Page 62 of Falling

What had once been almost all white space except for the craft circle was now a checkerboard of color. I didn’t want to fill every hour, but just this morning I’d already booked two writing groups for Ryder—one for teenagers, which he wanted to facilitate, and one for adults, which he thought would be more of a casual kind of thing. Booker’s weekly storytime was scheduled for Fridays just before noon.

Now I’d have to come up with a booking sheet for the recording booth Dante was already bringing in equipment for.

Just as I finished hashing out details with Hayden, I heard the door opening again…

… and looked up in time to see at least two dozen children streaming through it, with a young woman in a map-print dress heading up the group, and Booker following behind.

He looked good surrounded by kids.

“About those extra library card signups you need,” he said, approaching the desk.

“You brought a whole grade school class for them?” I asked, staring at the sea of tiny people.

Booker chuckled. “This?” he asked, nodding to the kids. “This is just the first class. I’ve got four more lined up. Think that’ll be enough new card signups for you?”

How was he real? How could anyone be this incredible?

“I’m going to die,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the laughter out of my voice. I’d believed Booker when he said we were going to save the library, but I hadn’t had any idea how.

Now, it felt possible. Or at least, it was starting to.

Wow. I hadn’t been looking to be a community librarian, but I understood now why people chose to. This felt good.

“Sink or swim.” Booker shrugged. “And we’ve established that you know how to swim.”

“I’m gonna have to read so many children’s books,” I complained, biting my lip to hide the ridiculous grin my face wanted to split into.

I loved Booker.

I… loved Booker.

Wow.

Well.

Now was not the time to examine that thought.

But it was maybe the most natural one I’d ever had.

“I’ll read them to you,” Booker promised. “Now, get these kids signed up while I go get the next batch.”

“Hey, Book?” I said, brushing my hand over his before he could take it all the way off the counter. “Thank you. For… literally everything you’ve done since the minute we met.”

Booker’s whole face lit up, like that was everything he’d ever wanted to hear.

“Always.”

22

BOOKER

“Hey, can I umm… would it be okay if I…” Miles gestured at an empty square of floor in front of the chair I’d set up in the children’s section for storytime.

There were dark circles under his eyes, he was pale, and he couldn’t seem to keep still. He’d been so busy this week doing everything he could to rescue the library that I’d barely seen him outside of it.

There were a dozen ongoing programs, a new recording booth, what had to be a record-breaking two hundred and fifty-three new cards issued, a complete audit of the library catalogue and a new budget that promised to deliver all that for the same cost as last year.

Miles had worked a miracle in this place. If it wasn’t enough, nothing would be.