Suddenly, I don’t feel so lonely.
I press my face into his neck like a weirdo, inhaling the scent of honeycomb and spring flowers.
“Garrik,” I sigh. “I missed you.”
He rubs my back in a big circle. “I missed you too.”
I pull back, grinning so hard my cheeks ache. “Is it just me or have you gotten bigger?”
His lips twitch. “Maybe you’ve gotten smaller.”
I swat his arm—which is more like smacking a tree trunk. “Shut up.”
Garrik laughs, a low rumble that I feel resonating in his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a second, looking at me like he’s still trying to figure out if I’m real—like he’s memorizing theshape of my face, the way my arms are slung loosely around his neck.
I get it.
I really, really missed him.
…and then I realize how freaking awkward this is.
I clear my throat and let him go, and Garrik sets me down gently in front of him. I crain my neck to look at him as I step back, ignoring the strange pang in my chest at the lack of contact.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, nudging my hovercart back to life. “I thought you were all settled in with the fam in the Arborium, living your best beekeeper life.”
Garrik’s hands drop to his sides. “Had business near the library.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “Awfully convenient that you have business and run into little old me.”
He smiles. “Figured I would stop by to see an old friend. The librarians were very helpful in pointing me in the right direction.”
“That’s librarians for you,” I nod. “Helpful.”
“Too true.”
“Well,” I put my hands on my hips. “Since you’re here…you may as well help me reshelve some books, huh?”
His golden eyes sparkle. “Sounds good.”
We weave between the endless spirals of bookshelves, following the soft glow of the floating lamps overhead. The library is quiet enough that I can hear the occasional rustle of pages turning, the soft hum of whispered conversations, books sliding off of and back onto shelves. For a few minutes, we walk in companionable silence, with me handing Garrik a book every so often to put on the highest shelves. I hand him a book, he tucks it effortlessly onto the highest shelf, and I pretend I’m not watching the way his biceps flex when he does it.
It’s stupid. He’s always been this big, this effortlessly strong. But something about seeing him here, in the quiet peace of the Grand Library instead of on some battlefield, throws me off balance.
I think back to when I met him…when I was just twenty-two, a kid really, desperate for companionship after I lost my parents in an attack on the New York Public Library. Garrik zoomed in with a squadron of M’mir’i preservationists and he never left my side for ten years.
The best friend I've ever had. Of course I miss him.
I don’t realize I’m staring until he turns his head toward me, catching me in the act. I snap my gaze away, suddenly very interested in the book in my hands.
Garrik is still watching me.
I can feel it—the weight of his attention, the way it lingers.
“Tell me about the Arborium,” I blurt out, desperate for something—anything—to break whatever this is.
Garrik leans against a nearby shelf, arms crossing over his broad chest. “It’s quiet.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
