Page 19 of Home Safe

I huff a small laugh. “You could say that. I suppose being a fan of books is a prerequisite to becoming a librarian,” I say, letting go of some of my apprehension. “Do you like to read?”

Griffin’s smile tightens. “Can’t say I’m a big reader.”

“Oh,” I say before pursing my lips. “I suppose you don’t have a lot of free time with your baseball schedule. Do you ever listen to audiobooks?”

“Nah, I prefer music or sports podcasts,” Griffin replies.

The apprehension starts welling up again.There goes my one easy topic of conversation. I turn to stare out the window.

“How long have you been a librarian?” Griffin asks.

“This is my fourth year, but I was a classroom teacher before that for five years. I started taking master's classes immediately during my first year of teaching because I knew my goal was to become a librarian,” I say. Griffin is nodding and glancing over at me as often as is safe while focusing on the road. “I was lucky that the librarian at the school where I was teaching retired and they offered the position to me. A lot of librarian hopefuls have to wait a lot longer for positions to open up.”

“What made you want to be a librarian instead of a classroom teacher?” he asks.

“Clearly, I love reading. Books have always been my most faithful and trusted companions,” I reply quickly, then back away from walking further down that deeply personal explanation path. “I know how much books shaped my childhood, and I’ve always loved the idea of instilling that same love for reading in young kids. Time spent reading as a child is one of the biggest indicators of success later in life,” I say, watching Griffin’s reaction. He’s focused on the road, but every glance my way is filled with genuine interest, encouraging me to continue. “But library isn’t only about loving books—it’s about teaching critical thinking skills, even research tools. And it’s about providing a safe space for all kids, no matter what they have going on in their lives outside of the school walls.”

“That’s how you met Jason, at school? At least, he told me you were his teacher before you were his mom,” Griffin says. My heart seizes at the thought of Jason saying those words.

“Yes. I wasn’t his classroom teacher because his first year at our school was my first year in the library. But we bonded right away when he visited the library almost daily to exchange books. Most first graders only come in on their designated library day, but Jason was there every day that his teacher would let him come. That first year, when the staff began noticing some of his behavior struggles, I started taking him on a weekly walk around the school hallways during one of my planning periods. It was a good way to give him a break from the classroom setting and ask him questions about how he was doing. He always came bounding out of the classroom when I stopped by to pull him out.” The corners of my lips turn up at the memory, and when I look over, Griffin quickly turns his eyes back to the road. His lips mirror mine, though.

Ask him a question, Danae! You were brought up with better social skills than this!

“So, um, how long have you played baseball?” I tentatively ask.

Griffin laughs. “I’ve played almost all thirty-three years of my life,” he says, still chuckling. He glances at me, a tease in his expression. “But that’s probably not what you were asking. This will be my seventh season starting for the Crowns. I played on their farm team for four years before that.”

“Is that a long time to stay with the same team?” I ask.

He shrugs a shoulder. “Yes and no. Some players get traded around a lot more frequently, but it’s not unheard of to stay with one team for your whole career. I’ve loved my experience with the Crowns, so I’ve always asked my agent to come to an agreement on contract extensions. He hasn’t been thrilled about my lack of desire to chase the highest paycheck, but I’d rather have the stability and camaraderie of sticking with the team. Plus, I really like living in Kansas City.”

We pull into the shopping center where the bookstore is located, and Griffin finds a parking spot.

“Um, so, I’m not sure what you’re planning to do while I’m here, but . . .” I trail off.

Griffin twists in his seat to face me. “I figured I’d come in with you and join the discussion,” he says evenly.

My heart leaps in my chest. “Oh, please no,” I reply, my voice breathy.

Griffin’s face breaks out in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. How long is the meeting?”

I exhale. “I’m sorry—that was so rude of me. I didn’t mentally prepare myself to see you tonight,” I say, then blush further at my confession. “We usually talk for about an hour and a half. I can come out and look for you in the parking lot, I guess?”

“I’ll find you,” he says, eyes locked on mine.

I swallow hard and open the door. My heart is still racing as I mumble, “See you.”

Why are you acting like such a bumbling idiot, Danae? Just because the man is famous doesn’t mean you should be falling all over yourself. You don’t like baseball. You don’t care about this man.

My body needs to stop acting like I care about this man.

“The way she wanted to be buried with her husband—it was too much! I couldn’t hold back the tears!” Anna says, dabbing her eyes. Our circle of eight book club members nods in solidarity with her. I’ve had towipe my own eyes a time or two during our discussion. We sit on an eclectic mix of chairs and the green velvet sofa that Christin has collected over the years for the store. Being surrounded by so many shelves and table displays of books creates the ideal setting for a cozy chat about a novel.

The bell above the door dings, and Christin, the owner of the bookstore, calls out, “Let me know if you need any help! We’ll be wrapping up our book club meeting soon.” Anna continues on with her train of thought, but I’m distracted when I realize who just walked into the bookstore.

Griffin.

Glancing at my watch, I see that we’re nearing the two-hour mark of our discussion. Which means I’m pushing Jason’s bedtime and need to leave.Of course, my first evening away from Jason and I totally lose track of time. Will he ever be comfortable with me leaving again, or will he feel like I broke a promise? Will Samantha even want to babysit again after I didn’t come home when I said I would?

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