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“Where?” I ask with a sigh.
She lets out a resigned sigh. “Library. But she doesn’t finish until seven.”
I’m already opening my truck before she’s even finished her sentence. There’s no way I can wait around until seven knowing she’s there.
I park in the library parking lot and hop out of the truck. The real challenge will be actually finding her in this big fucker we call a library. I head on in and search level after level, checking each row and study hall before eventually finding her on level three, sorting through piles of books and returning them to their positions on the shelves.
She grabs a book off the top of the pile and takes a look at the spine before searching the shelves for its spot. She finds it a few rows above her head and reaches up on her tippy toes to slide it in place, only she isn’t quite tall enough. I walk up behind her, pressing my body flush against hers, and nearly falter at the feel of her body against mine. Then, before she realizes how fucking desperate I am for her, I bring my hand up and push the book into its position.
Cassie’s body stiffens against mine, instantly knowing who stands behind her. “Can we talk?” I murmur, my hand falling to her hip.
She keeps her eyes forward as she slowly comes down from her tippy toes. “I’m working,” she tells me in her velvety sweet voice. That velvety voice I didn’t realize just how much I missed.
“Please,” I whisper. “You owe me that much. Just one conversation.”
She lets out a shaky breath and turns to face me, the movement causing her chest to press up against my rib cage. Her big brown eyes look up at me with tears beginning to pool, and it fucking kills me. “Jax,” she sighs, regret heavy in her tone.
“I promise, I just want to talk,” I tell her. “I’ll come back when you’re done and then I’ll leave you alone.”
She looks down at her feet as she thinks it over before finally meeting my haunted stare and nodding. “Okay,” she whispers, ever so softly. “I get off at seven.”
I step back out of her personal space and nod, letting her know I’ll be back, before forcing myself to walk away. With nothing else to do to pass the time, I head to the gym. After a grueling workout, I get myself cleaned up and show up at six. Then like a fucking desperate fool, I take a seat in the back of the library, silently watching her work for the last hour of her shift.
As the clock ticks closer to seven, I notice her become fidgety and realize she’s nervous, though I don’t know why. We’ve been talking about anything and everything since we were twelve years old. Sure, it’s been a few years, but I’ve seen this woman at her absolute worst and at her best. If anything, opening up to me should be as easy as breathing.
When the clock strikes seven, Cass says goodbye to the other girl working with her and grabs her shit from under a counter before hesitantly striding by me. She motions with a flick of her chin to follow her, and I get up, shadowing her through the library as she leads us into a long-forgotten study room, giving us the privacy we need.
There’s still enough daylight coming through the window, so she doesn’t bother to hit the lights as she passes them. I watch as she presses her back up against the wall, drops her bag, and slides down until she’s sitting.
Following her lead, I take a seat beside her, leaving enough room between us so I’m not tempted to reach out and touch her. After all, I’m here for one reason and one reason only. To find the answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself for the past three years. But goddamn, not touching her is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
We sit in silence, neither of us knowing where to start. My eyes linger on her bag and spy the torn-up notebook poking out the top, causing a strange familiarity to pulse through me. I desperately want to reach out and pluck the notebook from her bag, knowing it would be filled with lyrics that would give me some sort of insight into what her life is like now. But I know she would probably beat me to a pulp if I tried. Those old notebooks of hers were always considered a forbidden fruit, something I desperately wanted but knew I could never have.
“How are you?” I finally ask, feeling like an idiot for giving her the benefit of the doubt and not bombarding her with the hard questions. After all, she tore my heart out. What’s a little pain on her part?
