I tried to shake it off, grabbing a copy ofPride and Prejudiceto shelve. My hand slipped, and the book hit the floor with a loud thud. I flinched. So much for not being distracted.
I crouched down to pick it up, pressing the worn cover to my chest for a second longer than necessary. “What if I made a mistake?” I whispered aloud, and the words echoed more than I wanted to admit.
Marmalade let out a soft meow from the window. I looked up, and he blinked at me like he understood. Maybe he did. Because as much as I tried to convince myself I was fine, the truth was gnawing at me:
I missed him. Not just the idea of him. I missedCavil.
I wandered over to Marmalade, crouching beside his perch and letting my fingers scratch behind his ears. He leaned into the touch, purring faintly, but kept his eyes mostly shut—content, detached, and clearly uninterested in offering emotional wisdom. “You know,” I murmured, “I could really use some advice right now.”
He gave a single, unimpressed blink before closing his eyes again, as if to sayyou’re on your own, sweetheart.Typical. Furry, cozy, and emotionally unavailable—just like every man I’d dated before Cavil.
With a soft sigh, I stood and turned toward the front window. Snow fell steadily outside, blanketing the town in pristine white. It was beautiful, the kind of soft winter magic you read about in books. And yet, behind the glass, in the stillness of my shop, it felt hollow. Without Cavil’s quiet presence, his low voice, the way he made every corner of this place feel warmer—it all seemed a little too quiet. A little tooempty.
I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching a snowflake melt the instant it touched the pane. “I should’ve told him,” I whispered. I should’ve said how much he mattered. How he made me feel alive again—how, after everything with Leo, I didn’t think that was even possible.
But the fear—God, thefear.What if I was wrong again? What if Cavil changed his mind? What if Leo found out and everything shattered into something I couldn’t put back together?
Still… wasn’t love always a risk? And hadn’t I already fallen somewhere along the way?
I slumped into the armchair across from Marmalade, pulling my phone from my pocket like it might hold all the answers I didn’t have. My thumb hovered over Cavil’s contact name.Cavil Carter.Just seeing it there sent a little jolt through my chest.
What could I even say?I miss you? I’m sorry?None of it felt like enough. The silence between us was no longer empty—it wasloud, echoing with everything I hadn’t said. Everything I was still too scared to say.
I glanced at the door again, my heart stupidly hopeful.
But the bell didn’t ring. The door didn’t open. And all that greeted me was snow, falling steadily outside, indifferent to the ache pulsing quietly through me.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, bracing against the bite of the wind as I approached the community center. The little van behind me—usually filled with laughter, teasing, and Cavil’s too-loud critiques of my driving—was quiet now. Uncomfortably so. The silence pressed in on me, amplifying the thud of the books in the back every time I hit a bump.
God, I missed him.
I parked and sat for a moment, hands gripping the wheel. Maybe if I just stayed here long enough, the ache in my chest would fade. But the truth was, I’d made the choice to let him go. I was the one who told him to leave. And now I was the one left sitting in a cold van, pretending like I hadn’t ripped something important out of my life.
I climbed out and hoisted the box of books onto my hip, heading toward the front doors with stiff resolve. The warmth inside the building hit me immediately—like a soft, familiar hug. The smell of paper, crayons, and faint cinnamon hung in the air, tugging at memories that only made the ache worse.
“Callie!” someone called from the front desk, their smile genuine and bright.
“Hi,” I said, summoning a smile I didn’t quite feel. “Just dropping off some new reads for the kids.”
“Oh, perfect!” she said, standing to take the box from me. “We’re setting up for story time now. Want to help?”
“Of course,” I said, following her to the back tables.
I busied myself unpacking the books—titles about faraway kingdoms, talking animals, brave girls, and mischievous dragons. Normally, I’d feel energized here, surrounded by stories and tiny hands eager to grab them. But today, everything felt a little muted. Like the color had dimmed just a bit.
Until he ran in.
A blur of energy flew past the tables, nearly knocking over a stack of chapter books before skidding to a stop in front of me. A little boy—six, maybe seven—grinned up at me with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
“Thank you for the books!” he said, breathless.
I blinked, caught off guard. “You’re… welcome?”
“The ones the British guy picked out,” he clarified, eyes wide. “He said I’d like the dragon one. And Idid!He breathes fire and everything!”
I laughed, but it came out choked, emotions catching in my throat. “You liked it?”
He nodded, serious now. “It was the coolest book ever.”
