Careful. Don’t let warmth turn into heat.
“Good morning,” I say, shoving the thought away from me before it can develop.
“Morning,” he answers. “Did you need a ride to work today, or is Lacey taking you?”
“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay. I’m not doing as many extra hours at the moment.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll just grab my keys.”
I watch Owen leave the room, feeling a strange tangle of emotions warring in my belly.
I wanted him to give me space, but now, when he gives it to me, I feel like it’s a brush-off. Get your shit together, Trina!
The little pep talk does very little to settle my emotions, and by the time Owen returns, I’m even more confused than I was before. We drive into town immersed in our usual silence, and I can’t even tell if it’s awkward or not.
It was better when I was angry with him. Everything was simple. Now I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
“Can you get a ride home?” Owen asks as we pull up in front of the museum. “I’ve got a few things to do today, and I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“No problem,” I reply. “I’ll see you later.”
Owen waves as I get out of the car, and as he pulls away, I feel a hollow ache behind my heart.
Stop it.
Sighing, I head inside and say hi to Sadie and Lacey. The museum is still preparing for the upcoming event, and Fern is having another meeting with the co-partner. All of us are too busy to sit around and gossip, which I’m grateful for. After greeting my friends, I go out to the main library to organize the history section.
I’ve only been there a few minutes when someone comes in. I hide behind one of the stacks, wondering if I’m mentally stable enough for basic human interaction. I remind myself that this is my job, and that our co-partner—Angela—will be extremely pissed with Fern if any of us aren’t doing our best.
Holding in a sigh, I try to summon a smile as I walk into the next aisle. A short, pretty woman turns to me, her eyes bright with excitement.
Oh no. Interaction imminent.
“Hi!” she says, enthusiastically. “Do you work here?”
“Yes, I do,” I reply. “Can I help you?”
“You most certainly can,” she says, looking up at the bookshelves. “I seem to have gotten quite lost in here. I’m looking for town history.”
“Well, you’re in the right place,” I reply, smiling despite myself. “What were you after, specifically?”
“Founders records,” she says, her grin widening. “I moved here a couple of months ago, and I’m just fascinated by the lore. I’m Hyacinth, by the way.”
“Trina,” I reply, giving her hand a brief shake. “I’ll take you over to the reference section. These are the books available to the public. There are some others in the museum section, and we have transcripts of those because we aren’t supposed to let people handle them.”
“Oh, I understand,” Hyacinth says, following me towards the reference books. “But I do think that you can’t get a real impression of history from a transcript—and who says the scribe recorded it right?”
“You got me,” I reply, laughing. “I’ve said the exact same thing myself. It’s the burden of history.”
“Indeed,” Hyacinth says, putting on a pair of reading glasses as we stop by the stacks. “That’s why I do as much research as possible, to try and get an objective view.”
“Is this for study, or work?” I ask.
“No!” she scoffs. “Definitely not work. I’m actually a baker up at Sweet Stuffs, the little place on the corner.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “I know the place. This is just a hobby, then?”
“An obsession,” Hyacinth says in a stage whisper. “I’m a sucker for magic, witches, and wolves, aren’t you?”
