by Olivia Dade
“I know,” he said. “Do you feel happier when you do?”
She paused, thinking hard about how to answer his question honestly. Wondering why she hadn’t asked herself that question before, instead of blindly charging forward to wherever her instincts led. “Yes and no. I love my life. Really. God knows, I enjoy it much more than I did when I tried to please my parents. But sometimes when I’ve acted recklessly . . .”
He waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts and find the right words.
“It hurts too. My parents’ disapproval hurts. Tina’s disapproval hurts. The thought of getting fired hurts. It hurts when I find myself isolated.”
“Isolated?” He looked closely at her. “Why?”
“People turn away from you when you disappoint them. It’s why I haven’t let many people too close, because it hurts when they walk away. But I’ve always accepted that pain as inevitable. I’ve always thought it was the price I needed to pay for my freedom to do what I want, when I want to do it. The price I needed to pay for joy in my life.”
He stroked her cheek with a single gentle finger. “That sounds lonely.”
She took a shaky breath. “It is, sometimes. But I try not to show it.” “You protect yourself.”
She nodded.
“You pretend you don’t care. That you’re not hurting. You’re a proud woman, and so you put on a brave face.”
That brave face was cracking by the minute. She swiped at her eyes, his words and her own tearing through her. Right now, she didn’t know whether the sharp sting meant the discussion was hurting or healing her. Or both.
He reached across the table and took her hand. “I don’t want you to suffer, either because you make impulsive decisions or because you’re stifling who you really are. So my question is: Can you figure out how to channel your recklessness in ways that won’t isolate or hurt you in the end? Without feeling like you’re betraying yourself?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “Anytime I’ve ever tried to follow what someone else wanted, it felt like being buried alive.”
“I’m not asking you to follow what anyone else wants. I’m asking you to consider everything you want before you make decisions. That includes not just your instincts, but your work. Your friends. Love.”
It sounded so reasonable when he said it. Of course, she’d spent most of her life running from anything that seemed too reasonable, so she wasn’t sure that was a point in his favor.
He leaned forward. “I don’t even believe our instincts are that different, by the way. You think we’re opposites, right? I follow logic, while you follow your gurt?” He indicated the both of them with a sweeping gesture of his free hand.
“That sounds about right,” she said.
“I disagree. I think we share most of the same drives. We both believe in hard work. Education. Loyalty. Family. Organization. Kindness. And just look at how I’ve acted the last few days. We’re not that dissimilar, really.”
She stared at him, unable to take in everything he’d said.
“That’s all I wanted to say. I’ve gathered my data and analyzed it. My conclusion: You’re a strong, intelligent woman. You can find a way to reconcile your instincts and your need for a life with work and people you love.”
“What if I don’t?” she asked. “What happens with us?”
“I care about you. That won’t change. I just hate the thought of you hurting unnecessarily if you lose your job. I hate the thought that you’re hiding yourself from me and from the world, when who you are is amazing. Beautiful, inside and out.”
Grant gave her hand one last squeeze and got up from the table. “I hate that we’re at work,” he said, looking frustrated. “I want to hold you, but I can’t. Not here. I’m sorry I can’t comfort you like I should.”
“Tonight,” she said. To be honest, she was glad he couldn’t get too close. It felt like she might shatter if he held her. She needed time alone.
As usual, Grant seemed to understand. “I’m going to help Penny out front. Take some time to think about what I’ve said. I don’t expect you to come to any immediate conclusions. Just let it percolate. If you’re willing to, we’ll talk about this again in a couple of days.”
The door shut softly behind him. The moment she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she buried her face in her hands and struggled to hold back tears.
Being known felt like a miracle. But it also hurt like hell.
23
Grant stared at a screen full of numbers on the Battlefield workroom computer, but didn’t see a single digit. Instead, he remained hyper-aware of Angie making her early morning rounds through the library, turning on computers, checking the book drop, and preparing the community room. The two of them had arrived over an hour early so she could prepare for the holiday programs today.
Penny had planned a special Valentine’s Day storytime for the morning, one where the kids would decorate cards for their parents and paint heart-shaped piggy banks for themselves. In the afternoon, Angie was showing romantic movies in the community room. Much to his surprise, she hadn’t chosen a single objectionable film, despite her extremely vocal affection for Secretary and Fifty Shades of Grey. Instead, library patrons would be feasting on popcorn and heart-shaped cookies as they watched classics like It Happened One Night and newer favorites like The Notebook.
Various displays around the library highlighted books about love and romance, including nonfiction works exploring the science of attraction. And Mary had really decked out the library in preparation for the holiday. Red and white streamers hung from the ceiling and the shelves, little Cupid cutouts were taped to the walls, and baskets of chocolate hearts sat on various tables throughout the public spaces.
Jesus. He could hardly believe it was Valentine’s Day already. He could hardly believe he finally had someone to celebrate the holiday with him, someone he adored beyond reason. Having Angie in his life had made every day—hell, every minute—better. He couldn’t imagine life without her at this point. Didn’t want to, either.
But a significant amount of frustration and worry tempered his joy. He wanted to take Angie out to eat at a romantic restaurant, but he couldn’t acknowledge their relationship in a public setting. He wanted to spend the day showing her how much he worshipped her, but they were both working. They’d agreed to keep their hands off of one another on library grounds, so he couldn’t even give her a kiss as she passed through the workroom.
Sure, he’d already presented her with flowers and a substantial gift card, so she could fill her e-reader with as much smut as humanly possible. In return, she’d given him a lovely card, an upgraded version of Excel, and a book on making balloon animals. “In case we don’t use all the condoms before they expire,” she’d explained with a smirk. They planned to cook a romantic dinner together as soon as they got home. And she didn’t know it, but he had a special gift waiting for her at his house. A necklace with an emerald as bright and green as her eyes. Bold and lovely and a little bit flashy, just like her.
But it still seemed . . . incomplete. Even after less than a week as a covert couple, he was sick of hiding. Today of all days, he needed to claim Angie as his own with all the pride he felt. Pride that she’d picked him. Him. A woman as vibrant and wonderful as Angie wanted him.
It seemed like a miracle. They’d spent every night together since last Friday. Although he made his rounds at the other branches, he always started and ended his day at Battlefield, so they saw each other a good chunk of each day too. She smiled at him. Told him she cared about him. Laughed at and with him. Made love to him when they got to one of their homes.
Everything seemed great between them. Given the circumstances, as perfect as possible.
But he knew something was wrong. Those telltale lines on her forehead hadn’t left for days, except in her sleep. Sometimes not even then. On those nights, he’d sometimes wake up to find her sitting on his couch in the dark, resting her chin on her knees, her arm
s wrapped around the package she’d made of her body. He’d urge her back to bed, back into his arms, and she’d eventually fall asleep. But then he’d stay awake, wondering. Worrying.
Exactly what was bothering her, he couldn’t say for sure. The strain of keeping their relationship a secret surely wore on her, as it did on him. He didn’t think the source of her distress would prove that straightforward, though. With Angie, he’d found, few things did.
On multiple occasions, he’d asked her to tell him what was upsetting her. Questioned if he’d made her angry. If she regretted their relationship. Each time, she cuddled close and told him nothing was the matter. She wasn’t angry. She was committed to their relationship. She wanted him however she could get him. Each time, he couldn’t see a single sign she was lying to him. But then again, pinpointing lies didn’t come easily to him.
They hadn’t yet addressed the conversation about her job and her impulsiveness from two days ago. Maybe he’d pushed her too hard, too soon.
He sighed. What he needed was a distraction. Glancing at the clock, he saw that Battlefield didn’t open for fifty-five more minutes. Officially, his workday hadn’t even started.
“Angie?” he called out. “Do you remember that website Mary showed us last week? The one with the hilariously terrible family photos?”
She strode into the room, looking harried. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Do you remember the name of it?”
“Nope. You can Google it, though, or look at our browser or search history. If it requires a password, the library’s default one is taped to the top right of the screen.”
“Very secure,” he teased.
At that, she smiled. “Well, we thought sticking a note in a fake rock on top of the CPU would be just as obvious. Not to mention a lot less convenient.”
She glanced around, and then gave him a quick kiss before heading back out to the main library. Moments later, the phone rang, but neither of them answered it. Both knew: If librarians started answering the phones before or after business hours, they’d never get anything done.
The answering machine clicked on, and Angie’s warm voice filled the workroom. “You’ve reached the Battlefield Branch of the Nice County Public Library. Our operating hours are Monday through Friday from ten to seven, and Saturday from ten to two. Please leave us a message, and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.”
After a long beep, a familiar female voice came over the speaker. “This is a message for Angie. Angie, it’s Brenda. I wanted to tell you how thrilled I was when I got your e-mail yesterday about winning the contest. Jack is horrified, of course, but I told him to get over it. He had to get his writing talent from somewhere, after all.”
Grant frowned. Odd. Brenda hadn’t won the Facebook contest. A young couple who’d met on a hike had won. The woman had stumbled across the man, who’d been badly injured by a fall on a tough mountain trail. She’d helped save his arm. The story was fascinating, though a bit gory for Grant’s taste. Lots of descriptions of blood splatter. Nevertheless, the post had received the most likes and won the contest. He’d even seen Angie’s note on the library’s home page congratulating them.
“I knew a story about a rock star who liked to be domina—” A low masculine murmur interrupted Brenda, and she stopped talking. After a few seconds of indecipherable whispers, she continued. “Never mind. I must have been confused.” Her voice lowered to an apologetic whisper. “Sorry, Angie.”
The message ended. Grant stared at the answering machine, considering the new data. Brenda didn’t strike him as a woman who got confused easily. Particularly not so confused that she’d fabricate an e-mail about a rock star from thin air.
He turned back to the computer, unable to put the pieces together. Had he forgotten about a Valentine’s Day contest involving rock stars?
Whatever. He could ask Angie about it later. With a mental shrug, he decided to look for the website Mary had shown them last week. A basic Google search showed millions of results for “terrible family photos,” the first few of which he didn’t recognize. Looking through each of them would take forever. Longer than he had before the library opened and he officially started his workday.
He contemplated surfing the most promising sites to find the one Mary had shown him, but decided against it. Checking the browser history would go faster. So he clicked the star on the top right of the screen and brought up a list of all websites visited in the past week. Mostly sites for elementary school teachers and homeschoolers. Now that he thought about it, Penny had spent a good chunk of time these last few days looking up crafts for St. Patrick’s Day.
But there was an odd string of sites from about a week ago . . .
Erotic Excerpts? Why had someone in the library been looking at that? And what about the website for Spank It Stories?
He closed his eyes. Please, not Angie. Even with all her recklessness, surely she knew better than to look at those sorts of websites on the library computer. But who else could it be? He couldn’t picture Mary checking out these web pages, for God’s sake. Penny either. And he knew he hadn’t looked at anything like that. So unless someone had broken into the library for the specific purpose of opening questionable websites on the workroom computer, Angie remained the only reasonable culprit. Which meant they’d have to have a talk about professionalism, God help him. Confronting her about work was the absolute last thing he wanted to do, especially since she already seemed so tense.
Don’t jump to conclusions, he told himself. Gather a little more data.
So he took Angie’s advice and used the library password to check the Google search history. What he saw there . . . he couldn’t explain it. “The spell she cast hardened his cock into granite”? What the fuck? Why had she—or someone else—oh, who was he kidding; it was definitely Angie—searched for random erotic phrases? Weird ones, at that?
Shit. He couldn’t ignore this. He needed to ask her what the hell was up with her computer searching and browsing history. “Angie!” he called in the direction of the main library. “We need to talk!”
“Coming!” she yelled back. “Give me a minute!”
The phone rang again. After four rings, the answering machine picked up. This time, a man spoke after Angie’s message.
“Ahoy, matey! This be Clarence. Just wanted to give ye some hearty pirate appreciation for reading this old salt’s writing. Yarrr, I be disappointed not to win the Valentine’s Day sex-scene contest with me tale of plundering and booty, but I wanted ye to know I’ll enter again next year. Fernando’s buccaneerin’ adventures will continue, never ye fear! Arrrggh!” Clarence hung up, and the workroom became silent once more.
Suddenly, all the conflicting information that had confused Grant fell into place. A Valentine’s Day sex-scene contest. Which this faux pirate had obviously not won, but Brenda had. Which explained Brenda’s question about the posters with the shining flesh. Which explained the odd phone conversations Angie seemed to have so frequently. Which explained the blank walls and mountain of shredded paper he’d noticed during his first visit to Battlefield. Which might very well explain the odd Internet activity he’d seen.
Which explained why he couldn’t seem to dismiss the idea that Angie was hiding something from him. Because she was. Something that could get them both fired.
He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, Angie stood in the doorway, her face bleached of color and her hands twisting around each other anxiously. She’d clearly heard the message too.
Rising from in front of the computer, he moved over to the workroom table and took a seat in a rolling chair. Very carefully, he set his hands in front of him on the table. For the first time in over a week, he felt as if his brain had clicked into gear. The body-snatcher had left, and the Grant he knew and recognized had fully regained control.
He gestured to the seat across the table from him, and Angie sat down.
“Grant, I don’t know how to expl—”
“So there’s a second Valentine’s Day contest, I take it. One that asked patrons to write sex scenes for their public library.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she sagged back in her chair. He thought that her rapid blinking and bright eyes indicated she was fighting tears, but who knew? He apparently couldn’t read Angie with any sort of accuracy. There was no point in his instinctive response to her distress. No point in wanting to hold her, comfort her, when he didn’t even know her that well.
“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I’d already advertised it before I met you. Since then, I swear, I haven’t done anything objectionable.”
“You lied to me. During our first meeting, I specifically asked whether there was anything worrisome coming down the pike. Anything I should know about. You said no. And you’ve lied to me countless times since then, trying to cover up the contest.”
“That wasn’t our first meeting,” she said. “Remember?”
He shoved back the vivid memory of seeing Angie by the side of the highway and marveling at how alive she seemed. How bold and lovely.
“All that is irrelevant now.”
Angie sucked in a breath that sounded like a sob. “You asked me whether I had anything else to tell you, but then you said you were obligated to inform Tina of any misdeeds. That your job depended on it. You said after one more incident, I’d lose my job. So how could I tell you, Grant?”
“You could tell me because it was the truth. Because adults face up to the consequences of what they’ve done.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. “So, according to you, I should have told you about the contest and just resigned myself to unemployment? That’s what you think I should have done? Even though you’ve seen how much I love my job and how hard I work to make my branch successful?”
“I might not have told Tina,” he said, his voice rising. “You didn’t give me a chance to protect you.”
“No,” she shot back, “because I was protecting myself and you. If you’d decided not to report me, you’d have endangered your job. Because I didn’t tell you, no one can hold you responsible for what I did. If I get caught by Admin, I’ll swing, but I’ll swing by myself. Not with you.”