AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He thought about having his extended family here for the next two weeks, everyone crammed together in the falling-down house. The laughter and arguments that would fill the air, the incessant questioning and how to head it off.
Unless…
What if he could convince June to be his fake girlfriend?
Dragan perked up at the thought, Leon side-eyeing him and furrowing his brow.
Just for two weeks, while he was forced into family time. It would at least alleviate some of the pressure from him, and maybe from his siblings if he proved that at least one of the Carter kids was on the “right” track.
His phone vibrated, Leon’s name onscreen.
You good? You look like a puppy lol
Yep.
He couldn’t say anything until he got June on board, but for the first time in a long time, something fluttered inside him. Something that felt an awful lot like hope.
6
The cabinet door shut harder than she meant it to, but June was reaching a breaking point. She loved her grandparents, she really did. She should’ve been used to the increasing supply of bland foods that filled the shelves or the takeout containers lining the fridge, the late night runs ofI Love Lucywhile they dozed on the couch. Just over seventy, it’s not like they were old old. Just… older.
But their lifestyle was not hers, and she was being dragged down with them.
June sighed, hunting for her leftovers of homemade chicken curry in the fridge while her cat Krantz wrapped herself around June’s leg. Her grandparents had raised her after the sudden death of her parents when she was eleven. Despite the outdated furniture and the dim lighting in the apartment above the bookstore, the bland food and suffocating stillness, she could be nicer, more understanding of her aging grandparents.
“Hey, hon. You find something to eat?” Her grandma, Missy, ambled into the kitchen.
“Yeah, have you eaten?”
“Your grandpa and I ate a few hours ago. How was the store today?” Missy shuffled to the dining table and sat, leaning against the table. Her gray hair stuck out from her ponytail, her face weary.
“It was okay.” June shrugged, bending down to pet Krantz. “The changes have made a difference, just not anything big. Dragan helped hang Mom’s mirror over the fireplace today, and that helped brighten it up.”
She avoided her grandma’s gaze, opting to focus on dishing and heating up her food. June couldn’t imagine how hard it was for a parent to speak of their dead child, knowing how hard it was for her to speak of her dead parents. But it was something her therapist had suggested, to help keep the memory of loved ones alive. Something about how they shouldn’t disappear and only be associated with their ending.
“Ah, I’m sure she would love that.” Missy’s voice choked and she cleared her throat. “She’d be so proud of you, honey.”
June’s laugh was cold. “Yeah, I’m sure. The one thing they left behind is dying, and I can’t save it.”
She pulled the plate from the microwave, slamming it on the counter harder than intended, trying not to let her frustration and annoyance boil over. June stirred the food before popping it back in and staring at the counter.
“Honey, the bookstore is not the one thing they left behind. And, to be fair, I think your grandpa and I are the ones that screwed it over. Not you.” Missy’s voice softened. “Is… is it even what you want to do? Because if you want to walk away, no one would blame you. W—We just want you to be happy, Juney.”
June took her food out of the microwave and started eating. It burned her tongue, but better that than the words that were ready to launch at her grandma.
“I am happy. I’m going to eat in my room.”
Before Missy could say anything, June took off, closing her bedroom door in Krantz’s face. She sat on her bed and took a deep breath, wanting to cry. The bookstore was the last thing she had left of her parents. She’d been raised in it as much as her own home — which her grandparents had to sell when she was thirteen in order to keep everything afloat.
So no, she wasn’t happy. She had a degree in English literature and ran a failing bookstore. She had three friends: Anna, Molly, and Dragan. She’d never had a real boyfriend, had only had unremarkable sex a handful of timesJune had come to the realization that she preferred her own company anyway.
Or Dragan’s.
They’d been each other’s rock through every storm. June always felt brightest when they were together and being with him always made her feel safe. June tried to see what the rest of her life would look like. Even if she could — by some miracle of miracles — save The Little Prince, would she really want to spend her days running it? She’d gotten a degree in English because it made sense. She lived and breathed books, not because she had to, but because she loved them. The stories, the escape, the way they smelled and the heft of them in her hands. All the possibilities.
Mindlessly eating her food, staring at the bouquet of store-bought flowers Dragan occasionally surprised her with, she realized there was no reason she couldn’t be a creator of books. That maybe while working those long, slow hours at the store with not a soul in sight, she could be someone that filled shelves and helped others escape.
Books had done that for her, and they’d done that for Dragan.
