scene he’d envisioned that it was almost rude.
Fine.
“I was supposed to see what was wrong with your nightmares. Nothing else.” He shrugged. “I think I fell for you the first time you threatened to punch me.”
“But... how.... Why?”
“Now, Daphne, come on. That’s a dumb question.
I’m in love with you because you didn’t need me.
Don’t need me. You have yourself, your pain, your damn spine of steel.
And somehow, you still let me in. Because you’re whole in spite of what life threw at you.
Messed up, yeah, but grounded. And all that shit didn’t make you bitter.
It made you generous, it made you into someone who built a safe space for anyone to breathe, making their life better one book at a time.
You know your worth, and you still let me close.
You called me on my shit over and over, and it made me want to be better so I could deserve you.
” He realized he had gotten very heated as he was explaining the simplest thing in the world, and he settled.
He cleared his voice. “That’s why.” He frowned. “And you’re also hot. Scorching.”
Fuck me. Hunter watched as she looked away again, then back at him, and by the gods, her eyes were gleaming. Hope felt so fucking good...
She cleared her voice. “Is there more?”
“Do you have a few days off?”
She rolled those gleaming eyes. “I’m going to work now.” She secured her purse on her shoulder. “Be here when I’m done. We’ll talk then.”
Hunter fist pumped the air and dropped to sit on the ground in front of her door. “My ass will be right here.”
~*~
Was she really going to forgive him? How many kinds of stupid could one woman be?
He’d lied to her.
Because he had to.
Maybe that was a lie, too.
No, it was not.
She dropped her purse and coat in the little office at the library, turned on the coffee machine, and walked back to the front desk.
Okay, maybe he was not lying now. Then what?
Talk to him. Tell him he hurt you because he’s the only person you want to trust. Tell him you’re a complete idiot because even though he was an ass, she loved him too.
She dropped into the office chair, the movement so heavy she rolled back and hit the wall.
She’d caught feelings a time or two in her life. She knew how it was.
This was a shit ton worse.
She could feel it, crawling under her skin like a whisper, humming at the corners of her thoughts. That tug. That damn pull. Like part of her was always tuned to him now, even when she didn’t want to be.
You want to be.
Yeah, okay, her stupid conscience could go take a hike right about now.
In the quiet of the still-empty library, the coffee machine bleep reached her, and she went to fill a cup.
So. This is what she would do: she would work, because it soothed her nerves.
There was the New Year display to set up.
New Year, New You was the obvious angle, and she would abide by it, but she wasn’t going to dismiss the fact that the holidays could be brutal.
Too quiet in some places, too loud in others.
She knew. And so, she’d make sure the display had hope in it.
Not forced cheers or empty resolutions wrapped in guilt, but a reminder to those who needed it that they made it to today, and it was enough for now.
She wandered the aisles, pulling titles that would give that gift. Wintering. The Book of Delights. Tiny Beautiful Things. A well-loved copy of The House in the Cerulean Sea, soft around the edges. And a few slow-burn romances, where people were allowed to fall apart and still find love waiting.
Talking about lessons to be learned.
She wheeled the cart to the display section, started arranging the books, her focus only on that job.
By the time she stepped back, the table was a little crooked, one sign curling at the edge, but it was full of stories that carried gentle hope.
It was almost lunchtime by the time she was done.
Perfect. She would take the break, then catalog the big pile of books donated at Christmas. And when she was done there–
Shouts and horns from the street boomed inside, and the commotion was loud enough to make her walk out to check.
A boy of maybe five stood near the crosswalk closest to the library building, holding a blue stuffed shark by the tail. His little body swayed, like he was listening to music no one else could hear. He looked around him, giggling faintly, as if something unseen were circling him.
Daphne started running the second his sneakered foot stepped off the curb while the traffic light was still green for the cars.
“Hey! Hey–wait!”
Her boots hit the pavement hard, and she was flying to him.
She snatched his hand, yanking him back with a speed she didn’t know she had.
A cold shiver buzzed down her back when he looked up at her.
His green eyes were too wide and glassy.
He had the sweetest smile–and whispered in a wheezing voice, “We know what you are.”
She froze for a heartbeat. Gritted her teeth. Hauled him back fully onto the sidewalk.
An ambulance sped past, sirens cutting through the quiet of midday. She frowned, her pulse still climbing. This was so not good.
“Hi,” the boy said brightly, in a voice too normal for what had just happened. Whatever he’d just experienced, whatever had spoken through him, was gone now. His face was all softness and innocence.
She swallowed and forced a smile. “Hello there.”
“You’re the books lady.”
She crouched to his level. “I am.”
“My mom take me there every hundred days,” he declared proudly, pointing toward the library with his stuffed shark dangling from his arm like a sidekick. “I’m Noah.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I’m five.”
“Hi Noah, I’m Daphne. Do you know where your mom is?”
It was obviously the wrong questions. He looked around, searching for her. When he didn’t see her, his smile dropped, his bottom lip trembled, and his eyes filled with sudden tears. “No.”
Daphne pulled him gently into a hug, stroking his back, trying not to let him feel the shaking in her own spine. “You’re being very brave, Noah. You know what we’ll do?”
He shook his head and smeared tears on his face with the shark’s fuzzed fin.
“We’ll go inside where it’s warm, see if I’ve got some snacks, and call the sheriff so he can help us. What do you think?”
“‘Kay,” he whispered.
They were halfway across the pavement when Daphne caught sight of a man sprinting down the other side of the street, barefoot, shirtless, yelling unintelligible words into the sky. He stumbled, fell, got up, and ran like something was chasing him.
She didn’t wait to find out what came next.
She scooped Noah up, clutching him close, and hurried through the library doors.
Inside, she settled him on the little couch in the children’s section, tucked a Christmas story into his lap, and opened a juice box with fingers that wouldn’t quite stop shaking.
Then she picked up the phone and called the sheriff’s department.
Harper picked up. “Sheriff’s office, Deputy Walsh speaking. ”
“Hey, it’s Daphne.”
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I’ve got a lost child with me. Noah, five years old.”
There was a brief rustle of paper on the other end, then Harper’s voice shifted into full deputy mode. “Okay. Is he hurt?”
“No. Just scared. Says he doesn’t know where his mom is.” Daphne’s eyes flicked toward the wall where shadows stretched too long. “And, um, there was a man running down the street, screaming. Barefoot.”
A pause. Longer than it should’ve been. “Right,” Harper said. “I’m heading over now, and I’ll loop the Sheriff in on the way.”
“Thank you, Harp.”
The moment she hung up, the lights flickered.
The shadows twitched.
She stood perfectly still, her hand still holding the phone, sweat cold against her neck.
This wasn’t just odd.
This was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
She went back to Noah and sat with him. She put everything she had into making him smile. And was successful.
Until a man hit the huge window of the library.
Hard enough to make the glass wall tremble. His face slammed with a sickening thud and left a smear of saliva and blood as he fell backward out of sight. Daphne jumped, heart in her throat, just as Noah gave a little gasp before starting to cry again. The book they were reading fell on the floor.