“You all right?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
Avery’s head snapped up, and she met my eyes with worried ones of her own. “What?”
“You don’t seem like yourself today.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cardigan. Then she let out a shaky breath.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “About Bookish closing. It’s eating at me, Flint. This place meanseverythingto me, and I don’t know what I’ll do if it goes under.”
The raw honesty in her voice hit me somewhere deep.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched her arm gently, my palm curving around her soft skin. She went still under my hand, her blue eyes wide as she looked up at me.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “Together. I promise.”
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, her gaze drifted past me to the reading nook, where three tourists sat at the new table with a stack of books piled between them. A preteen girl was tugging on her father’s sleeve, her voice carrying across the quiet store.
“Please, Dad? Can I get seven of them? One for each day of our vacation?”
Her father laughed and said something about needing a bigger suitcase. Then he told her to buy all the books she wanted.
Avery’s lips twitched, and I knew it was hard for her to admit that my idea had worked, but ithad.
Even if Mrs. Clemm of the jelly-spreading clan had huffed out earlier when she discovered the cozy armchairs were gone for good.
“The Mountain Man Romance Book Club meets tonight,” I said, releasing her arm reluctantly. “Would you mind coming back to help me with it? I’m a little…” I searched for the right word. “Outnumbered.”
Avery’s lips curved into the first real smile I’d seen from her all day.
“Intimidated?” she suggested.
“I didn’t say that.” I squared my shoulders.
“You didn’t have to.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and something warm flickered in her eyes. “Yeah, Flint. I’ll come back.”
Chapter 7
Avery
When I came back to Bookish at seven, I expected to find Flint alone behind the register, maybe looking a little lost as he waited for the book club to arrive.
Instead, the store waspacked.
Tourists filled the aisles, their voices creating a cheerful hum that I hadn’t heard in months. A family with three kids gathered in the children’s section while another couple browsed the mystery shelves. An older man in a fishing vest was flipping through one of the local river maps near the front window.
And Flint was in the middle of it all, helping a young mother find picture books while her toddler clung to his leg like he was a jungle gym.
He didn’t seem to mind. He just kept talking to the mom in that low, patient rumble of his while the kid grabbed fistfuls of his jeans.
The magic Flint had cast on Martha Ellis was starting to pay off. Nothing else could explain the influx of people.
Something warm bloomed in my chest at the sight, but it vanished as soon as I saw what had changed since I’d left.
Right by the front door, where the “Locals Station” used to be, there was now an entirely new display.
Flint had moved bookshelves and done a full reset while I’d gone home to take a nap. The man was made of pure energy somehow, and I didn’t understand where it came from.
