Page 40 of The Tattered Gloves
I’D NEVER BEEN to the bookshop during the weekend. It was odd, walking up to the old storefront, knowing I wasn’t there for work.
I felt a little out of place.
Especially when I realized how busy it was.
Stepping inside, I looked around and found people — actual, real live people!
What the heck?
“Can I help you?” the woman at the counter asked.
“I’m Willow. I work in the afternoons during the week,” I explained.
I knew we had another employee, besides Diana, who helped during the weekend hours, but I’d never met her. She was younger, maybe early twenties, and cute — in a bookish sort of way. Her large black-rimmed glasses only brought out the natural caramel color of her eyes and highlighted the freckles along her cheeks.
“Oh, right! Sorry. I’m Sophie, Sam’s sister. He told me you’d be coming in.”
Sam has a sister?
I guessed I really didn’t know anything about him.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t misread his cryptic text.
“In the back, as usual.” She smiled.
“Right. Thanks,” I replied, turning toward the shelves.
“Oh, and, Willow?” she called out, stopping me in my tracks. “It was nice to finally meet you.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to her meaning, but I nodded nonetheless.
“You, too,” I said, not wanting to be rude. I didn’t want to explain that I hadn’t known she existed until today. That’s kind of harsh.
And I was all done with being Bitchy Willow.
Or, at least, I was trying to be.
Today would be my first test.
Making my way past the shelves, I did my usual thing and trailed my fingertips along the spines. Figuring I wasn’t doing any damage with my gloves, I’d made it a habit whenever I passed through. Sometimes, I would slow down, pull one from its place, and read the back. I’d either neatly return it to its spot, or I would set it aside and make myself a note to purchase it when payday rolled around.
Today, there would be no stopping however.
I had a feeling I was—
“You’re late, Mittens,” Sam’s booming voice said the second I pushed through the door that led to the small stockroom.
I glanced up at the clock. It was two minutes past three. I resisted the need to roll my eyes.
I’d never met someone who was so obsessed with time.
“I met your sister on the way in. Seems she knows all about me,” I said, dropping my backpack on the floor beside a shipment of books that had just come in. I peeked at the side to see what title it was, hoping it was the one I had been waiting for.
Sadly, it wasn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam watching me, his dark brown hair falling in front of his face, as he tapped his pencil on a yellow notepad.
“I mentioned you would be here.” He shrugged.
