Chapter 11
Eleven
Swayze
“Seriously? A fire, too? After everything else?” Sophie leaned closer to the phone camera. “Is Mercury in retrograde? Do we need to put you in some sort of anti-hex bath? Are you positive you haven’t been cursed?”
I hadn’t thought I could laugh again so soon, but her list of suggestions had me chuckling. “Considering how things turned out after the fire, I think my streak of bad luck might be abating.”
On the screen, Sophie and her fiancé, Connor, exchanged a Look. “Really?”
“Really. The fire department got me out in one piece with no injuries, and everyone here has just been so nice, helping me get the things I need, giving me a place to stay, finding me a new apartment to rent.”
“Well, that’s something. When do you move in?” Connor asked.
“I’m already here. I mean, it’s not like I have much stuff at this point.”
Moving in had been such a nothing since I had almost no stuff.
The entire process had taken less than an hour.
I’d need to rectify that emptiness, too.
For all that I was immensely grateful this apartment came mostly furnished, it held nothing of me.
Nothing personal. None of the little trinkets or framed photos I’d carried with me from place to place during my travels to keep that vital connection to home had survived the fire.
Everything that had made my life mine was just.. . gone. Ash and memory.
I was working hard not to let the grief of that drag me further down than circumstances already had.
Most of the photos had digital backups, thank God.
I’d get them printed and get new frames.
Simple enough. And along the way, I’d find new tokens to commemorate my adventures.
Little things that spoke to me. Maybe I’d find a new something while I was out today, exploring my new town.
An official apartment warming gift for myself, because why the hell not?
Despite my bright tone, my friends shot looks of sympathy in my direction.
Not wanting to slide further down that rabbit hole, I pushed on.
“I could barely wait even a day once I found the place. I just felt so weird imposing upon Elsie—she’s the wonderful woman who gave me a room after the fire.
Her home was lovely, but I don’t like being dependent on people, and this felt like taking control of my circumstances. ”
“Fair enough. Did you already get a payout from the renter’s insurance?” Sophie asked.
“Not yet. It’s in process. But Colter—he’s my new landlord—didn’t even ask for the deposit and first month’s rent. As he pointed out, he knows where I live now, so the money will get sorted when it gets sorted.”
He’d been so easy about the whole situation. Everything about him spoke of this solid, grounded guy. It was kind of lovely to be around someone who so clearly had his shit together. Maybe a part of me hoped it would rub off on me by sheer proximity.
Connor’s gaze sharpened. “Colter? Like, the firefighter who rescued you, Colter?”
“Yes. He’s Elsie’s grandson. I mean, it seems like a lot of connections, but it’s just how small towns work. Y’all know that.”
“Aye. Right,” Connor nodded, his eyes twinkling.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking how it would be completely reasonable for you to have some potential attraction to your rescuer and new landlord.”
The cheeky bastard. I rolled my eyes. “I do not.” But that didn’t stop my face from heating as I remembered the dreams I’d had last night.
Connor and Sophie exchanged a look, and I sighed. “Okay, fine, yes, he’s attractive, and I am not immune to recognizing that. But I’m still on a hiatus from men.”
“Has there been anyone since Seb?” Sophie asked, referencing the Australian rugby star I’d been tangled up with for several months during my sojourn in Oz.
“No. Which was entirely the point when I hopped over to New Zealand. Anyway, I’m not looking for anything here in Gibson Hollow. With the rest of my life imploding, it’s not exactly a good time to pursue anybody.”
“Fair,” Sophie admitted, “but a girl can appreciate the view.”
Well, I definitely couldn’t argue with that.
“Anyway, I’m still waiting on the new rental car, but town is close enough to walk from here, and my credit card company express mailed my new card.
It came in yesterday, so I’m about to head into town to find somewhere to satisfy my caffeine craving without depending upon the kindness of strangers.
” The one cup of tea I’d had from the little care package Elsie had sent with me was definitely not enough to get me through the day.
“You’re sure you’re okay? Is there anything we can do to help?” Connor asked.
“I appreciate the thought—both of you—but I’m fine. It’s good to check in. Hi to Uncle Angus for me, and we’ll talk again soon.”
With quick waves, they signed off the video call.
I was already dressed in a pair of slacks and a sweater from Devine Interventions, but it was pretty cold out.
I still had Colter’s coat, which needed returning, but I supposed I could keep using it until I got another of my own.
I scooped it up from where I’d draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
The moment I slipped it on, his scent surrounded me.
Since no one was watching, I indulged the urge to bury my nose in the collar and inhale.
Cedar and sandalwood. I couldn’t help but wonder if his skin would smell as good.
“Get a grip, Swayze. You’ve got places to be.”
I zipped the coat this time. It still swallowed me, with the wrists falling well beyond my hands. But at least I’d be warm for the walk. Shoving my brand new, very thin wallet into the pocket, I set off on foot for town.
It was about a mile to the edge of the business district. Could a town this size have a business district? The houses gave way to streets where homes blended with offices and other businesses. I wondered if it had always been like this, or if this was what had evolved in the wake of the flood.
A couple of blocks later, I hit the heart of downtown.
It was laid out in a sort of U shape, open to a small amphitheater and a park on the edge not hemmed in by buildings.
Someone had already been busy decking the halls—streetlights had been wrapped in garland and twinkling white lights, with enormous wreaths marching around the perimeter of the park.
The businesses, too, seemed to be getting into the holiday spirit with faux snow displays in their windows, strands of overlarge colorful Christmas lights lining awnings, and other forms of festive decor.
I expected there hadn’t been a lot to celebrate this time last year.
I spotted The Commissary on the corner. The diner’s vintage sign was visible from half a block away.
Elsie had informed me with no small amount of pride that it was hers.
I had no doubt I’d be able to get a good, hearty breakfast there, but I wasn’t quite ready to face more Gibsons at the moment.
My emotional reserves were still recovering from the past few days.
Continuing my exploration, I noted a pharmacy with a red-and-white-striped awning, a salon called Bless Your Hair with the tagline Where good hair days are a divine right written in script below the name, a couple of shops that looked like boutiques with mannequins posed in their windows, and then the Maddox Bread Company.
A chalkboard sign on the sidewalk announced their special of the day in cheerful handwriting: orange cardamom rolls.
“Sold,” I muttered. If I was lucky, the bakery would have tea in addition to the usual coffee.
As I made my way in that direction, taking in the festive atmosphere of the town square, I spotted a massive yellow school bus rumbling down the street.
It turned with a groan of brakes and maneuvered into a parking spot near the amphitheater.
But what immediately caught my attention was the extraordinary mural painted along the entire length of the bus.
Fantastical scenes bled seamlessly into one another: dragons curling around towering castles, ships sailing across starlit seas, forests that seemed to breathe with magic.
And there, arcing across it all in gorgeous, elaborate scrolling letters that looked like they’d been pulled straight from an illuminated manuscript, was the word LIbrARY.
Immediately pulled by the prospect of books, I followed to where it was parked near the amphitheater.
I had a healthy collection of ebooks and audiobooks since they didn’t impact my luggage space, but I always got a library card whenever I was anywhere long enough that I qualified because I routinely spent a ton of time on screens, and I preferred to take a break with actual paper books when I was able.
As I approached, a younger woman with blue-streaked blonde hair attached a metal ramp with railings to the emergency rear door before disappearing back inside.
I heard muffled female voices as I approached and lightly knocked on the main door.
Blue Streak made her way up the aisle to yank the door lever. “Hi! Come on in.”
I climbed the steps and was immediately assaulted by the scent of paper, wood, and something that faintly reminded me of rubber, which I supposed was the runner down the center of the bus, which seemed to be about the only thing remaining but for the driver’s seat and the passenger bench right behind.
Everything else had been removed and replaced with custom-built bookcases stretching all the way to the curved ceiling.
From what I could tell, each and every one was full.
“This is one hell of a bookmobile,” I observed. “The one we had in my hometown growing up was a converted panel van.”
“This here is the full Gibson Hollow Public Library, missy,” announced the old woman who seemed to be shelving something in the back.
The blonde rolled her eyes behind her navy framed glasses. “She wasn’t criticizing, Miss Alma.”