Page 6 of Broken Hearts

“I love you too, Dad,” I respond in a whisper, the weight of what I almost did—what I almost took from him—pressing down on me. “And I’ll try to visit soon, I promise.”

“We’ll have your favorite chocolate chip pancakes,” he offers, a peace offering to both our hearts.

“Sounds perfect. Bye, Dad.” Ending the call, I take a moment, my hand trembling a little. The memories, still vivid, cast a shadow over my heart. I inhale deeply, steadying myself against the wave of emotions.

Glancing back at the phone in my hand, it serves as a reminder of the man who would have been shattered had I gone through with my plan a year ago. The guilt is a stone in my stomach, but it’s also a reminder—a promise to myself and to him—that I will never wander that close to the edge again.

Another deep, steady breath helps to dispel the darkness and guilt. What is done is done. I can’t change the past, but I can concentrate on the future.

With a renewed sense of determination, I push open the library doors and step into the tranquility, letting the scent of old books wash over me, grounding me in the now. My past may be a shadow, but it won’t darken my present, not with so much light left to give.

I settle at my usual table in the far alcove, somehow feeling like I am in my private little nook. A quick glance at my watch tells me there are about twenty minutes before Poppy arrives. Deciding to use this time efficiently, I stand to gather the books we selected last week.

Weaving through the narrow path between the ceiling-high bookshelves, the solitude of the library’s far end envelops me. The Roman history section, predictably, is tucked away in the quietest corner. I reach for a book high above, my five-two frame stretching on tiptoes, fingertips grazing the spine yet falling just short.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks the silence. “Let me grab that for you.” Before I can react, Cole’s presence is behind me, a wall of heat and tension. His body presses lightly against my back as he effortlessly retrieves the book. His breath is warm against my ear. “See, you need me, Angel.”

Every muscle tenses, coiled tight. Swallowing the knot of panic and unwanted arousal, I turn, meeting his piercing blue eyes. A surge of emotions battles within me—pain, fear, longing—all colliding in a chaotic storm.

“Do you remember what you and I used to do in the dark corners of the library?” His voice drops to a purr, each word curling around me like smoke, thick with unspoken promises.

Summoning every ounce of detachment possible, my reply is flat, practiced. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Despite the controlled tone, my heart betrays me, thudding wildly against my rib cage.

He rests his arm above my head and leans in, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, his gaze intense. “Really? Maybe I should remind you.” His closeness is overwhelming; his scent, a mix of something woodsy and familiar, infiltrates my senses.

For a moment, I’m transported back to a time when his proximity was my solace, not my torment. But that time is gone now. It’s a specter of a past I can’t afford to revisit.

Stepping back, I create a necessary yet thin barrier of air between us. “I think you have me confused with someone else,” the words come out steadier now.

“Oh, maybe I’ll kiss you then and see if you make that little noise you used to make when I—”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

Poppy’s voice feels like a relief as his eyes flash with annoyance.

His gaze flicks to her for a mere second before returning to me, fixating on my lips as if drawn by a magnet. “We were only talking. It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he says. His tone is smooth, but I’m not a fool. No matter what I pretend, I know Cole Westbrook. I know him so well that I can see the fire that got me burned, brewing in his eyes.

I push past him. “It’s nothing, Poppy,” I say, and she wraps an arm around me. It’s so good to feel her friendship, her interest in me.

“Eva, we need to talk about—” she begins, her voice laced with concern as I start putting my belongings away with trembling fingers.

Maintaining a composed expression is one thing, but the trembling gives me away, my facade eroding. “Don’t, Poppy,” I say firmly, knowing that I’m too fragile now to talk about it, especially to someone who doesn’t know. The person I need to speak to is Max. The plan is to go home and call him.

My savior who waltzed into my life when I was at my lowest; he is the one who can help, who can listen and understand the Eva I was then.

“But…”

I sigh, meeting her eyes. “We made a deal, and you didn’t want to talk about Ethan. I didn’t press.”

She winces, and I feel a little guilty, but all I want is to get out of here. She nods. “Okay, but know I’m here for you. Whenever.”

I soften, wanting to hug her. “I know, and you don’t know how much that means to me.”

Exhausted and emotionally drained, I slip out of the library, leaving the echo of Cole’s voice behind me. The cool afternoon air feels like a soothing balm as I make my way to my car, the quiet hum of the engine a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day.

As I drive, the houses and trees blur past in a wash of twilight colors. The road is familiar, a path I’ve traveled back and forth, yet tonight, it feels different, as if every turn brings me further from the person I was and closer to someone I’m still trying to understand.

Once home, I lock myself in my room, a sanctuary of soft pillows and comforting walls. I hesitate for a moment before picking up my phone and dialing Max’s number. He is so much more than the man who saved my life; he’s been a guiding light through some of my darkest times.

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