13. Samantha
CHAPTER 13
Samantha
I tucked the last brightly illustrated book back onto the shelf, children's laughter filling the air of The Minden Public Library's children's area. It was a cute space, but the peeling paint on the walls and the threadbare carpet spoke of a budget stretched too thin. Yet, in that moment, the sound of pure joy managed to lift the weight from my shoulders, if only for a breath or two.
"Did you like the story about Otter and Fox?" I asked, smiling at the sea of small, eager faces gathered around me.
"Yeeeees!" they cheered in unison, their enthusiasm infectious.
“Would you eat that snack that Otter made his sick friend?”
“Nooooo,” came the chorus of replies.
I laughed. "Remember, books are treasures that take you on adventures," I told them, my eyes scanning the room, taking in the need for renovation even as I tried to focus on their shining faces. "Make sure to come back next week to hear about the pirate who loved to read!"
As the kids scattered, their guardians offering me grateful nods, I began stacking chairs, my mind already racing with the to-do list that awaited me. That respite was short-lived. Mr. Henley, approached me, his expression serious, brows knitted above rimless glasses.
"Samantha," he began, his tone suggesting yet another item was about to be added to my workload. "I need to talk to you about the renovation funding."
"Of course." I straightened up, slipping back into my professional self. "Did one of the grants come through?”
He shook his head.
"I see," I replied, feeling the pressure settle back onto my shoulders, heavier than before. "So what do you need from me?"
"You've always had a knack for rallying support when it counts. If you want this renovation…" He paused. "It has to be you who makes it happen."
"You want me to get funding for the renovation," I said, pushing past the tightness in my throat, “On my own?"
"We can’t let the community down, Samantha," he said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And honestly, if you can’t manage to lead a minor project like this… Well, I’m not sure you’re the kind of leader this library needs.”
"Leader, huh?" I murmured, half to myself, as Mr. Henley walked away. I thought he was supposed to be the leader.
Of course, that would require actual work. And I was pretty sure he was allergic to it.
With everything else on my plate, the idea that I had to get funding for this renovation was laughable. And for him to insinuate my job was on the line if I couldn’t do what he hadn’t been able to do in ten years? What a jerk.
But then, I'd never been one to back down from a challenge. If it was a champion the library needed, then that's what I'd be.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I checked to make sure Mr. Henley was out of sight before I pulled it out. A text message illuminated the screen.
Evan: I want to meet Sophia. Tomorrow.
His words, short and direct, felt more like a command than a request. My heart raced, and the device in my hand suddenly seemed as heavy as the decision it carried.
I closed my eyes, summoning the strength that had carried me through countless challenges before. "Tomorrow," I echoed, the word hanging in the air like a verdict.
Tomorrow?
I wasn’t ready.
But it didn’t matter. The time for hiding had passed.
For thirteen years, I’d built a life where it was just Sophia and me. I’d fought through exhaustion, scraped by when money was tight, and carried the weight of every decision alone. I had never let myself wonder what it would be like to have help—to have someone else carry even a fraction of the burden. Because there had been no one.
And now, suddenly, there was.
Evan.
A man who had been absent, not by choice, but by manipulation. A man who had spent years searching for me while I had spent years convincing myself I had done the right thing by keeping him in the dark. Why had God brought Evan to Minden after all these years?
I wasn’t just afraid of his involvement—I was kind of angry that it was even an option now. Where had he been when I stayed up nights trying to soothe a fever? When I had to choose between paying for groceries and fixing our car? When Sophia asked, Why don’t I have a dad like the other kids?
And now, just like that, he wanted to spend time with her.
My stomach twisted. How was she supposed to react? She didn’t know him. He was a stranger. Would she be excited? Hurt? Would she resent me for keeping him from her?
I swallowed hard and sank onto the large, stuffed chair I used for story time, my fingers gripping the phone as if it could somehow give me answers. Evan wasn’t just passing through Minden. He was here . And if I knew anything about him and his family, it was that they didn’t back down.
Neither did I.
But this time, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to fight for something or against it.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my mind racing through a dozen ways to respond. I could say no. I could tell him Sophia wasn’t ready. But the truth was, I wasn’t ready.
And I wouldn’t let him blindside her before I knew exactly what he wanted.
Samantha: Not happening. We meet first. Just us. Tonight.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
The response came almost immediately.
Evan: Where?
I blew out a breath. At least he wasn’t arguing.
Samantha: The Bistro. 8 PM.
It was neutral, public, and familiar. And it gave me a few hours to pull myself together.
The coffee shop was quiet when I arrived, the usual evening crowd thinning as closing time crept closer. I spotted Evan immediately through the window. He was sitting at a small booth in the corner, back straight, eyes scanning the room. He looked like a man on a mission.
I squared my shoulders and walked inside.
His gaze locked onto mine the moment I stepped through the door. There was something in his expression—determination, maybe a hint of wariness, but also something deeper. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit?"
I hesitated, then did. "Before we talk about Sophia, I need to know what you're expecting from this."
His jaw tightened. "I don’t know yet."
That answer wasn’t good enough. "You don’t get to just drop into her life and figure it out as you go, Evan. You weren’t there for her, and—”
"You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quiet but firm. "You think I don’t hate that? I searched for you, Sam. I tried. And now that I know she exists, I’m not just walking away."
I folded my arms. "So what does that mean? Do you want weekends? Holidays? Full custody?" My heart dropped as I voiced all the possibilities I’d been rolling over in my head.
His eyes flashed. "I just want a chance. I want to know my daughter."
The words sent a sharp pang through my chest. Not because they were wrong, but because they were right. Because she was his daughter, and no matter how much I had tried to protect her, I couldn't change that fact.
But giving him a chance meant risking everything. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
A heavy silence stretched between us, thick with tension. Not just the tension of an argument, but something older, something deeper.
I hated how familiar he still felt. How the rough edge of his voice sent a shiver through me, how I could still pick out the flecks of gold in his eyes beneath the dim café lights. I hated that, after all these years, part of me still remembered the way his touch had felt.
I crossed my arms tighter, like that would somehow protect me from the pull of the past. “This isn’t just about you, Evan.”
His jaw flexed. “I know that.”
The intensity in his voice sent a jolt through me. I wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else entirely, something dangerously close to the fire that had burned between us once before.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt charged, humming with something I wasn’t ready to name.
I looked away, breaking the spell. “You don’t know anything about her,” I said, my voice softer now, though no less firm.
“That’s why I’m here.”
His voice was low, steady. Almost gentle. And I also hated that it made my pulse stutter.
I exhaled sharply. “She’s smart. Stubborn. She loves books more than anything, and she hates when people talk down to her just because she’s a kid.” A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips before I could stop it. “She’s got this way of looking at the world, like she’s trying to figure out its secrets. Her curiosity is exhausting sometimes,” I admitted.
Evan was staring at me, something unreadable in his expression. I realized, too late, how intimately I’d spoken of Sophia—like she was ours.
Like we were still something.
Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly added, “She’s had a good life, Evan. A stable life.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m not here to take that away from her.”
Something in my chest ached at the sincerity in his voice. The familiarity of it. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to make me remember. We’ll build a life together. Can’t you see it?
I forced myself to sit up straighter, to put distance between us where there was none. “Then we take this slow.”
Evan inhaled, as if steadying himself, before nodding. But then, as if sensing the shift between us, he leaned back, breaking whatever had just passed between us.
“I can do slow,” he agreed, his voice suddenly cooler. “But I won’t let you shut me out again.”
And just like that, the wall was back up.
He was shutting it down. The chemistry, the connection—whatever had just sparked between us—he was burying it beneath layers of restraint.
And maybe that should have been a relief.
So why did it feel like a loss?