“It’s a game where people knock balls into holes in the ground.” He grabs a book and stuffs it into his bag. “Sometimesthe space between the holes is big enough that people had to use the carts to move around the course.”
She frowns. “But what’s the point?”
“Same point as all the other games about shoving balls into holes? There isn’t one. You just do it because it’s a thing to do.”
“How wasteful. Do you think we could find a golf cart in the area? For a backup vehicle?” She flips the pages, spotting a colorful little cart painted red. “I might like to try riding in one.”
He snorts. “You’ll be the first to know if I see one.”
The sound of Emma screaming cuts off any further conversation about the usefulness of golf carts. They already checked each aisle for rotters and cleared the whole building. Didn’t leave anything to chance before Addison allowed her to explore, so that blood-curdling scream catches her off guard.
She races around two bookcases to find Emma face-to-face with a stranger.
Addison’s got her gun out in a split second, ready to shoot this man for coming within arm’s length of her daughter. Wyatt’s pistol, appearing from the side, stopping inches from the stranger’s temple, is the only thing that stops her.
“If you look at my wife and kid again, you’ll be chewing on your own eyeballs,” Wyatt warns.
“Please, I don’t want trouble. I didn’t know anyone else was here. I have a baby with me!”
The red-headed child peeks around his shoulder from a backpack.
Their guns waver.
She can’t be more than a few months old. Just a tiny sack of potatoes strapped to another person, for better or worse. She looks happy enough about the whole thing, smiling like she isn’t in the middle of a standoff.
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for shelter for the night, that’s all,” he pleads, hands up and trembling. “I um, when I was little, my mother and I would come to the library to stay dry and warm. It was a good place back then, so I guess I hoped it still could be.”
“Where’shermother?” Addison’s afraid of the answer.
He lowers his hands in defeat as their guns point toward the ground again. “It’s just me and Samantha now.”
“Does she need some toys? There’s plenty in the corner.” Emma offers, eager to contribute to this encounter.
“That would be nice.” He turns his attention back to Wyatt after Emma leaves to collect a few things. “Thank you. I’m Jeff. We can be outta your hair if you’d rather we leave….”
“It’s fine. This place doesn’t belong to us. If you need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome to it.” Wyatt holsters his gun, so Addison follows suit.
“To be honest, I have another motive in coming here.” Jeff pauses, somewhat bashful. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. She’s my first, and I’m winging it. I was hoping there would be books on how to—”
He stops when Addison snickers.
“That’s why we’re here, too.” She gestures to her belly with a shrug. “The raising part I can do, it’s the birthing part I could use some books on. I think the baby section is two aisles over.”
They pursue rows of books on parenting, and she’s surprised to find Wyatt as eager as the man with a kid on his back.
“How far along?” Jeff asks her, stuffing a book into his bag.
“Not far enough and still too far at the same time,” she sighs.
“Boy or girl? Do you know? Sorry, sorry, I get chatty when I’m nervous, and I’m nervous as hell.”
“It’s okay. I don’t know yet and probably won’t since I can’t get an ultrasound.”
“Oh! We have one! I mean, had…I mean, I…shit.” He rubs a finger in the space between his eyes. “I still say we. I dunno when that stops.”
“You have a machine?” Wyatt cuts in.
