Page 65 of Deserter

I grabbed another cookbook at random and added it to the stack in my arms before venturing toward the health section like I was sneaking inside after curfew.

Sharon was deep in conversation with a couple of women when I walked back up with an armful of books.

“Find what you needed?” she asked with a smile.

I nodded and wiped my damp palms against the front of my dress while focusing on aBabar the Elephantposter behind her head.

She scanned the cookbooks before sucking in a startled breath when she reached the pregnancy books. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t have to say a word. I knew exactly what she was thinking—another bright girl, betrayed by her uterus.

My face burned bright, but I refused to look down or act ashamed. Despite the fear gnawing at my gut, I’d chosen to keep this baby and I didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

“Have a good day, Celia. If you need anything… just let me know, okay?” Sharon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Thanks.”

Heavy clouds lined the horizon and the air around me crackled with electricity as a storm approached. I couldn’t distinguish whether the distant grumbling was from thunder or phantom bikers.

I tucked the plastic bag of books under my arm and waited for a break in traffic before crossing the street. If I was lucky, the storm would hold out until I made it home.

Lightning darted across the sky and the first few drops of rain fell in response. I quickened my pace, pausing at the end of every block to catch my breath.

“Ten down… forty more to go,” I muttered.

The skies opened up a few seconds later, drenching me and any hope I had of getting back to Jamie’s without looking like a drowned rat.

A turquoise Chevrolet truck pulled over near the sidewalk and a man called through the open window, “Need a ride?”

I shielded my eyes from the downpour and peered through the open window. Tattoos covered the arm holding onto the steering wheel, but the man had a friendly smile.

Sensing my hesitation, he added, “I work atInked on Broadway. Saw you leavin’ the library. Storm won’t let up for a while yet.”

Hopefully, he hadn’t been working the afternoon Jamie and I christened his office. Neither one of us had been particularly quiet.

On the other hand, if anyone would ensure that I made it home in one piece, it’d be someone who worked for Jamie. I gave a small nod and pushed the button on the door handle to let myself in. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, still out of breath from my short jog.

“No problem. You live around here?” He flashed me another megawatt grin and my heart stuttered in my chest. It had to be the hormones and not some sudden affinity for tattooed bad boys.

“I live off Twenty-sixth and Smith,” I answered distractedly while wiping the raindrops from the plastic bag containing my books.

He let out a low whistle. “Shit, that’s quite a walk. I’m Ryan, by the way. I should’ve led with that.”

I laughed. “I guess I should’ve asked before climbing in. I’m Celia.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Yiayia had loved Shakespeare almost as much as she loved me, so it was no surprise that when my parents were struggling to come up with a name, she swooped in and saved the day.

Rosalind may have been the favorite inAs You Like It, but Celia was a force to be reckoned with. It was also fitting that, like Shakespeare’s Celia, I should’ve fallen in love with the scoundrel.

Instead of accepting the compliment, I just pointed to the house. “I’m right here. Thanks again.”

Ryan parked the truck and followed me up to the porch. “Celia, wait. Could I—”

“Hello again,” the older man called from across the street. He was now sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. “Quite the storm we’re having.”

“It sure is!”

“Celia,” Ryan tried again. “I want to—”

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