He pulled up the manuscript, cursor blinking in the middle of the next scene that needed to be polished. Wyatt and Eli, shoulders brushing in a cramped kitchen. One reaching for a mug, the other pretending not to notice the way their hands almost touched.
Finn read the last line, hesitated, then typed:
Sometimes, wanting was the bravest thing you could do. Sometimes, it was enough just to stay.
He sat back, letting the words settle. On the page, it was easy to be honest—to let his characters reach for what they wanted, to believe in the possibility of something more. In real life, he wasn’t sure he remembered how.
A buzz from his phone startled him. Keaton’s name lit the screen.
Emergency at Shelf Care Central. Flooded apartment overhead. Do you think you can handle a full assessment in the morning?
Part of Keaton’s plan was to get Finn out of the office more. Finn hadn’t been thrilled by the thought of taking on a project manager role. However, he hadn’t been able to argue when Keaton pointed out that they could hire anyone to run the books, but finding someone who knew what to look for was much harder. And maybe it’d be good for Finn to not spend his days alone in the office with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.
Of course. I’ll be there at eight.
He closed the laptop and set the sticky note—first touch, hope in a storm—beside his keyboard for tomorrow. The weight in his chest felt heavier than usual, as if the quiet pressed in from all sides, reminding him how much he’d given up to keep things steady for Brooklyn.
He paused, fingertips resting on the edge of the desk, and let himself feel it: the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the hope that still lingered in the corners of his heart, stubborn as ever.
TWO
Ollie Jennings had always believed that books possessed a certain magic: the power to transport, to transform, to offer sanctuary from life’s storms. What he hadn’t counted on was their remarkable ability to absorb water.
So much water.
“That’s it. I’m building an ark,” he announced, wringing out his mop for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Water splashed into the already-full bucket, some of it sloshing over the sides and rejoining its brethren on the hardwood floor. He really hoped they’d been able to sop up the water before the floors were saturated to the point they needed to be replaced. “Two of every book genre. The romance section can repopulate once we reach dry land.”
His best friend Jules looked up from where they were carefully blotting the edges of water-damaged paperbacks, their hair frizzing in the damp air. “If you start collecting animals, I’m quitting. I draw the line at cleaning up after metaphorical elephants.”
“Bold of you to assume I’d pick elephants.” Ollie pushed his glasses up with his forearm since his hands were occupied with the mop. They slid right back down his nose a moment later. “If I were going to collect any animal, it’d be otters. They’re basically water puppies. Very on-theme.”
Sam, the other member of their ride-or-die trio, snorted from her position atop a ladder, where she placed a fresh bucket to catch yet another leak that had just made itself known with a gut-wrenching drip onto a display of local history books. Luckily, they’d been able to move those before too much damage was done. “Pretty sure Noah didn’t get to pick and choose based on cuteness factor.”
“Noah didn’t have to worry about Yelp reviews either,” Ollie pointed out, resuming his mopping with renewed determination. “One-star rating: boat smelled like wet lion. Would not recommend.”
The banter helped, but beneath the jokes, Ollie’s chest felt tight with worry. Shelf Care Central wasn’t just a bookstore. It was his family’s legacy, his parents’ retirement plan, and he’d been working hard on turning it into a place people wanted to hang out. And right now, it was taking on water at an alarming rate.
The storm outside was still raging, rain pounding against the windows like it had a personal vendetta against literature. But it wasn’t the rain itself causing the damage. No, that honor belonged to an ancient washing machine in the apartment above the store, whose fill hose had chosen the middle of the downpour to spectacularly fail while the tenants were out. The result was a cascade of water through the ceiling, transforming their carefully curated book haven into something resembling a literary swamp.
The young couple upstairs had called him in a panic just over an hour ago. He’d thanked them and told them it would be okay, even as his brain screamed that this was a tragedy. Then he’d called in the cavalry—Sam and Jules—who’d shown up in record time despite the weather, armed with mops and determination. Jules’s boyfriend, Keaton, was on his way with industrial fans to help dry everything out.
“How’s the poetry corner looking?” Ollie called to Jules, trying to keep his voice light despite the heaviness settling in his stomach.
They grimaced, holding up a paperback whose pages had warped into artistic waves. “Let’s just say Frost would appreciate the irony of water damage.”
“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in flood,” Sam quipped, descending the ladder with careful steps. “Not exactly how the poem goes, but it feels appropriate.”
Ollie’s phone buzzed in his pocket for the third time in twenty minutes. He knew without looking that it would be his parents. They’d been beside themselves when he’d called to break the news, and only his most convincing promises had kept them from immediately driving back in the middle of the night. Maybe he should have waited to call them. This was the first vacation they’d taken in years, and he wanted them to enjoy the week with his aunt.
“I should take this,” he said, propping the mop against a bookshelf and wiping his hands on his already-damp jeans. “Keep bailing, sailors.”
He stepped into the small office at the back of the store, closing the door behind him before answering. “Hey, Mom. Everything’s fine. We’re just?—”
“Oliver James Jennings, don’t you dare tell me everything’s fine when I can hear in your voice that it’s not.” His mother’s concern carried clearly through the phone, warm and worried in equal measure. “Your dad and I are packing now. We can be there in two hours.”
Ollie sank into the desk chair, suddenly aware of his waning adrenaline. The exhaustion hit him all at once, a wave more powerful than anything currently pouring through their ceiling. He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, leaving smudges on the lenses that he’d regret later.
“Mom, seriously, there’s no need. The water’s still coming in, but we’ve got most of the inventory covered. Jules and Sam are here helping. I called Jules as soon as I discovered the leak. They came straight over to help me put plastic over everything, and Keaton’s on his way to the shop right now to get fans.”
