3. Brooke
Chapter 3
Brooke
T he library is empty now, the last student is gone and the doors are locked for the weekend. I breathe out a long, slow sigh, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones. The silence is heavy but comforting, a quiet that contrasts with the buzz of excitement I felt earlier with the kids and the busy shuffle of the day.
I glance at the clock—a little after six. A flutter of anticipation stirs in my chest, a welcome change from the steady tension that’s gripped me since that email arrived yesterday. Tonight isn’t about secrets or stress; it’s about friends, drinks, laughter, and unwinding with Charlie and Kendall.
I tuck my planner away in the bottom of my satchel. My fingers linger on the cover for a moment, hiding it under some new books I need to read over the weekend for work, a symbolic gesture to compartmentalize my life—Brooke Edwards, dependable librarian, and Sophie Quinn, the hidden, bestselling author of romances that would make most, if not all, of Hibiscus Harbor blush.
“Time to go,” I whisper, straightening up and grabbing my purse from the hook behind the desk. I adjust my hair in the reflection of the library window, pulling a few stray strands back into the messy bun that’s barely holding together. There’s no time to fix it. I flip off the lights, casting the library in shadows, and head out, locking the door behind me.
As I step outside the school, the warm autumn air hits me, wrapping me in the lingering scent of salt and jasmine that always seems to drift off the ocean this time of day. When I arrive at Hooplas, the low hum of conversation and music filters through the open doors, mingling with the faint aroma of food and beer. The environment wraps around me, a pleasant contrast to the silence of the library, and I feel my shoulders relax for the first time all day.
Charlie and Kendall are already in a corner booth, heads together in animated conversation and it makes me laugh imagining what story they’re telling. Charlie waves wildly when she spots me, and I can't help but grin as I weave my way through the crowded tables toward them.
“Brooke! You’re here!” Charlie practically pulls me into the booth the second I’m within reach. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I settle in, reaching for the glass of white wine she’s already ordered for me. The cool glass is a welcome sensation against my fingers.
“Rough day?” Kendall asks, raising an eyebrow as she pushes a basket of sweet potato fries toward me.
I shrug, sipping the wine and letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. “Same as always—kids, chaos, and books. But I’m here now, and I’m not thinking about any of that.”
“Good!” Charlie beams, practically vibrating with excitement. “Because I have to tell you both about this new author I’m obsessed with.”
“Oh?” I lean back, reaching for a fry. “Who is it this time? Another moody detective series or is it the new Delta James paranormal book about cowboy shifters?”
“Nope! I’ve read all of her books already and loved them.” Charlie’s grin widens, and she digs into her oversized tote bag, pulling out a paperback. “Nope. This one is in a different genre. Steamy romance and her name’s Sophie Quinn, and I swear, her books are the best thing I’ve read in forever. They’re h-o-t , but with so much heart! I’m telling you, Brooke, you’ll definitely love them.”
The fry stops halfway to my mouth. My heart lurches in my chest, and I force a smile, even though my pulse is racing. “Sophie Quinn?” I repeat, praying my voice sounds normal. “I think I’ve...heard of her.” Oh, I’ve heard of her.
Charlie doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort. She’s too caught up in her excitement. “Oh my god, you have to read this one,” she says, thrusting the well-worn book toward me. “It’s got everything—romance, danger, passion…sex…and her characters are so real, you know?”
“I’ve heard of her, too,” Kendall chimes in, leaning closer with a grin. “Actually, I’m reading her latest one right now.” She pulls out her e-reader and scrolls to the cover. “See? ‘Sizzling Desires’—it’s incredible.”
I can barely breathe. They’re both staring at me expectantly, and I have to say something, so I plaster on a smile and take a sip of wine, hoping it will cool the heat rising in my cheeks. “Wow, sounds...intense,” I manage. “What’s it about?”
Charlie’s face lights up. “Oh, it’s about this woman who’s hiding a secret?—”
I nearly choke on my wine. “A secret?” I interrupt, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yes! It’s so good,” Kendall says, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “She’s got this double life, and there’s a super-hot guy who starts to unravel her secrets, and it’s all set here in Florida. I even read on some blog that Sophie Quinn lives around here. Can you imagine? A romance author hiding out in Hibiscus Harbor.”
I force a laugh, though my hands are trembling. “That’s...really cool. Maybe she’s just a good observer. ”
“Or maybe she’s one of us!” Charlie says, winking as she takes a sip of her margarita. “I bet she’s sitting in a corner of some coffee shop, typing away and watching everyone around her.”
“Oh, definitely,” Kendall agrees. “There’s something about her writing that feels so...authentic. Like she knows the area. It’s one of the reasons why I love her books so much. She captures the local vibe perfectly…not to mention the hot men.” She waves her hand in front of her face like a fan.
I nod and smile, trying to keep my breathing even. Every word feels like a spotlight shining right on me, exposing my secret I’ve managed to keep so carefully hidden for so long. They’re right, though, I do write in coffee shops. I do watch the people around me.
“Have you read any of her books, Brooke?” Charlie asks, turning those curious eyes on me.
I freeze, my mind going blank. “I...uh, no. Not really my thing, you know? I’m more into historical fiction.”
“Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Charlie says with a laugh, waving the book at me again. “I’ll lend it to you. You’ll be hooked, I swear.”
“That’s...okay,” I say, my voice a little too high. “I’m swamped with reading for work right now, but I’ll keep it in mind when I’m ready to go back to reading for enjoyment and not work.”
Charlie gives me a curious look, but Kendall jumps in. “Maybe she’s not into steamy romances, Charlie. Some people just aren’t.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Charlie says, shrugging as she slides the book back into her bag. “But you’re missing out!”
I breathe a silent sigh of relief and reach for another fry, trying to ignore the way my stomach is churning. They talk about other books they’ve read, other authors they love, and I nod along, offering comments when I can, but the whole time, my mind is racing. It just never occurred to me that my friends – people I know – would also be reading my books and want to talk to me about it. I suppose I need to remember that for the next time anyone brings up my books to me. Ugh. With some of the things I’ve written, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to talk to people I know about those parts. It’ll be weird. So weird.
Hours pass in a blur of conversation and laughter. I manage to keep the focus off Sophie Quinn, redirecting them to other favorite authors and our usual catch-up on work gossip. Eventually, Charlie and Kendall decide to call it a night, hugging me goodbye as they head out, still animatedly discussing plot twists as they walk out.
I stay behind, letting out a long breath as I sink back into the booth. My nerves are shot, and my wine glass is empty. “One more,” I murmur, sliding off the bench and moving myself to the bar. I order a burger and another glass of wine, hoping to decompress for a few more minutes before heading home.
Just as I’m about to take the first bite of my burger, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. “Excuse me,” a deep voice says. “I think you’re eating my dinner.”
I look up, startled, into the face of a tall, broad-shouldered man with a teasing smile. His eyes are a warm, dark brown color, and they crinkle at the corners when he grins.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I stammer, feeling my cheeks go pink. “The bartender said it had been sitting here for a while with no owner, and I was starving, and it looked so good…” I ramble on like an idiot.
He points at the plate in front of me. “I ordered a burger, but it seems to have found its way to you instead.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I repeat as I put the uneaten burger back down on the plate and push it over to him.
He laughs, holding up a hand to stop me. “Hey, don’t worry about it. How about this—we share it? Can’t have you starving to death, now, can we? I’m Trevor, by the way.”
I blink at him, caught off guard. “Share?”
“Yeah,” he says, sliding onto the stool next to me without waiting for an answer.
“I’m Brooke,” I say, feeling a little flustered but smiling back. “And I’d love to share. It’s the least I can do for snatching your food.”
We split the burger and fries, pushing the plate back and forth as we trade bites, laughing over who gets the last of the fries. Trevor orders another round of drinks, and the tension that’s been gnawing at my chest all day begins to fade, replaced by the easy rhythm of conversation.
“So,” Trevor says, leaning forward slightly, his fingers brushing mine as he reaches for the ketchup. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an elementary school librarian.” I tell him proudly.
“What’s it like working at the library? I imagine it’s all quiet reading and shushing people.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, not at all. That’s the biggest misconception people have. It’s actually pretty chaotic, especially when kids are involved. You’d be surprised how loud a group of six-year-olds can get when they’re excited about storytime.”
He grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What kind of stories are you reading to them?”
“Everything, really,” I say, dipping a fry into ketchup. “Dragons, fairies, space adventures, you name it. Today, I had to read about a talking dog who solves mysteries. The kids loved it, of course. One boy even asked me if my cat at home could talk.”
Trevor chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Did you tell him yes?”
“No, but I said if my cat could talk, he’d probably tell me to get out of his chair and stop invading his space,” I reply with a grin.
“Smart cat,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “Sounds like he knows what he wants.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a bit spoiled,” I admit. “But he’s great company when I’m home writing—uh, reading, I mean.”
“Writing, huh?” Trevor leans back slightly, giving me a curious look. “Do you write, too?”
My heart skips a beat, and I force a casual smile, quickly backtracking. “Oh, just... you know, library reports, newsletters, that sort of thing.”
He nods, accepting my vague answer, and thankfully doesn’t push it. “So, if you’re not shushing people all day, what’s your favorite part of the job?”
“Hmmm...” I take a moment to think, leaning back in my seat. “I’d say it’s when a kid finds a book they really love. You can see it in their eyes, you know? Like today, this shy little girl came in looking for a book about a dragon princess. She barely said a word, but when she found it, her whole face just lit up. Those moments make everything worth it.”
Trevor’s expression softens, and he gives me a warm smile. “That’s...really nice. Sounds like you’re making a difference.”
“I hope so,” I say, feeling a flutter of warmth at his words. “What about you? What do you do?”
I watch him take a swig of his beer, “I’m a trauma surgeon at the hospital.”
Completely impressed and surprised by his answer, “Wow. Being a trauma surgeon sounds intense.”
He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, it definitely is. It’s a lot of pressure—long hours, tough cases—but it’s rewarding in its own way. When I work at the hospital, some days it feels like the entire town passes through those doors.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I say, genuinely impressed. “What’s it like... you know, dealing with emergencies every day? ”
He leans forward a little, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s hard to describe. There’s a rush of adrenaline when someone comes in, and you know they’re counting on you to keep them alive. It’s chaotic, sure, but there’s this... clarity that comes with it. You focus on the patient, and everything else fades away.”
“Wow,” I say softly, taken aback by his sincerity. “It sounds... stressful. You must see some pretty awful things.”
“Yeah, sometimes,” he admits, a shadow crossing his face for a brief moment. “But I try to focus on the successes. On the moments when you know you’ve made a difference, when you look at someone’s family and tell them their family member is going to be okay. Those are the moments that make it all worthwhile.”
I nod, feeling a strange sense of connection to him. In a way, we both deal with chaos—mine just happens to involve excited little kids and overdue books instead of the life-or-death situations Trevor deals with. “You must be exhausted all the time.”
“I’m used to it,” he says with a smile. “But enough about me. Tell me more about the library. Do you ever get any weird requests?”
I laugh, grateful for the shift back to lighter topics. “Oh, all the time. Last month, a kid asked me if we had a ‘how to train your dragon manual. He thought he’d actually get a pet dragon if he found the right book.”
Trevor chuckles, his eyes lighting up. “Did you manage to find one?”
“I had to improvise,” I say, grinning. “I found a book about lizards and told him it was the next best thing.”
“Good save,” he says, raising his glass. “To creative librarians who save the day.”
“To trauma surgeons who do the same,” I reply, clinking my glass with his.
“So,” he says, leaning forward a little with a curious smile. “ What’s a librarian like you doing eating a lonely burger at the bar on a Friday night?”
I laugh, though my heart does a little flip at the warmth in his gaze. “Oh, you know. Escaping the chaos of storytime and kids’ questions about dragons and dinosaurs.”
“Ah,” he says, nodding knowingly. “A well-earned break, then.”
“Definitely,” I say, feeling a lightness in my chest that I haven’t felt in a while. “What about you? What’s a guy like you doing claiming random burgers?”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “I’d say it’s fate. Besides, it got me talking to a beautiful woman, so I’d call it a win.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Smooth.”
“I try,” he says, grinning. “And you know what? You’re pretty good company, too.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, suddenly feeling like I’m living one of Sophie’s stories—a chance encounter, a spark of connection, and the thrill of something new. It’s almost too perfect.
We both laugh, and as the conversation continues, I find myself relaxing more and more. It’s easy talking to Trevor—easier than I expected. I tell him about some of the more ridiculous library stories, like the time a kid tried to check in a pet turtle he found in the park, and he tells me about the chaos of managing emergencies in the ER during a hurricane.
It’s almost midnight when we finally finish the burger, and I realize how late it’s gotten. The restaurant section has mostly emptied, the only sounds now the faint clinking of glasses and the murmur of a few lingering patrons.
“Wow,” I say, glancing at the clock on my phone. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Time flies when you’re sharing stolen burgers,” he says with a smile. “Can I walk you to your car? ”
“Sure,” I say, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. We stand, and he places a gentle hand on the small of my back as we make our way outside, the cool night autumn air washing over us.
When we reach my car, I hesitate for a moment before turning to him. “Thanks for...the burger…and the company.”
“Anytime,” he says, his voice low and warm. He leans in, brushing a light kiss on my cheek that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Maybe I could have your number?”
“Ah…sure,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper as I type my number into his phone.
“Goodnight, Brooke,” Trevor says as he closes my door for me.
“Goodnight, Trevor.”
As I drive away, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m teetering on the edge of something incredible. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this light, this connected to someone—even if it’s just for a night. I don’t know where this will go, or if I’ll ever see him again. But at least I had a pleasant evening and fuel for a scene in a Sophie Quinn book.