Page 27 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Take a breath.”

“No, I’m fine. Just a little in shock.” But I take a deep, settling breath just the same. “It’s the end of an era, you know?”

He nods, though I know he can only understand it on a surface level, not having lived it himself.

“Also, this makes it official.”

“Makes what official?”

“It. This.” I look meaningfully back at the Post-It wall. “What we’re doing. Shutting down the store means the beginning of this. It’s a lot.” It’s the end of Adams’s Books.

“Yeah, it’s a lot. But thank god we have you to lead the project, right?” He smiles at me, thinking my only concern is only the reno and sale project itself and not the fact that the town will be losing something that meant a lot to it. But I don’t want to make things heavier, so I pretend that’s the only thing on my mind.

Knox takes my hands in his, pulling me up to stand in front of him—dangerously close. I have to consciously stop myself from looping my arms around him, sinking my face into his chest and breathing him in.

“Your faith in me is⁠—”

“Well-earned, based on all the amazing things I’ve heard and all the incredible things I’ve seen you accomplish in the short time we’ve known each other,” he cuts me off. “Don’t put yourself down. Look at this fucking list. Look at how you’ve already mobilized so many people and kicked off this project without a hitch. I mean, you got us a construction permit and a million others in under a week. I don’t care if this is a small town, that kind of thing doesn’t happen anywhere.”

I smile up at him, cheeks reddening. “Ah, that was easy. All I had to do was feed Councilman Forbes’s ego, tell him how great he is.” I shrug.

“Still, you knew to do it. Knew how to work the system. Because you’re not just book smart, you’re street smart.”

“Street smart?” I smirk, getting lost in the winter-blue of his eyes.

He laughs softly. “Yeah, street smart. So I know for a fact this is gonna go great.”

“I know you’re right, deep down. I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all.”

“I get that,” he says, nodding sympathetically. “Just know that not everything is riding just on your shoulders. I’m here for you. And so is Jenn. We’re both part of this as well, don’t forget that.”

In a moment of insanity, I take a step closer and hug him. “Thank you,” I murmur against his chest, inhaling his scent, never wanting to let it go.

He hesitates at first, but lets his arms come around me, warm, comforting, safe. He holds me tightly to him, tucking my head under his chin. “You’re welcome.”

We hold each other in silence for a moment. Perhaps a bit longer than what is considered normal. When I pull away, I can barely look him in the eye. I told him we needed space, and here I am initiating PDA. Still, I don’t regret it. Sometimes you just need a hug, even if it is a slightly sexually charged yet friendly one.

The bell over the front door chimes, followed by a very distinct, “Woo! Let’s give this baby a kick-ass send-off!” my sister yells. I hear Jenn laugh and offer her a drink, to which Adri responds with a “Hell, yeah.”

“My sister’s here,” I whisper, still unable to meet his eyes. “We should get out there.”

“Yeah.” Knox swallows once, twice, three times. “But, you good?”

I muster all the strength I possibly can and drag my eyes to his, finding in them exactly what I feared most: a yearning I hate to admit I’m starting to feel, too. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. That’s good. So should we…”

“Right.” And without another word, we leave the whatever just happened behind in the office and walk into Adams’s Bookstore’s last hurrah.

CHAPTER TEN

KNOX

Itake a sip of ice-cold beer before pulling out my camera and taking a picture of the sight before me. The bookstore is packed with people, many I have yet to meet but who all seem to know exactly who I am. Though maybe I’m just being a bit paranoid.

The space is nearly unrecognizable, its old shelves bare save for a few framed pictures of my father and the shop over the years. The middle island that contained staff picks has been turned into a buffet table filled with the most incredible finger food and snacks—all donated by Adriana, who I’ve discovered is a kickass cook. I’ve already inhaled about fifteen pounds of bacon wrapped stuffed dates with a maple glaze in the past hour. Not sure whether she added some sort of addictive quality to them or what, but that shit slaps. I’m going back for more.

“I can’t believe the bookstore is just… done,” I hear someone breathe beside me as I sneak another date from the island. I turn to face the voice and see that it belongs to a woman in her late seventies, long platinum hair down to her waist, and enough smile wrinkles to show that she’s lived a good, happy life.