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Hannah
It has been a week since Seth and I babysat Tess’s daughters. I’ve noticed that Seth has been spending more time at Colby’s house over the last week. A lot more time. If he’s not working, he just shows up out of the blue, uninvited and unannounced. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe he’s feeling lonely. Seeing him so much has been doing horrible things to my heart. I look forward to getting off of work and seeing him every evening, and that is not a good thing.
His constant presence is how I’ve ended up in my current situation. I found out about a huge estate sale earlier in the week. The house has a massive library, and I’m hoping to hit the jackpot with some antique books. I asked Colby to come with me, because if I do hit the jackpot, I’ll be needing some muscles to do the heavy lifting. He said he’d be too busy grading his students’ test papers. Boo. Seth overheard me begging and volunteered his services. He insisted on coming with me, actually, claiming to be curious about what a mansion this size looks like inside.
So here we are, wandering around this mansion together while I try to pretend I’m not freaking out inside. This feels a bit like a date, but don’t worry about me and my pitiful heart. I’ve been reminding myself every ten seconds that it’s not. He’s just doing me a favor. It’s probably more for Colby’s peace of mind than anything. Or a way to pay me back after making sure his allergic reaction was taken care of last weekend.
I’m looking at a strange painting of a dog when Seth comes up beside me and places his hand on the small of my back. Okay, that does feel very date-like. He leans down close to my ear and says, “You have to come see this bookshelf I just found. You need it.” He takes my hand—also not platonic behavior, I have to point out—and takes me to the shelf. He’s right. I have to have it. The wood is so dark that it’s almost black, and the intricate woodworking design is to die for. It’s enormous, and I imagine all of the beautiful antique books I can cram onto it. I look to see if there’s a “sold” sign on it, but it looks like it’s still up for grabs. An older woman, whose look screams Antique Roadshow, walks by and quietly eyes the bookshelf for a moment. I stand in front of it, trying to block her view. “Oh my gosh, this bookshelf is so ugly. Positively hideous, wouldn’t you say, Seth?”
“Really? I thought you’d like it,” he replies. He lowers his brows and rubs his scruffy jaw. I elbow him in the side and nod my head to tell him to play along. “Oh yeah, so ugly. Who would ever buy this monstrosity?” he says, like he wants the entire house to hear him. The woman rolls her eyes and walks off while I breathe a sigh of relief.
“We should have borrowed Colby’s truck,” I turn to him and say.
“Yeah, probably so, but I can go rent a trailer to get it back to Waverly,” he says. “You go find the seller to haggle for a price, and I’ll guard it with my life.” Before I can think better of it, I bounce up on my tiptoes and wrap him in a tight hug. With my body pressed up against his, I can feel just how toned he is. My breath catches in my throat as I slide my hands down to his biceps. I give them a quick squeeze and then back away from him. What was I about to do? Oh, right… “Umm, okay, I’ll be right back,” I say. I scamper away, forcing my mind to think about the beautiful bookshelf instead of the feel of Seth’s rock-hard body.
Books, books, books, abs, abs… No, Hannah! Books!
After I negotiate a price that won’t bankrupt me with the seller, and Seth has found a trailer to rent online, we both go in search of the library. I use my nose to follow the scent of old books. It’s a smell I’ve always loved, and I can pick it out like a bloodhound. As soon as I enter the library, my heart starts pounding out of my chest. I feel all fluttery inside—very similar to how I feel when Seth stands close to me.
“Seth, isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I gasp. It’s the library of my dreams.
“I take it you’re happy,” he says. Happy is an understatement. I could cry right now. I’m standing in the most beautiful personal library I’ve ever seen with the most beautiful man on Earth. There’s dark wood everywhere, plush chairs to recline in, and a spiral staircase leading up to a balcony that holds even more books. This place is my own personal paradise. I hate that this library won’t be here anymore for someone else to enjoy in this house. But I don’t hate it so much that I’m going to refrain from buying as many of these books as I can afford.
Seth browses the shelves with me for a little while, but then he gets bored. He takes a book from a shelf and plops down on one of the chairs to read while I take my time perusing the thousands of titles. I have two stacks of books sitting by Seth’s chair that are almost to my waist. I wish I could get more—so many more—but with the shelf purchase, this is all I can afford. This will be a significant addition to my stash of books I have set aside for my future bookstore. It’s like Field of Dreams: “Build it and they will come.” I’m buying these books, believing that my shop will happen someday.
An hour later, my books are boxed up in the back of Seth’s Jeep, and my bookshelf is riding safely inside a rented trailer. It has been a successful day, and I feel like I’m floating up above the clouds. That is, until Seth’s Jeep makes a horrible sound that should never come from a vehicle and begins smoking.
“Nooooo. Not my baby. Shelby, don’t do this to me!” Seth starts muttering.
“Did you just call your car Shelby?” I ask.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re focusing on right now? We’re stranded, and my girl is broken,” he whines. What is it with these men loving their vehicles more than life itself? And why are they always girls? Will a Jeep keep you warm on a cold night? Will a truck make you homemade chicken noodle soup when you have the flu? Will a car rub your back and kiss your temple when you’re sad? But do these men care anything about that? Nope.
“I’ll call Colby,” I say and grab my phone. The phone rings and rings, but no answer. Really, Colby? What could be more important than answering your baby sister’s phone call? “Can you call Jameson?” I ask Seth.
“My phone died an hour ago,” he says with a sheepish smile on his face. “Do you have his number?” I do not have Jameson’s number. After calling half the town of Waverly and getting no answers, we decide to give up and walk the approximate five miles into town to beg someone for help. Why don’t people answer their phones anymore? Way to be there for your friends in a crisis, people. Good thing we’re both wearing sneakers.
As we walk, Seth starts kicking a rock down the road. After a few minutes, I run forward to beat him to the rock. He chases after me and nudges me out of the way to get to it first. Eventually, we stop racing each other and begin taking turns kicking it.
“When are you going to open your bookstore?” Seth asks after a while.
“I don’t know. It’s just a pipe dream right now. It’ll probably never happen.”
“Why do you say that? I’ve seen your boxes of books piled up in Colby’s garage. I think you can do it.”
“I’ve had my eye on that empty building downtown for so long, but I don’t have the down payment yet. But anyway, I don’t know if I’m going to stay in Waverly for much longer, and renting or buying will be even more expensive in other places,” I say. We continue to take turns kicking the rock as we walk. We’re getting into dangerous territory. I can see him turning over this revelation in his head, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. And I want to know what he’s thinking. Would he care at all if I left town, never to return again? A few weeks ago, I would have said it wouldn’t matter to him at all. But now, I don’t know.
“Why would you leave Waverly?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I have a long, ever-expanding list of reasons I would be more than happy to stay in Waverly, but I keep that to myself.
“It’s the greatest town in Texas—no, the greatest town in America,” he answers. And he’s right. I do love this town. It’s tiny and quirky, and everyone is in everyone else’s business. I love it, but I’m all alone, all of the decent-paying jobs are taken, and now I’d be homeless if it weren’t for my brother.
“There’s nothing here for me anymore, Seth,” I say, feeling defeated.
“Colby’s here, your friends are here,” he says, and then he quietly adds, “I’m here.” I stop in my tracks and look at his face, searching for any hint of what he could mean by that statement. If he means it in a brotherly way, I might just have to go punch that tree over there, and then we’d have a broken Jeep and a broken hand to worry about.
I don’t get a chance to contemplate what he means for long, because a rustling sound comes from the tall grass at the edge of the road. Seth jumps behind me as fast as lightning. “Oh my gosh, is it a snake?” he asks as he grabs my shoulders and peeks over my head.
