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Determined to trust that the universe would produce coffee if I just looked hard enough, I opened the cupboard next to the fridge, then searched under the cabinet with the mugs, and then, finally, found seven more beans behind the toaster and chose not to think about how they might’ve ended up there as I scooped them into my palm.

Hallelujah.

I was just dropping them into the grinder when Tasha came downstairs, her backpack slung over one shoulder and her hair pulled up into a bun that looked like she’d made it while running from a fire. On the other hand, she’d been my housemate for a while now and she almost always looked like she’d gotten dressed while running from something.

The life of a grad student, I guess.

“Good morning,” she said happily, then glanced at the coffee machine on her way into the kitchen. “Wow. That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

“We’re out of coffee.”

I laughed. “Yeah, thanks for the update.”

“You said to tell you about it.” She smirked. “Are we out of instant too?”

“We’re out of anything containing an acceptable amount of caffeine,” I said. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She shrugged. “I’ll just grab a coffee on my way to class. We do need groceries, though. There’s only mustard and half an onion in the fridge.”

“I bought some more ramen,” I said. “It’s in the pantry.”

Tasha grinned. “Well, at least that’s dinner sorted.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t really thinking about the ramen anymore. Instead, my mind had wandered to the exceptionally good-looking asshole who’d helped me save it. Mr. Tall, Blond, and Handsome.

I had no idea where he’d come from, but when he’d appeared seemingly out of thin air to ride to my groceries’ rescue, I’d thought maybe he was my knight in shining armor. Until he’d opened his mouth. Oh, and looked at me like I was the greatest disappointment he’d ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

All because of a helmet. Asshole.

Tasha snapped me out of my thoughts when she tossed a stack of envelopes onto the kitchen counter. “Before I forget to give this to you again, I grabbed the mail yesterday. I just forgot it in my backpack.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

She smiled, extracting another envelope from the mess inside the backpack and setting it down on top of the mail. “There’s my rent, too. Don’t spend it on coffee.”

I groaned. “Trust me, I wish I could.”

“We’ll make it big one day, babe. Just keep your chin up. Five years from now, we’ll be swimming in the best beans money can buy.” She winked and backed toward the door. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late, but have a good one!”

“You too,” I said, barely managing to get the words out before the front door slammed behind her.

Exhaling a deep breath, I waited until I heard her car start before I looked through the mail. It was mostly junk, flyers, and a few other things, but underneath all that was an envelope that made my heart squeeze and my stomach drop.

I didn’t even have to open it to know what it was. At this point, the city had sent me so many of them that I recognized the threat before I’d even touched the packaging it had come in. This particular letter had a red stripe across the front, which I hadn’t seen for a while.

The last time I’d received one of these, they’d let me appease them with promises, but my luck was definitely running out. Just another day in paradise.

Instead of reading the bold warning, I chose to protect what little joy I could find in my weak coffee and went to get ready for the day. Then I headed to work without even looking at the envelope again. The time would come when I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I was painfully aware of that.

As it was, I was on borrowed time in the house. Ultimately, I would lose it. One way or another. I simply didn’t want to face the heartbreaking reality of that until I absolutely had to—and I didn’t need reminders from the city to know what was going to happen.

When I got to the library, it was like I could feel my worries check themselves at the door. I dropped my bag behind the children’s desk and immediately headed to the picture books to choose one for story time, determined not to let the world ruin my happy place.

The library might be where I worked, but it was also my sanctuary. While I was in here, I got to escape to beautiful, magical worlds and go on exciting adventures. One day, I’d be a pirate and the next, a fairy. I could go on fantastical quests with tiny, gleeful, trouble-free children and forget that my real life was a mess.

With Halloween coming up soon, my job got even more exciting. It was still weeks away, but children operated on a different calendar system, which meant that technically, Halloween had already begun and Christmas was right around the corner. Plus, every day was potentially dinosaur day for one of my five-year-old regulars who owned a T-Rex outfit.