Page 11 of By the Book

“Always,” I nod.

She lifts her coffee cup, resulting in her smile being hidden from me, and I feel like a cloud just blocked my sun. She tightens her coat and makes her way to the door, my eyes remaining trained on her as she leaves the café and disappears into the distance. It’s not until she is completely out of sight that I turn to find Millie watching me intently. I snatch the pastries from her and take a swig of coffee, walking towards the door myself.

“What?” I ask.

There is a knowing smirk plastered on her face as she follows me outside. It’s not until we climb into the patrol car and start our route that she finally replies, “That was interesting.”

“What was?”

“You give me a hard time for how focused I get on Vanessa. But you just completely obsessed over Ivy.”

I wasn’t obsessed, I was lost. Lost in her, I think. I take another drink of coffee, forgetting to notice the new flavor Vanessa had conjured up. Instead, I gulp the hot liquid, attempting to ease the pressure building in my chest.

“And the hair thing. Wicked considerate of you to not want her hair snagged on her coat.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have done that. “Just didn’t want it to pull at her. I’ve known Ivy for years, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know that. Remember, I’ve known youbothfor years? Oh, wait, were you just saying that to make yourself feel better? Sure, it was just sweet of you, Forester. That’s all.” Her tone is smug, but thankfully she drops the conversation.

I crank up the radio and make a point tonotturn my head to look when we drive past The Open Book. And then Millie cranks it back down.

“Hey, thanks for jumping into patrol with me today. It’s nice that you’re not too important to join your old partner.”

A laugh escapes me. “I don’t think I’ll ever be important enough to shake you, Mil.”

“I’m just saying, you’re a good sheriff.”

“With this vandalism happening, you might be the only person with that opinion.” I keep my tone nonchalant, joking. Luckily, she doesn’t see through it.

Chapter 6

Ivy

There’s a simple joy that comes from buying a new book. The cover that speaks to you, the anticipation of the story to come. And I love being the one to connect people with words that were meant for them. It’s at The Open Book that someone might find a new close friend in the pages. Or maybe they are able to feel seen, a piece of themselves represented in a way they haven’t felt with everyday life.

It's these moments I need to remember when I’m doubting myself. These moments that are important. And there were so many happy, eager patrons today to remind me of this.

But it’s the quiet hours at the shop that I treasure the most. When I have the place all to myself. My modest, cozy world.

A melodic Noah Kahan song fills the silence that comes after closing. Alone with my books, music, and pumpkin bourbon candle, I settle in to review numbers and prepare for my next inventory order.

Clicking open the necessary Excel sheet, I scroll to where I last left off. My paranormal romance stock has been flying from the shelf, which I had expected come October. But before I know it, the cozy holiday reads will be in demand.

Starting out, I had been worried about my ability to operate a business that was profitable. I certainly hadn’t prepared myself with business classes in college. But in the end, my love for books, and love for connecting with others about books, proved to be the most valuable aspect of running the shop.

I’m reading a summary about an upcoming release when the sound of shattering glass reverberates through the store. Pausing the music to hear better, I spring up hurriedly. It’s difficult to tell what happens next as the commotion has left a ringing in my ears. My heart threatens to pound from my chest. My brain is frozen, unable to process what could be happening.

I’ve yet to move from where I stand behind the desk when the sound of the front door opening reaches me. The broken glass makes more sense now. Someone is breaking into my shop. The realization chills me to my core. Swiping my phone from my desk, I duck down underneath it.

Tucked tightly away in the hollow under the desk, I try to slow my breathing with no success. Footsteps echo around me and I focus all my attention on determining where they might be.

From the sound of it, the intruder has crossed in front of the windows and stopped, leaving silence in their wake. Then comes a booming crash followed by the sound of something shattering. Footsteps again. Then an identical crash and shatter.

A sob threatens to escape me, and I cover my mouth with my hand. It’s then I remember that I’ve brought my phone under the desk with me. I double check that it’s on silent and slide it open. There is only one person that comes to mind, and I reason with myself that it’s only because he’s the sheriff. It’s logical to be thinking of Tripp at this moment.

I don’t want to run the risk of calling him and the intruder hearing my voice, so I send a text instead.

Ivy

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