Chapter 5
MILES
Now that people had gotten word the library was open again, I was in over my head. The borrowing system fought me at every turn. I had no idea what was in the catalogue. I’d never had to recommend a picture book before in my life.
I’d finished my day with a half-eaten candy stuck in my hair and I didn’t even know which one of the toddlers I’d had to wrangle had done it.
In the ten hours the library had been open, I’d applied to fifteen jobs and asked three acquaintances to let me know if they heard about anything.
I was not cut out to be a public librarian.
I missed my quiet stacks. I missed scared undergrads and stressed PhD candidates being the worst thing I had to deal with. I missed having an IT department. I missed not having to wash my hair in the bathroom sink before I left work to get as much spit and sugar out of it as I could.
When I’d first decided I’d walk to the library because it was only fifteen minutes and fresh air was meant to be good for you, I hadn’t taken into account the full-body exhaustion of dealing with the public for ten hours a day.
The walk back felt like a hundred miles over mountainous terrain.
As soon as I got through the door, I stumbled to the couch and flopped down on it.
It took me thirty full seconds to realize it wasn’t the same couch I’d had yesterday, and another ten to notice that I wasn’t alone.
“Hi,” said the broad-chested, manbun-wearing, complete and total stranger in my house, holding a measuring tape with a pencil tucked behind his ear. “I’m Ward.”
“Miles,” I said, the combination of exhaustion and lingering customer service mindset overriding any fear I might’ve felt. “I… you… this is…”
“I was meant to be gone by the time you came back, but this would be a good time to tell me whether you’re more of a walnut or a mahogany kinda guy. We could go darker, I guess, or maybe a bleached oak? I’ve got some great reclaimed redwood, too, so. The choice is yours.” He shrugged.
I blinked at him. I shifted on the absolutely, positively different couch. I blinked again.
“What?”
Ward blinked back at me. “Bookshelves,” he said.
Bookshelves.
Bookshelves?
“Bookshelves?” I repeated aloud, baffled.
Ward paused a second, glanced at the bare wall he’d obviously been measuring up, and then looked at me again. “Seth sent me.”
Seth sent him?
“To build bookshelves for you. Don’t worry, he says it’s part of your sign on bonus.”
Okay, my very tired brain was starting to untangle some of this.
Except I hadn’t complained about the bookshelves to Seth. I’d complained about them to Booker.
Was that just a coincidence?
“Did you also bring the couch?” I asked, sitting up and looking around. “And…”
“Just the coffee table, I had one already made,” Ward said. “If you hate it, you can tell me.”
I looked at the beautifully crafted coffee table sitting between the couch and the fireplace that I’d told myself would need cleaning out and was now sparkling and artfully stacked with logs, then looked at Ward again. “You made that?”
Ward broke into a broad grin. “You like it?”
“I love it,” I said, still marveling at the craftsmanship. It was… possibly walnut, with a delicate inlay in a darker wood that made me think of William Morris prints.
“Great.” Ward kept beaming at me, as though I didn’t look as much like hell as I felt.
“Well, I’ve got measurements and Seth gave me your email.
I’ll send you through the options,” he said.
“And then I can put them in sometime while you’re at work?
Saves you having to live through the noise.
I could do it Thursday, if you let me know tomorrow what you want. ”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an angel?” I asked. I couldn’t believe this man was standing here offering me bookshelves and smiling at me like we were old friends while he did it.
Ward laughed. “My husband has,” he said. “I’ll tell him the new librarian has great taste. You’ll probably meet him soon enough. He’s writing his own romance novel and he’s wanted to work in the library since forever, but it’s been closed. His name’s Ryder.”
“Well,” I said, trying to picture the kind of man who might have been married to someone like Ward and coming up more or less blank. He couldn’t be as much trouble as the toddlers, though. “Tell him he’s welcome. The library is for everyone. It’s just… not especially quiet.”
“He’d like that, he mostly works in the coffee shop or the bar before it gets busy, now,” Ward said with an affectionate little smile playing around his lips. Whoever Ryder was, he was clearly loved.
Was everyone in this town gay? I didn’t think I’d met anyone who I was absolutely sure wasn’t, yet. Including the toddlers.
“I’ll look forward to meeting him,” I said, partly because that was the kind of thing I was supposed to say, partly because I kind of was looking forward to it, now.
Every new person I met in this little town was an experience.
Curiosity was my biggest vice. “And, uh, thank you. I can’t tell you how important my books are. ”
“You’re a librarian,” Ward said, grabbing his things. “I’ve got some idea.”
I walked him to the door just as there was a knock on it.
When I opened it, I found Booker standing on the other side. Holding a rabbit’s foot fern with a yellow bow tied around it.
“So then I ended up giving them the one about the gay penguins at the zoo? Because I remembered Evie mentioning it and I remembered seeing it while I was reshelving stuff. I don’t know anything about children’s literature and it makes up fully half the catalogue,” I explained to Booker’s back as he knelt down in front of my hot water system while I held the flashlight for him.
He chuckled, but it wasn’t a mean chuckle. “It’s a good book.”
“Well, you officially know more about picture books than me. But I should probably stop boring you with work talk.”
“You’re not boring me,” Booker said. “This is where you need to light,” he added, pointing to a spot in the dark before flicking on the long, bendy-necked firelighter he’d arrived with. “If it ever stops again. You wanna do it?”
I laughed nervously. “You’d trust me with lighting a boiler while you’re within explosion distance?”
“Why not? You’re an adult, you’re obviously smart enough to follow basic instructions.”
Oh.
Well, I supposed those things were true.
“Can’t change a tire,” I said.
“Because no one ever taught you,” Booker pointed out.
No judgement, just a statement of fact. “That’s not your fault.
But I’m teaching you this, now. And if it goes out again, you can text me or drop by the bar and tell me about it.
And you’re always welcome to use my shower, but if I show you, you’ll be able to do it yourself. But only if you want to. No pressure.”
I thought about it for a second, gathering my courage. If Booker thought I could do it and he was willing to stand right next to me while I did it, then it had to be okay, right?
Or, I’d die instantly in the resulting explosion and at least I’d never embarrass myself not knowing the first thing about picture books again. So there wasn’t really a downside.
“Okay,” I said, voice almost not shaking at all. “If you trust me.”
“Showers and now minor household maintenance,” Booker said with a laugh. “Not long now until I am trusting you with my life.”
I was pretty sure he was trusting me with his life right now but I didn’t say anything.
Our hands brushed as I traded him flashlight for firelighter.
His were warm and steady, solid in a way that reassured me.
He was solid in a way that reassured me, as though nothing could go terribly wrong while he was there. It was a new feeling for me.
“Flick the lighter on,” he instructed, voice low and mouth close enough to my ear that his breath brushed over my neck, raising the hairs at the back. “And just touch the flame there while you hold down that button.”
His arm brushed against me as he pointed at the button in question. If he was this close, he must really have been confident it’d be fine. I borrowed some of that confidence as I flicked the lighter on and reached for the button.
The whoosh of the pilot light flaring into life made me stumble back, startled. I would have fallen flat on my ass except Booker was still behind me. He caught me one-armed, holding me steady until my feet decided to cooperate and I could stand on my own.
He was just as warm and solid as I’d imagined. For a heartbeat, I wanted to sink back against the warmth of his chest, close my eyes, and let him keep holding me for a while. I hadn’t been hugged in longer than was good for me. I missed being hugged by…
Well. No sense thinking about that now. He was miles away and I wasn’t sure he’d hug me even if was here.
“You did it!” Booked enthused, pride clear in his voice.
Warmth spread in the pit of my stomach. I’d forgotten all about that feeling.
“It wasn’t that hard,” I said, heart still pounding in my ears.
“It wasn’t,” he agreed, a low rumble right next to my ear while he held me steady. “But you did it all the same.”
“I did,” I agreed, wondering how the hell Booker had gotten such a clear read on me so quickly.
He seemed like the type of person who would, though. Evie always knew everything about people from thirty seconds of conversation. They seemed a lot alike.
“You did,” Booker said. I missed the warmth when he eased away, but I liked that he was beaming proudly at me. “Plumbing next, come on.”
I followed him into the house. The next thing I was really aware of after a whirlwind tour of all the broken stuff in the cabin was sprawling out on the comfy, fresh-smelling couch that had magically appeared, staring into the unlit fire, marveling at everything we’d accomplished.
Booker had taught me more about home maintenance in the last hour than I’d learned in the entire rest of my life. I might even have retained some of it.
Beside me, he suddenly chuckled. “Do you know how to light your own fire?” he asked. “Are you cold enough for one?”
I shivered, as though my body had needed a reminder that it was cold in here.
“I wish my sister was here,” I said. “She can set fire to anything.”
Booker laughed again, a low, rich sound that I couldn’t help smiling at. I hadn’t made anyone laugh in a while.
“When she comes to visit, I’m telling her you said that.”
“I dunno if I’ll be around long enough for her to visit. I applied to something like a million jobs today,” I said, and then regretted it as soon as the words were hanging between us. That was the wrong thing to say. It made me sound like an ungrateful asshole.
“That bad?” Booker asked. No judgement, again. I looked over at him, and he had a look on his face that I’d seen a lot lately: talk to me, I’m listening.
I was tired of opening a vein for everyone who asked. They all wanted gossip, to hear about poor Miles’s life blowing up in his face. Booker was different, though. When he offered to listen, it felt like it was for my benefit.
“It’s not… you, or anything,” I said. “You’ve been so nice to me and I don’t entirely understand why. But I don’t belong here. Isn’t that obvious?”
Booker shook his head, brow furrowing. “Not to me,” he said. “You’re no weirder than any of the rest of us.”
I snorted. “Thanks.”
“You know what I mean,” Booker said. “Everyone here’s a little weird. Everyone on the whole planet is a little weird. We just don’t make an effort to hide it here. Where do you belong?”
Where did I belong?
“I don’t know,” I said. What the hell kind of question was that?
I’d brought it up, I supposed. It was a fair question.
I just didn’t have any kind of answer.
Booker hummed. “Well, Seth told me I’m supposed to encourage you to stay.”
“Why?”
I’d only been here three days and none of them had exactly showcased my incredible librarianship skills, which I was beginning to think I didn’t actually have. Maybe my entire career to this point had been a combination of cronyism and being just competent enough to scrape by.
“Because you’re decorative.” Booker grinned at me.
“And because this is the last chance to save the library, and he cares that we’ve got one here.
We all know it’s a hard job to take on. You’re still alive after your first day open, so I think you did okay.
You’re already making friends. Is it so bad? ”
“I’m already making friends?” I asked.
Booker shrugged. “Unless we’re not friends?”
Oh. Right.
“I’d like to be friends,” I admitted. I hadn’t made a friend of my own…
Maybe ever. I’d relied on Evie being a social butterfly and some of her friends apparently kind of liking me as well.
“Friends, then,” Booker said, offering his hand.
I gave him mine, thinking he planned on shaking it. Instead he squeezed it once, firm, then let it go again.
I liked that. I liked that all the way in the pit of my stomach, which was doing happy little backflips at the thought of making a friend.
“So, is there anywhere I can order a pizza from around here?” I asked. “Because it’s my turn to feed you and I have neither groceries nor cooking skills.”
“We can work on that, if you want,” Booker said. “Some other time.”
“I’d like that, but I’d also like to eat today.”
“We’re definitely working on making sure you eat more than once a day,” Booker said, firm this time.
I supposed he was allowed to look out for me. After all, we were friends now.
“And I’ll show you how to light the fire while we wait for pizza,” he added in a tone that didn’t leave any room for argument. “Even if you’re not sticking around, who says you won’t need to know sometime?”
“Do you know you’re a sweetheart?” I asked, smiling at him. I hadn’t felt myself smile in a while, either. Not without forcing it.
“I hear that a lot,” Booker said. “Glad it’s working on you.”