Page 97

Grinning, I rest my forehead lightly against hers. ‘The next game you want to play, maybe don’t choose something I’m exceptional at.’

She tilts her head in that cute way of hers.

‘Maybe that’s the whole point,’ she whispers, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

I let out a low chuckle, brushing my thumb over her jaw. ‘That’s pretty hot, Cherry.’

Holding her against me, I let her head rest lightly on my chest and tighten my arms just enough to keep her close. The world around us falls away until it’s just us. Her heartbeat presses against my side, fast and uneven, and I can feel every shiver, every inhale, every subtle movement she makes. I wish I could freeze this moment, bottle it up, lock it away, and keep it forever. The thought makes my chest ache in a way I’ve never felt before. Just holding her, feeling her respond to me, knowing she trusts me enough to let herself be held – it’s enough to make the world outside vanish.

I brush a strand of hair from her forehead, my thumb lingering against her cheek. Her eyes close for a moment, and I press a soft kiss to the top of her head. If I could, I’d stop time right here. I’d keep her in my arms, in the quiet dark, and let nothing else exist.

39

ASH

Five Years Ago

The library is exceptionally quiet tonight. The music in my headphones drowns everything out as I slide books into place, row after row, each one a reminder that I’m supposed to be here doing a job and living a life. But all I can think about is Bryn. My calls aren’t going through to her. She’s blocked me and removed me from her life and it’s like someone has ripped a piece of me out and left a gaping wound.

I lean over the cart of returned books and stack them mechanically, but my hands are shaking slightly. Every title I touch feels meaningless compared to the thought of her, the sound of her laugh, and the way she looked at me like I was the only person in the world. The music shifts to a song she once liked, and it hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I almost drop the books. I try to focus, I really do, but every novel I put back, every step I take between the shelves, is haunted by her absence. I pace a little, pretending the library is enough to distract me, but it’s not. I’m spiralling and I can’t tell anyone. No one gets it. No one knows her like I do. No one can understand what she takes from me just by not being here.

Yanking off my headphones for a second, I let silence flood me. It’s worse. The quiet presses against my skull, reminding me that she’s out of my life now. My throat tightens and I run a hand over my face, wishing I could do more than just stand here, trapped in the library with this spiralling ache. I need her, and the worst part is there’s no way to make her see it. My knees buckle and I sink to the floor, my head in my hands. A soft shuffle of feet interrupts me. I lift my head slightly and see Mrs Callahan, the older librarian I sometimes help, leaning against the shelf, her expression gentle but cautious.

‘Ash, are you okay?’ she asks, careful not to draw attention from the few patrons scattered around. Her hands are folded in front of her.

I shake my head, trying to shove my emotions down, but it’s useless.

‘I just …’ My words die in my throat. How could I explain it? How could I make her understand that it’s not just a bad day, but a hollowing – a desperation that nothing can fix?

Mrs Callahan bends down beside me, her eyes soft. ‘Up you get, let’s go out the back.’

I stare at the floor, every muscle tense, feeling ridiculous. My hands shake slightly as I push myself to my feet. She slips an arm around my shoulders, steadying me, and guides me toward the back. We head into the library’s small tearoom. Warm light and the faint scent of herbal tea wrap around us. The quiet clink of cups and the soft hum of the kettle fill the space. I sink into the corner chair, letting the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. Mrs Callahan slides into the chair across from me, setting her bag at her feet. The kettle sings softly and she pours herself a cup. I watch her, feeling the weight of everything press down on me, knowing I can’t just unravel in front of her. Instead of asking me what’s wrong, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a magazine.

‘Here,’ she says lightly, pushing it toward me. She drops a newspaper in front of herself. ‘I didn’t have a chance to read this earlier today. I might read now for a bit, if you’d like to join me.’

I glance at her, surprised. The magazine is trivial, but the gesture itself is kind. She unfolds the newspaper she’s brought and scans the page. She doesn’t look at me. She lets me have the space to just sit there, to collect myself without pressure. I pick up the magazine, brushing the pages without really reading, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe without feeling like I’m suffocating. Her presence alone is a relief I didn’t know I needed.

My eyes dart toward the door, some tension still coiled in my shoulders.

‘Do we need to go back out there?’ I ask quietly, not sure I’m ready to.

She looks up from her paper, her gaze calm and steady. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says.

For a moment, the ache in my chest eases just a fraction. I sink back into the chair, sipping warm tea. She goes back to her reading, flipping the pages with quiet concentration. My phone buzzes on the table. The screen glows with an unknown number. I frown, picking it up.

Unknown: Ash. I need you. Only you can make him pay.

My knuckles are white, curled around the phone. A sudden spike of unease spreads through me as I try to make sense of the words.

Unknown: I’m sorry for everything I caused. I’m leaving it in your hands. Bryn needs you.

I freeze, staring at the screen and trying to process the words.

Unknown: I can’t explain now. I can’t stay, but you have to do this. Please. Without me here, he’s going to her next. You know what you need to do.

She’s disappearing, and she’s leaving it all to me.

My eyes narrow. I don’t need explanations – not fully. The weight of the responsibility is enough. I have the chance to make things right. Bryn’s lost her sister: Isla is running away and leaving her behind. She’ll be alone with him, Grant, to comfort her. My stomach twists and blood rushes in my ears. I can’t think straight. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. It’s ridiculous. He’s not me; he’s her stepfather. Thinking of him touching her and comforting her makes my chest burn. My fists clench at my sides. I can feel my nails digging into my palms. My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure Mrs Callahan can hear it.