Lance never excelled in school. He got good enough grades to keep his positions on the football and ice hockey teams, but no one ever praised him for his academic efforts. He was one of those kids that matured physically before everyone else, reaching his full height early on in high school. That gave him an athletic advantage, something he clung to well into his adult years.
If he didn’t have sports, whatdidhe have?
“Lance, this isn’t bad news.”
“It kind of feels like it is. I’m part owner of a winter excursion company. How would it look if I can’t even participate in the activities we offer our customers?”
“There are many elements to running a successful business, Lance. Maybe it’s time for you to take over the books, along with the retail side of things. Be responsible for the parts of the operation that don’t involve such a high amount of physical risk.”
It was funny in a way how Lance suddenly felt sick, and it wasn’t even an illness that originally brought him into the doctor’s office to begin with.
“Come on, Lance. Indulge me. Go get yourself a library card and check out a book,” Dr. Franklin instructed. “You never know. You might stumble into a completely new adventure.”
Lance’s truckhissed as he cut off the engine directly in front of Snowdrift Summit’s community library.
He had passed by the building plenty of times, never slowing to truly observe it. To Lance, it was a location reserved for either young children or individuals engaged in research. And in a way, he considered his current situationwasa kind of personal research project. While he remained skeptical that following the doctor’s orders would actually aid in the healing process, he could—albeit begrudgingly—acknowledge the need to take a break and allow his ailing knee to recover. That, at the very least, he could concede.
But what sort of book should he even look for? And how would he go about finding it? He knew back in the day that the card catalog was the method used to look up books and authors, but he figured that archaic sorting system had long since been replaced. There were probably computers used for that sort of thing now. And if he couldn’t figure those out, he supposed he could always ask the librarian for a little assistance, however humbling that might be.
With his keys slipped into his front pocket and a scowl etched on his face, he shut the driver’s side door to his hand-me-down truck and trudged the slushy pathway toward the old brick building. Snow had accumulated along the gutters, clinging to every available ledge of the structure. Even the windows were frosted, much like the seasonal artwork painted on the panes of numerous establishments lining Snowdrift Summit’s Main Street.
Lance wasn’t exactly sure what he would find on the other side of the door apart from a strictly hushed environment and the scent of well-worn books.
He absolutely did not expect to see Sarah Hart standing behind the checkout counter, her big, shock-filled eyes pinning him with a look that read like an audible question.
What on earth was he doing here?
She didn’t even need to say it. Her expression conveyed it loud and clear.
But Lance could ask the same. What was Sarah doing back in Snowdrift? And why hadn’t Holden, her brother and Lance’s best friend, said anything?
“Lance?” Sarah’s loud exclamation flew in the face of everything Lance knew about library etiquette. He half-expected a librarian to hurry over and sternly shush her.
But that didn’t happen because it dawned on Lance that maybe Sarahwasthe librarian.
“You’re back in town?” Lance gripped the back of his neck with his hand and squeezed, suddenly feeling hot despite the frigid temperatures outside.
“I am.” She nodded. Her hands glided over the arms of her cozy, plum-colored wool sweater, rubbing the soft texture between her fingers before moving down and fidgeting with the flowing fabric of her maxi skirt. The skirt was printed with delicate, small flowers in shades of pink and purple, a pattern that had been her signature style since she was a young girl. Something about that made Lance smile. Sarah always did love flowers. “I just accepted a part-time position here.”
That grin quickly flattened into a line.
Why had Lance been left in the dark about this? He would have been irritated if the sight of Sarah hadn’t completely taken his breath away. He’d known her for years, back when that beautiful smile of hers was filled with metal braces and frecklesdanced across the bridge of her pert nose. Back then, he hadn’t had a proper crush on her; instead, he felt a sense of brotherly responsibility, especially the year she’d been stood up at their homecoming dance by some pimply-faced kid named Travis. Despite having his own date that night, Lance made sure to save the last dance for Sarah. In fact, looking back, it was his favorite memory from the entire evening. Holding her small waist in his hands, swaying side to side to a song playing on the speakers that seemed to understand more about love than he had at that age. Maybe even more than he grasped now.
Lance shook his head, tossing the memory aside.
“I’m sorry.” The space between his brows creased as they tugged together in confusion. “I’m just having a hard time processing this. That you’re actually back.”
“There wasn’t anything left for me in Sacramento,” she admitted like there was shame in that confession.
Suddenly, that protectiveness reared its head again, and Lance felt his own fingers curl into his palms as frustration welled up. He had been protective of Sarah in their youth even though she was two years older in school, but when she moved to the city to follow some guy she’d met online, he had lost that right. And just a few years later when Darren abandoned both Sarah and their newborn baby, Lance felt like the world’s biggest failure as a friend. Witnessing Sarah’s heartbreak secondhand had gutted him.
Honestly, he had half-expected her to reconcile with her ex. Lance assumed that was why she’d gone back to Sacramento last year after the holidays. To see if she could make things work with the father of her child.
Lance had briefly entertained the hope that something might blossom between himself and Sarah. They had shared a few casual dates and spent several evenings partaking in the town’s Christmas traditions, hand in hand. But when Sarahreturned to the valley, Lance figured he was just some holiday fling. And his pride prevented him from processing the hurt and disappointment that he’d felt when their brief relationship quietly came to a close.
After a prolonged stretch of silence, during which Lance wondered if Sarah was also lost in her own memories, she finally asked, “I take it you’re looking for a book?”
He just nodded. Lance couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. He certainly couldn’t scour the aisles for a novel unattended.
