Page 90 of The Tattered Gloves
“A month?” I gasped. “How is that even possible? Why would you do that?” Words flew out of my mouth faster than I could process them.
“We’ll be fine,” he assured me, taking a step in my direction.
“But why, Sam? Why risk it?”
“Because no one deserves to succeed more than Addy,” he explained. “She tried to be there for me over the years, but I couldn’t let it go. I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at myself.
Confusion spread across my features. “Why?”
“Because I’d spent so many years trying to forget, but really, I was still back there. Still stuck in that never-ending loop, watching my mother leave and wondering what I’d done to deserve it. This is my chance to make it all right.”
I reached forward, not taking a single moment to second-guess my decision, and grabbed his hands. The slight gasp that fell from his lips told me he was just as surprised as I was. His fingers wove through mine, and I could feel the heat from his hands radiating through the thick knit of my gloves.
Both of us just stood there, staring at our joined hands, unable to speak for a long time.
“Are you sure you’re sixteen, Sam Shepherd?” I found myself finally saying after his words kept bouncing around in my head.
His eyes met mine, and a small smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I could put that sign back on the door, and we could spend a few minutes finding out in the back?”
Instant butterflies attacked my belly as my face went flush.
“Definitely sixteen.” I laughed, still happily holding his hands.
I never wanted to let go.
PAGE TURNERS WAS a flurry of activity over the next couple of days as New Year’s quickly approached. The old saying,It takes a village, was put to the test as tons of volunteers came in to help us. Even Allison made herself available, putting her social networking skills to the test.
“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning against the counter, as I watched her type furiously, her eyes nearly burning a hole into the screen.
“Setting up a Facebook page, Instagram account — stuff like that. I can’t believe Sam never thought of this. No wonder no one knows this place exists. And the website? Don’t even get me started.”
“You seem to know a lot about this,” I said, watching her upload pictures she’d obviously taken while I wasn’t paying attention.
Thankfully, the shop had been cleaned up, books had been stacked neatly, and signs had been made for the upcoming sale. The photos represented days of hard work, and I was proud to know I was part of that.
“Anyone over the age of five could do this,” she replied before amending, “well, except for you.”
My refusal to leap into the social media cesspool my friends all swam in regularly was a constant conversation topic. They just didn’t get it. But then again, they’d been raised on this stuff, given phones and laptops at a time when I was watching reruns on a TV that barely worked.
I just didn’t see the need for it.
I mean, I’d survived this long, right?
But I did have to admit… getting those late-night text messages from Sam? That was more than okay with me. I’d keep my phone around indefinitely just to read those.
“Okay, so I’ve set up the Facebook page and messaged some of the other local businesses and the official town page to see if they wouldn’t mind sharing it to try and up our following. Also, I texted a bunch of people from school with our Instagram info, so we should see a bump there soon. Now, we just need to start promoting.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.”
She smiled brightly. “Glad I could help. I’m going to stick around a bit longer and see if I can get some cute photos to post. Instagram is all about staged photos, so maybe I’ll take a few of the sale books by the window or the store sign? I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”
I left her with her tasks and went to find Sam. He was in the small corner in the front that we’d nicknamed the nook because of its now cozy atmosphere.
With a little help from Addy, we’d managed to find two secondhand love seats for next to nothing. With the stockpile of fabric she’d had at the house and a few hours of labor, we’d recovered them, creating a new seating area for our customers without breaking the bank. A few lamps and a coffee table later, and I could already picture afternoon conversations, book clubs, and friends gathering after school.
“I think this might actually work,” Sam announced as I took a seat on the sofa.
“I hope you’re right. Otherwise…”
