Chapter 20
The library was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. I can hear the clicking sound of each key from my computer ping off the silence. It was a comforting noise. One that was rare inside the home of a single mom. I reveled in it.
Thanks to Henry's help, I was ready to submit my last English paper of the semester. The bright submit button stood out on the computer screen, taunting me. I hovered my mouse over it, nerves and relief tangling together as I prepared to be done with the class for good.
After a few more seconds, I take a deep breath and rip off the Band-Aid. When a tiny box pops up on my screen, I smile in relief at the confirmation and lean back in my chair. I was done.
No more late-night revisions, no more obsessing over word counts or formatting. Just sweet, sweet freedom—at least until next semester.
Stretching my arms above my head, I let the tension in my shoulders unravel. A sense of accomplishment bloomed in my chest. Sure, it was just one paper, but it felt like climbing a mountain.
My gaze drifts across the library, the familiar rows of books stretching endlessly. My mind wanders to the future like it does most days when I get a moment of peace.
Once the comforting blanket of summer retired into fall, I needed to start thinking about what was next for Milo and me.
Whenever I think about this topic, one thing remains consistent. I need to do what’s best for Milo. Except now, a different face comes to mind—one with a kind smile and thick glasses that seem to see right through me.
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips.
Henry somehow weaseled his way into my mental equation, slipping into my thoughts in the quiet moments.
It wasn’t just how he helped me with my paper or how he listened when I needed to vent—it was something deeper.
He made me feel like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world alone.
But one unanswered question sits in the back of my mind. Something I’ve avoided because I didn’t think our friendship would develop into feelings.
Henry wasn’t a permanent fixture of this town. He was simply passing through, and I knew his time in Honey Grove had an expiration date. He was only here for the summer, and I wasn’t sure what would happen in less than a month. I needed to figure that out before I let myself get too invested.
The sound of light footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. Glancing toward the library entrance, I spot Henry walking through the double doors. His usual satchel is slung over his shoulder, and his hair is slightly mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
My heart did that annoying little skip it had learned recently, and I quickly turned back to my screen, pretending to be engrossed in something other than him. Maybe I was already in too deep.
“Pajarito,” his familiar, warm, and casual voice greets me. It makes me think about the last time I saw him, how good his hands felt, and how incredibly sweet he was. Thank God I decided to wear blush today.
I count to three before looking up, offering what I hope is a relaxed smile. “Hey, Henry. You’re here early.”
He grinned. It was the kind of smile that made my stomach flip. “Yeah, I am. I guess I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”
Now, I’m sure my blush isn’t working because my face feels like it’s on fire. I roll my eyes to cover up my pure swooning for this man. “Cute.”
He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, deciding to move on from his shameless flirting. “How’s the paper? Did you turn it in yet?”
I can’t stop the triumphant smile from spreading across my face. “Submitted. I’m officially done.”
“Look at you,” he sings, his tone laced with pride. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
“Oh, really?” I say, eager to hear his suggestion. “What did you have in mind?”
“Dinner at my place this Friday night. Milo is with his dad that night, right?”
“Yes.” I smile, trying to keep unsavory thoughts from obliterating my mind. My mouth waters at the idea of being alone with Henry.
He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, a loud sniffle catches our attention. We see Julia sitting at a nearby table with her head bowed, clearly upset.
Henry frowns, his gaze shifting between me and Julia. “Excuse me for a second,” he murmurs before shuffling his feet towards her.
Before he can get too far, I stop him. “Hey, Henry. Wait.” I jog around the desk and quietly approach him. “Would it be okay if I talked to her? I feel like we connected the last time we spoke.”
His eyes glaze over with an emotion I can’t read behind his thick frames. It takes him a second to respond, but after a few moments, he nods his head. I shoot him a reassuring smile and head toward the defeated teen slumped over a library desk.
When I approach Julia, my eyes catch her fingers perched on the desk.
It’s a small detail, but it is something only people like us can understand.
Her nails are chewed down to the skin, and I can tell life has been weighing on her heart lately.
When people like us experience heavy emotions, we turn inside and seek comfort from the only person we can rely on.
“Hey, Julia,” I say, crouching beside her.
Her petite frame jolts at the sound of my voice, telling me she’s wrapped up in her own little world right now. She uses the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the stray tears that decorate her porcelain cheeks.
“Oh. Hi, Emma,” she mumbles, her voice hoarse from the emotions seeping out. “I wasn’t being too loud, was I? I didn’t mean to—”
Before she can walk herself into a secluded corner, I cut her off. “You don’t need to apologize. I just came over here to make sure you were okay. I’m allowed to do that, right?”
A small smile breaks through the sadness streaking down her face. The mother in me wants to reach out and wipe away her tears. My mind itches to do anything to help her face the storm raging inside her.
“Yeah,” she says before taking a long pause.
Her eyes shuffle around the library, seemingly looking for a way to avoid this conversation.
I was prepared for her to evade my question, but I was pleasantly surprised when she started to speak.
“My mom and I got into a big fight before she dropped me off.”
I nod, remembering the countless times my mother has made me cry. I don’t say anything. I just smile, letting her know she can tell me as much or as little as she wants.
She lets out a defeated breath and continues.
“I’ve been looking at colleges to apply for next year, and I told her I wanted to major in creative writing.
She told me it was not a realistic major and that I needed to pick something more practical.
I even told her how Mr. Castillo thinks I have a real gift and how my short stories have improved over the summer.
But she still insists it’s a waste of time.
She doesn’t understand what writing means to me. ”
Julia’s words settle into a weak spot in my heart. She was so lucky to know her passion this early on in life. Being told her dream is somehow less valid because it didn’t come with a guarantee of success could mean stomping out the light in her eyes before she even has a chance to explore it.
“Julia,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Sometimes people say things like that because they’re scared. Your mom might be worried about your future, but that doesn’t mean she’s right to dismiss your passion.”
She sniffles and looks up at me, her glassy eyes searching mine for reassurance. “But what if she’s right? What if it is a waste of time?”
“Let me tell you something. When I started going back to school, there were so many times I thought I couldn’t do it.
I thought that it was selfish, pointless, or just too hard.
But then I’d think about what kind of example I wanted to set for my son, and it reminded me that pursuing something you love isn’t selfish—it’s brave. ”
I swallowed hard, the words tumbling out of my mouth in one fluent motion.
Most of them were true, except for the part about pursuing something I loved.
I went back to school to make sure Milo and I had a future, but somewhere down the road, I forgot to think about what I wanted, what my passion was.
She wipes at her face again, and that light buried deep within her eyes flickers to life. Hope was such a fickle thing, but if it had the power to stop her tears from falling, maybe it wasn’t a bad thing after all.
“You think I could do it?”
“I don’t just think—you’ve already proved it,” I say. “Henry—Mr. Castillo—wouldn’t say you have talent if you didn’t. He isn’t the type to give out empty praise.”
That earns me a tiny, almost imperceptible laugh. “No, he’s not.”
“Exactly,” I say, smiling. I rise from my crouched position and wince at the feeling of both of my knees cracking. “You love writing. You’re good at it. And guess what? That’s more than enough of a reason to keep going.”
Julia sits with my words for a moment, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks, Emma,” she says finally.
“Anytime,” I reply, smiling. “And if you ever need to talk more, you know where to find me.”
She nods, a genuine smile breaking through the lingering sadness on her face. “Mr. Castillo is hosting a reading of our short stories next week to wrap up the workshop. Can you come?”
“Of course,” I say without thinking. “I would love to.”
Julia smiles brightly at me, and we say our goodbyes before I return to my desk. I expect to find Henry where I left him, but he’s disappeared.
I crane my next to look around the library and smile when I spot his mop of curls in the fiction section of the library. I have to stop myself from skipping over to him like a child chasing after their first crush on the playground.
Henry’s eyes lift to mine as I step closer. His gaze is warm, thoughtful, and maybe even proud. However, all the emotions displayed on his face are hard to decipher when he looks so natural, nestled between the two rows of shelves surrounding him.
“You are amazing, you know,” he says, his voice low so only I can hear him. His hand brushes one of the shelves as he takes a step forward. “You didn’t just comfort her. You gave her something to hold onto.”
I smile, trying to ignore how close he is to me. My pulse quickens under the weight of his dark amber eyes trailing up and down my face. “It wasn’t a big deal. I saw myself in her. It’s hard not to want to help when you know what it feels like.”
Henry nods, and I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows hard.
“It is a big deal. Don’t minimize yourself.
You have a gift, Emma. You see and notice things about people that most people could care less about.
That’s rare. Have you considered looking into counseling or something similar after graduation? ”
I glance down, pretending to adjust my blouse and laugh. “That would require grad school, and that’s a much bigger time commitment than I have now.”
“Maybe,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “It may seem like a lot now, but if it means doing something you enjoy and not settling, then I think it’s worth it. And if not, we can figure something else out.”
The word we catches in my throat. I look up at him, tilting my lips into an innocent smirk. “You think I could do something like that?”
He tilts his head slightly. Studying me with that steady, unshakable confidence he seems to carry so effortlessly. “I don’t just think it. I know it.”
I meet his gaze, and the intensity in his dark eyes makes my chest tighten. Henry’s hand moves beside me and reaches out to caress my cheek. I tilt my head, leaning into his touch.
My eyelids flutter close before gently opening up to see his gaze on my lips. My tongue darts out to moisten my bottom lip before pulling the light pink skin between my teeth.
His stare turns a shade darker as he watches the motion. His breath hitches, and the sound sends a shiver down my back. I lean back on the bookshelf and invite him to step closer.
“Oh, Emma,” he whispers. His voice is low and rough, causing my stomach to do somersaults in the quiet of the library stacks. “What am I going to do with you?’
Henry’s thumb reaches up and gently traces my bottom lip. The motion was so simple, and yet, it made my insides feel like Jello.
“I have a few ideas,” I say without thinking. A deep shade of red settles on the top of my cheeks and sends a hot flash across my skin.
The corner of Henry’s lips forms a lopsided smirk, telling me he knew what I meant by the comment. He doesn’t hesitate before leaning in close. I close my eyes, anticipating a kiss, but it never comes.
His hot breath tickles my neck as his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I have to swallow the noises threatening to spill out. “Careful, Pajarito. I might take you up on those dirty little thoughts swimming through your head.”
Henry’s voice is teasing, but there’s an unmistakable heat behind each syllable. I clench my thighs together, trying to make my body realize I’m at work.
He straightens and steps away with a grin. The darkness in his eyes is replaced with his usual playfulness. It feels like whiplash. “So, dinner at my place Friday night. What do you say?”
I push myself off the bookshelf, my heart beating with excitement and a little of something else. “I think I can make that work.”
“You better, Pajarito,” he says with a wink.
A smile burns on my lips. I can feel my cheeks tightening from all the smiling I’ve been doing lately. It felt good.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”