Page 23 of One Small Spark
I freeze mid-slice. “He volunteers at the library?”
“Oh, yes. He started out just shelving books, but we’ve had a program for the last few years to help middle school boys improve their literacy. Reading with young men like Shepherd makes them feel cool and accepted, and the books boost their vocabulary. It’s an informal mentorship situation, too, if the turnaround in Jackson Donaldson’s behavior is any indication.”
“That’s really…something.”
I can’t say much else. If it were Hope or Tess, I’d think they were making it up just to get a rise out of me. But Rosetta’s so earnest in her praise of Callahan, I can’t question it.
He volunteers at the library? With kids? He’s a voracious reader? What?
I ring her up, still reeling from this new information. It’s not like I thought he was a monosyllabic goon, but that and library volunteer are at two very different endsof the spectrum.
She takes the pie, and her smile turns devious. “Who wouldn’t want to read with that man, am I right?”
Rosetta walks out, leaving my imagination running wild with scenarios of Callahan reading tome. I blame Lila and her Adonis boyfriend. Right after they started seeing each other, she told us how he read to her on the camping trip where they met—and still reads to her practically every night.
A vivid image barrels into my head and parks there: Callahan and me lounging on a couch, his long legs tangled with mine, my head on his chest while he reads a book aloud. My heart pounds a frantic beat, endorsing this imaginary plan.
Tess slides closer to me. “You left a lot out of your description of your new book group.”
Yes. I did. I already heard Hope’s “I think you’ve got him all wrong” speech, I didn’t need to listen to another.
I take a big step backward. “I think it’s time for my break.”
Tess’s mouth quirks. “That’s convenient.”
“And mandatory by law. So.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just going to…”
Escape, is what I’m going to do.
SEVEN
WREN
I need air.Something is wrong with me. My lungs refuse to fully commit to their job. I walk through the back of the bakery, past our industrial ovens and massive refrigerators, until I’m out the door and in the alley. I just need a second to process this new information, take a breath, and then forget about it forever.
Except, I can’t. How can I when Callahan himself is in the alley, tossing broken-down cardboard boxes into the giant blue recycling bin we share.
No. Ourbusinessesshare them.Wedon’t share anything.
He looks over and catches me staring. Normally, this results in a smirk. Most things I do result in his smirk, but staring especially. He has an uncanny knack for catching me, and it always results in that curl along his lips.
Not this time. Today, he looks stricken, like the sight of me makes him…I don’t know what. I’m not a mind-reader. Alarmed, maybe.
He stops chucking cardboard into the bin and stalks closer. “Are you okay?”
Ugh. His deep voice isn’t supposed to be all tender and gentle. Not when I’m weirding out over him.
“I’m fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I just needed some fresh air.”
We’re going to ignore the fact that I’m standing feet away from the trash bins, and the delicious but powerful smells from the Mexican restaurant farther down the street make the air here anything but pristine.
He takes another, more tentative step closer. “Are you sure? You seem out of sorts.”
What is this? Callahan, concerned about me? I must have stepped through a portal into a parallel universe where he’s actually a decent guy.
I tilt my chin higher. “This is how I always look.”
“No, it isn’t. Usually, you’ve got more spark in your eyes. Today, you look…” He pauses to examine me like I’m a piece of art. Or a crime scene. “You’re upset. Confused, maybe. I want to say afraid.”
