Page 10 of Falling

“You’ve got them wrapped around your little finger,” I pointed out. “They’re way more afraid of you than you are of them.”

“Seriously, though,” Seth said. “I need him to stay. And he does obviously like you. Help me out?”

Dawn tied the ribbon around the plant. Out of pity, I thought.

But also, she knew now that she could go see the cute boy for herself, so she didn’t need to hold my—his—houseplant hostage.

“I don’t know how convincing I am,” I said.

“Just... keep trying to make him feel welcome?” Seth asked. “You would’ve done that without me asking anyway.”

“I would,” I agreed. “He is welcome.”

Seth lit up into a bright smile. “Perfect. Tell him if he needs anything else in the cabin, he can actually tell me.”

“How did finding a librarian become your job, anyway?” I asked. Seth had his fingers in just about every pie in Otter Bay, and he was on the city council, but I wasn’t sure how that’d translated into HR.

He shrugged. “The wages of competence are extra work,” he said. “I’m into it though, and libraries are important and it’s my civic duty to make sure we get to keep it. I should run for mayor.”

I snorted, but secretly, I agreed. “Well, you’ve got my vote.”

“Mine too,” Dawn agreed, trading me plant for debit card.

“See?” I raised a brow at him. “Practically elected already.”

5

MILES

Now that people had gotten word the library was open again, I was in over my head. The borrowing system fought me at every turn. I had no idea what was in the catalogue. I’d never had to recommend a picture book before in my life.

I’d finished my day with a half-eaten candy stuck in my hair and I didn’t even know which one of the toddlers I’d had to wrangle had done it.

In the ten hours the library had been open, I’d applied to fifteen jobs and asked three acquaintances to let me know if they heard about anything.

I was not cut out to be a public librarian.

I missed my quiet stacks. I missed scared undergrads and stressed PhD candidates being the worst thing I had to deal with. I missed having an IT department. I missed not having to wash my hair in the bathroom sink before I left work to get as much spit and sugar out of it as I could.

When I’d first decided I’d walk to the library because it was only fifteen minutes and fresh air was meant to be good for you, I hadn’t taken into account the full-body exhaustion of dealing with the public for ten hours a day. The walk back felt like a hundred miles over mountainous terrain. As soon as I got through the door, I stumbled to the couch and flopped down on it.

It took me thirty full seconds to realize it wasn’t the same couch I’d had yesterday, and another ten to notice that I wasn’t alone.

“Hi,” said the broad-chested, manbun-wearing, complete and total stranger in my house, holding a measuring tape with a pencil tucked behind his ear. “I’m Ward.”

“Miles,” I said, the combination of exhaustion and lingering customer service mindset overriding any fear I might’ve felt. “I… you… this is…”

“I was meant to be gone by the time you came back, but this would be a good time to tell me whether you’re more of a walnut or a mahogany kinda guy. We could go darker, I guess, or maybe a bleached oak? I’ve got some great reclaimed redwood, too, so. The choice is yours.” He shrugged.

I blinked at him. I shifted on the absolutely, positively different couch. I blinked again.

“What?”

Ward blinked back at me. “Bookshelves,” he said.

Bookshelves.

Bookshelves?