22. Evan
CHAPTER 22
Evan
T he children’s reading nook looked worse than I remembered.
I ran my hand along the edge of a low wooden table, its surface scarred with scratches and faint crayon marks that had been partially scrubbed away over the years. The air smelled faintly of old paper and lemon-scented cleaner, though nothing could disguise the mustiness clinging to the aging carpet beneath my feet. The shelves, once painted a cheerful yellow, were chipped and faded to a dull, lifeless beige. A couple of stuffed animals sat perched on top, their fur matted and their seams stretched thin from decades of tiny hands tugging them this way and that. It wasn’t much to look at now, but I could see it—what it could be.
I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms as I took it all in. "Let’s turn you into something worth remembering."
This wasn’t just about sanding down furniture or slapping on a fresh coat of paint. This was for Sophia. For Samantha. For the life I wanted to build, one piece at a time. My chest tightened, but not in a bad way—not entirely. There was something else mixed in there, some spark of hope trying to claw its way past the doubt that always seemed to linger.
I pictured a little girl sitting cross-legged on a bright new rug, her face lighting up as she flipped through one of those oversized picture books kids love. Maybe other kids would sit beside her, giggling and sharing stories. And Samantha…she’d be there too. Not just watching, but smiling. Relaxed. Happy. That image—it stuck with me, made me stand a little taller. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
After my impromptu visit to the library, I went directly to Sam’s apartment. She opened the door, and for a moment, I forgot why I was there. She wore a simple navy sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, but there was something about the way she looked at me—her eyes full of happiness—that made me forget what words were supposed to sound like.
"Hey," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You’re early."
"Yeah, well." I cleared my throat, stepping inside when she moved aside to let me in. The faint scent of lavender drifted in the air, mingling with something warm and homemade—Mexican food, maybe? "Figured I’d leave room for traffic. You know how packed Minden gets on a Tuesday night."
Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but not quite. "Sure. Traffic. Come on in."
The living room was neat and cozy, every corner carefully curated. A stack of library books sat on the coffee table next to a half-empty mug of tea. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, suddenly feeling too big and out of place in the small space.
"How’s Sophia?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"She’s good," Samantha replied, crossing her arms as she leaned against the arm of the couch. "She’s still over at Kelly’s house."
"Right." I nodded, pulling a folded photo from my pocket and holding it out to her. "I wanted to show you this. It’s, uh, something I’ve been working on."
She hesitated before taking it, her fingers brushing mine briefly. I tried not to think too much about it as she unfolded the paper and scanned the three-dimensional rendering—a bright, colorful mural design, modular seating, shelves low enough for kids to reach easily.
"Wow," she murmured after a moment, her eyes still on the page. "What is all this?"
"Turns out the newly established Mercer Foundation has sponsored a renovation for Minden Public Library," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. I’d been debating what to do with my trust fund ever since I had the blowup with my father. He couldn’t take the money back, and I was determined to put it to good use. A charity was the obvious choice. "But I’ve got help lined up. The guys from the station are pitching in. I just—I wanted you to know how serious I am about this. About being there for Sophia. For you both."
She looked up then, her expression unreadable. I braced myself for skepticism, for questions, for anything that might poke holes in the fragile confidence I’d built up on the drive over. But instead, she surprised me.
"Why the library?" she asked.
"Because it matters," I said simply. "It’s a place where kids feel safe, where they can dream a little bigger. And because…it’s your place. I wanted to do something that connected us, something that showed—" I stopped myself, realizing I might’ve said too much.
"Showed what?" she pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"That I mean it," I said finally, meeting her gaze. "All of it. You, Sophia, Minden. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Samantha. Not this time."
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Just stood there, holding the printout like it might slip through her fingers. Then, slowly, she smiled.
“It’s amazing,” she said. Relief flooded my limbs, so strong I had to remind myself to stay steady. Samantha’s approval mattered more than I’d let myself admit. I had worked on the library, not just as a way to prove I could be here for them, but as a tangible offering. Something real. Something solid. I wanted her to see that I wasn’t just making promises—I was building something that would last.
She reached out, her fingers brushing over mine where I still cupped her cheek. For a moment, I thought she might pull away, but she didn’t. She stayed.
“You’re sure? There’s still time to change anything you don’t like,” I said, brushing away the tear that was trailing down her cheek.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice softer, like maybe she couldn’t quite believe it herself.
I swallowed hard, my thumb absently tracing a line along her jaw. “I meant what I said, Sam. I’m here. Not just for Sophia, but for you, too.”
Her breath hitched, her lashes flickering as she searched my face, looking for any hesitation. Any sign that I didn’t mean it. But there wasn’t one. I’d never been more certain of anything in my life.
She let out a slow exhale, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “Evan…”
I didn’t give her a chance to overthink it.
In one swift motion, I closed the distance between us, my lips capturing hers with a gentle yet insistent pressure. Her hands glided up my chest, fingertips tracing the contours of my muscles, and her body melted into mine, a silent affirmation of her answer.
I sensed the tension unravel within her, like a tightly wound spring finally being released, and my heart swelled with pride and deep satisfaction. Nothing felt as right as having her in my arms, where her warmth radiated and filled the space between us with an undeniable connection.
A few days later, I stood in the library with the contractor.
"Alright, so here’s the vision," I said, tapping the rolled-up blueprint on the table. We stood in the children's reading nook, the faint smell of old books and dust hanging in the air. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall library windows, catching the floating motes stirred up by our movements.
"Think bright, think inviting," I continued, gesturing toward the faded carpet beneath our feet. "We’re talking soft colors, maybe something like a pale blue or green that doesn’t scream ‘institutional,’ you know? And definitely some beanbags or comfy chairs for the kids to flop onto. Maybe even one of those little play tents—Sophia loves those."
"Yeah, I can see it," the contractor, a stout guy named Dale with a pencil tucked behind one ear, nodded as he scribbled notes. His voice was gruff but not unkind. "You’re looking at ripping out this old furniture first, though. Some of this is from, what, the seventies?"
"Sixties, maybe," I said, crouching down to give one of the wooden shelves a firm shake. It groaned under my hand, wobbly enough to make me wince. "Definitely not safe for kids. This has gotta go. All of it."
"Got it," Dale said, flipping his clipboard shut. "I’ll get my guys in here next week to start on the flooring and paint after you clear this stuff out. And we’ll get new shelving units from Todd Flynn, I think.”
By the time we started clearing out the space, the sun had shifted higher in the sky, spilling golden light onto the patchy carpet. Samantha showed up first, her sleeves already pushed up as if she meant business. She didn’t say much, just gave me a quick nod before heading straight for one of the ancient armchairs in the corner.
"Careful," I called over. "That thing might crumble to dust if you touch it wrong."
"Then we’re doing this place a favor," she shot back, her tone dry but her lips twitching in what might’ve been the hint of a smile. Progress.
A few minutes later, two of the firefighters from the station, Jake and Bryce, arrived, hauling work gloves and a dolly between them. Jake clapped me on the shoulder. "So, this is what you’re moonlighting as now? Furniture mover for hire?"
"Only for the right cause," I said, grabbing one end of a rickety bookshelf.
"Great," Jake said with a grin. "Because this is exactly how I wanted to spend my day off."
"Less talking, more lifting," Bryce cut in, already stacking a pile of warped picture books into a box. He glanced at Samantha, who was tugging at the stubborn armchair. "You need a hand with that?"
"Not yet," Samantha replied, grunting as she gave the chair a sharp tug. It scraped across the floor with an earsplitting squeal, and she looked up triumphantly. "There.”
As we worked, the room began to take on a different energy. The cluttered, dusty space slowly opened up. My muscles burned as I hauled out decades-old furniture, but I didn’t mind. Each piece I carried felt like shedding another layer of doubt, clearing the path to something better.
The scrape of the old bookshelf against the worn wooden floor echoed in the nearly empty room. I leaned into it, pushing with my shoulder until it slid into place near the growing pile by the wall. Sam said she already had someone coming to pick up the old shelves later today. My gloves were covered in a fine layer of dust, and I could feel the sting of sweat trickling at the back of my neck despite the cool air inside the library.
"Hey, Evan," Samantha said after a while, her voice cutting through the sound of Jake dragging an empty shelf toward the door. She was standing near the window, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. "Can you grab these boxes? I want to set up a small temporary kids section by the front desk.”
“Of course.” I moved to her side and turned to survey the space from her perspective.
For a moment, we stood there, side by side, looking at the half-cleared room. It wasn’t much yet, but for the first time, I could really see it—the bright colors, the cozy corners, the laughter of kids filling the space.
"Alright, break’s over!" Jake called, clapping his hands together. "Let’s get this done before Bryce starts charging us overtime."
"Back to work," I said, grinning as I grabbed the box. Every lift, every step, every bead of sweat—it was all worth it. Because this wasn’t just about renovating a library. It was about building something real.
Before I got too far, Samantha stepped close, lifting onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you,” she said with a soft smile. “I still can’t believe I agreed to let you do all this. But I’m glad I did.”
The zing of energy from the contact kept me motivated all morning.