Page 89 of Puck to the Heart
When a call came from a local number as I was browsing the stacks in the public library, I shrieked. The stern librarian, who, despite looking not much older than me, had all the air of an old schoolmarm, aggressively shushed me as I raced through the library to the lobby to answer the call.
* * *
Hey, I’m in town. Can we talk?
Ash
(typing)
(typing)
Watchingthe typing bubble appear and disappear might have been the most nauseating three minutes of my life.
Yeah. Game tonight. Meet me after?
Was he inviting me to the game? Did he mean meet him at his house? What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to ask and press further.
I’ll be there!
But before then, I had another stop to make.
* * *
The dull concretebuilding housing Hurst Labs was especially drab in the cold, cloudy afternoon light when I pulled into the parking lot. A box sat in my passenger seat; I planned to trade a box for a box. All the Hurst Labs notes from working at home and my security badge for a box full of papers and books and sticky notes and pens. After a day of deliberation and waffling—I really,reallydidn’t want to go back—I decided it was best to get the whole ordeal over near the end of the day rather than show up first thing in the morning when all my former coworkers would be arriving.
If I ran into Brad, I couldn’t promise not to make a scene without the threat of repercussions looming overhead.
Since it was after four-thirty p.m., there was a ninety-percent chance he was already gone. I was banking on it when I stepped inside the chilly atrium and waved to the security guard.
We chatted for a few minutes, and the guard apologized, saying I’d have to call up to Hurst Labs to have someone send down my things.
“I’ve got nothing but time, now,” I said drily, and the guard gave me a sympathetic smile.
Settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall, I pulled a book out of my bag, the one Ash gave me for my second hockey game. Opening to my bookmark, I tried to lose myself in the story. Several pages in, the Highlander pulled some idiotic self-sacrificing bullshit thinking he knew best for the lady, without giving her a choice.
It was my least favorite trope, and if I’d been at home, I would’ve thrown the book at the wall. Instead, I glared and flipped pages with a fervor that might have ripped them if I wasn’t careful.
Stupid Highlander. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid,stupid.
I seethed. As more time passed, I grew more and more frustrated at the book and at my situation. How long did it take to bring a box downstairs? It wasn’t like I accumulated much stuff in the time I worked at Hurst Labs. If this was some sort of power play, it made no sense. All it did was serve as yet another irritation from the company I’d hated from the start.
With every page I turned, the security guard glanced up, startled at the aggressive sound.
Making me wait was another sign of their complete disrespect and disregard.
I had somewhere to be. Somewhere much more important.
Nervous energy pitched in my stomach, the beginnings of a storm before it kicked into violent waves. Missing Ash didn’t help. A hollow ache settled between my ribs as if I lost something I hadn’t known existed when he’d pulled away.
But I was prepared, armed with a small flowering ivy plant and a handful of seed packets. The seeds were for any inevitable fuckupsImade, but I thought maybe we could work through them together. Grow something new.
“Ahem.”
I had to resist pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course, Brad had said ‘ahem’ as a word. Of course, Brad was somehow working late the one time I needed him not to. Of course, they senthimdown.
“Oh. Hi.”
Brad leaned his floppy frame across the waist-high security desk, one arm casually draped over the box presumably containing my precious office supplies. It looked like he held it hostage.
