Page 52 of Book and Ladder
“This isn’t over,” Emberleigh says. “Not by a long shot.”
I take a deep breath, letting her words sink in. It’s not over. Even if it feels that way.
I gather my belongings, hug my friends, and walk toward the doors of the community center.
Winona practically jogs to catch up with me. “Wait, Daisy! I’ll walk you out.”
I’m about to make a joke about not needing an escort when I practically run headlong into Patrick.
He’s lingering by the entrance when I step outside. His arm raises to catch me as I slam into his chest. I step back, shaking off my anger and humiliation.
I should walk on, but I can’t. Patrick’s staring at me and I’m studying him. He’s a puzzle I can’t solve—the necklace with knots that appear easy to detangle at first glance, but only end up more twisted the harder you try to sort things out.
My mouth moves without consulting my brain. “So tell me, Patrick, how many mom-and-pop shops has your family flattened this week?”
His eyes go wide with surprise.
And apparently, I’m not finished. "Do you keep a scoreboard on your parents’ kitchen wall?”
I kick myself. He probably thinks all I bring to the table is immaturity and hostility. I’m just so weary—and, if I’m being honest, I’m petrified of losing everything that matters most.
Winona shoots me a surprised look. I can’t blame her. I’m never so riled up as when Patrick is within twenty feet of me. His family and their bulldozers get under my skin like nothing else.
Patrick’s neutral expression makes me want to smack his well-defined jawline. He rubs his hand along the stubble on his chin and utters one word. “Ouch.”
Is this a game to him? Does he even care about my future?
I’m about to ask him just that when he raises his brows and leans in just a few inches closer. “For the record, Daisy, I’m more of the stop-the-flames type than one to fan them. I stay out of my family’s projects.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Convenient. You fight fires while they light them.”
Patrick’s lips thin and his eyes narrow. “You make it sound like we’re twirling mustaches in some back room. Theseprojects bring jobs and resources. They’re just stores, Daisy. Not the end of the world.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Just stores? Next you’ll be saying Moss and Maple is just some shelves and paper.”
Patrick takes a full step toward me—close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. And of course he smells like a cup of coffee you sip around a campfire. Ugh. He would smell good. Infuriating. Such a distraction tactic.
He leans just a fraction closer, looking me directly in the eyes. “Careful, book dragon—I wouldn’t dare call your shop shelves and paper. I enjoy living. And, for the record, I like Moss and Maple.”
Book dragon.The old nickname slams into me, straight out of high school. My pulse skips, betraying me. Does he even realize he said it?
“Flattery won’t get you out of this one,” I assure him.
Patrick likes Moss and Maple?
Well, he has a strange way of showing it. He’s aligned with his family—again.
The initial shock of the O’Connells’ attack on my world has ebbed, but not enough to steady my rattling nerves.
Without another word, I turn on my heel, squeezing my eyes shut to stem the tide of threatening tears, and stride to my car.
Not here. Not now. Not in front of Patrick O’Connell.
He’ll never see me break.
Chapter 15
Daisy
