Tatum snorted and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t even start. You two weren’t exactly quiet last night either.”
Rhodes’s face darkened further, his jaw flexing.
Tatum only grinned wider. She started up the steps, then paused and turned back dramatically, fixing him with a mock-sultry look. “Yeah, Mr. Broody. Let me worship you—” She puckered her lips in an exaggerated pout, making loud, sloppy kissing noises before kicking the door open the rest of the way and sauntering inside.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing, glancing sideways at Rhodes. His glare softened as he let out a long-suffering groan and shook his head.
Rhodes lifted my chin with a gentle finger, eyes locked on mine, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
“How can you be so sure she’s going to like me?” I whispered against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, voice low and certain. “Because I like you. And I don’t like anyone.”
“That’s not true.”
He only shrugged, that infuriating, irresistible smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. But I like you a whole lot more than anyone else.”
My breath caught, and before I could think of something clever to say back, he stepped aside and opened the door for me.
“Go on,” he murmured.
I hesitated for a heartbeat on the threshold, watching shadows and warm lamplight spill out of the library.
“My father might be the reason I leave the Glade,” Rhodes said quietly behind me, as if confessing something fragile. “But my mother... she’s the reason I always come back.”
The words lingered between us, warm and vulnerable. I swallowed hard, then finally stepped inside—and was immediately wrapped in the library’s sultry, inviting ambiance.
It was two stories, like I’d seen from outside, but the center was open all the way to the ceiling. Bookshelves climbed nearly two stories on three walls, packed with spines of every color and size. My gaze caught on a ceiling-high ladder at one end, perched on a sleek metal track with wheels ready to glide.
The fourth wall wasn’t lined with shelves at all; a white-post balcony railing ran above, with a graceful, twirling staircase leading up to it.
Everywhere, lush green plants spilled from pots and hanging baskets, their leaves glistening in shafts of sunlight filtering through narrow windows tucked between the shelves. The golden light cast dappled patterns on the floors and walls, making the entire space feel alive.
In the main area, shorter shelves were scattered thoughtfully, breaking the room into cozy nooks. One nearby shelf was half empty, with a cart of books stacked high beside it like a promise of work still to be done. Davis and Tatum were already browsing in wide-eyed awe. I caught their hushed murmurs of excitement, but all I could do was stand there, heart thudding, and marvel.
I turned slowly, trying to take it all in—the colors, the smell of old paper and living plants, and…
Coffee.
“There you all are! I just brewed a fresh pot.”
I spun at the voice—smooth, calm, distinctly feminine. She leaned over the balcony railing above us, smiling down like we were old friends.
Her long black hair was a glorious, half-wild tumble of curls, pinned haphazardly up with a quill whose feather stuck out jauntily at the back of her head. The soft light caught in the dark waves, making her look both scholarly and a little untamed.
My shoulders eased at that smile, my fingers tightening around the empty mug in my hand.
She hurried down the spiral staircase, lifting the hem of her flowy skirts to keep from tripping, bare feet flashing on the steps. Her grin widened when her eyes landed on the mug.
“Ah! And you came prepared,” she said with an approving nod, warm and teasing. She rushed straight to Rhodes, rose on her tiptoes, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned into her without hesitation, arms circling her waist in a tight hug.
She beamed over his shoulder at me, pointing playfully in my direction. “You get the first pour.”
His mother led us toward a corner tucked behind a freestanding shelf, waving us on like children on an adventure. We trailed after her in a line, and I rounded the shelf last—straight into a beautifully decorated coffee station.
Two machines, likely powered by elementals here in the Glade, hummed quietly on the counter. Floating shelves held mugs of every shape and size, their colorful glazes catching the slant of light. The space was cozy and dim, save for a single blade of sunlight from a high window, casting a warm glow over it all.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped me. I almost sighed out loud. She grabbed the carafe and turned to me, brow lifted.
