Page 58 of The One Who Changed Everything

I didn’t give her a chance to overthink it.

In one swift motion, I closed the distance between us, my lips capturing hers with a gentle yet insistent pressure. Herhands glided up my chest, fingertips tracing the contours of my muscles, and her body melted into mine, a silent affirmation of her answer.

I sensed the tension unravel within her, like a tightly wound spring finally being released, and my heart swelled with pride and deep satisfaction. Nothing felt as right as having her in my arms, where her warmth radiated and filled the space between us with an undeniable connection.

A few days later, I stood in the library with the contractor.

"Alright, so here’s the vision," I said, tapping the rolled-up blueprint on the table. We stood in the children's reading nook, the faint smell of old books and dust hanging in the air. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall library windows, catching the floating motes stirred up by our movements.

"Think bright, think inviting," I continued, gesturing toward the faded carpet beneath our feet. "We’re talking soft colors, maybe something like a pale blue or green that doesn’t scream ‘institutional,’ you know? And definitely some beanbags or comfy chairs for the kids to flop onto. Maybe even one of those little play tents—Sophia loves those."

"Yeah, I can see it," the contractor, a stout guy named Dale with a pencil tucked behind one ear, nodded as he scribbled notes. His voice was gruff but not unkind. "You’re looking at ripping out this old furniture first, though. Some of this is from, what, the seventies?"

"Sixties, maybe," I said, crouching down to give one of the wooden shelves a firm shake. It groaned under my hand, wobbly enough to make me wince. "Definitely not safe for kids. This has gotta go. All of it."

"Got it," Dale said, flipping his clipboard shut. "I’ll get my guys in here next week to start on the flooring and paint after you clear this stuff out. And we’ll get new shelving units from Todd Flynn, I think.”

By the time we started clearing out the space, the sun had shifted higher in the sky, spilling golden light onto the patchy carpet. Samantha showed up first, her sleeves already pushed up as if she meant business. She didn’t say much, just gave me a quick nod before heading straight for one of the ancient armchairs in the corner.

"Careful," I called over. "That thing might crumble to dust if you touch it wrong."

"Then we’re doing this place a favor," she shot back, her tone dry but her lips twitching in what might’ve been the hint of a smile. Progress.

A few minutes later, two of the firefighters from the station, Jake and Bryce, arrived, hauling work gloves and a dolly between them. Jake clapped me on the shoulder. "So, this is what you’re moonlighting as now? Furniture mover for hire?"

"Only for the right cause," I said, grabbing one end of a rickety bookshelf.

"Great," Jake said with a grin. "Because this is exactly how I wanted to spend my day off."

"Less talking, more lifting," Bryce cut in, already stacking a pile of warped picture books into a box. He glanced at Samantha, who was tugging at the stubborn armchair. "You need a hand with that?"

"Not yet," Samantha replied, grunting as she gave the chair a sharp tug. It scraped across the floor with an earsplitting squeal, and she looked up triumphantly. "There.”

As we worked, the room began to take on a different energy. The cluttered, dusty space slowly opened up. My muscles burned as I hauled out decades-old furniture, but I didn’t mind. Each piece I carried felt like shedding another layer of doubt, clearing the path to something better.

The scrape of the old bookshelf against the worn wooden floor echoed in the nearly empty room. I leaned into it, pushingwith my shoulder until it slid into place near the growing pile by the wall. Sam said she already had someone coming to pick up the old shelves later today. My gloves were covered in a fine layer of dust, and I could feel the sting of sweat trickling at the back of my neck despite the cool air inside the library.

"Hey, Evan," Samantha said after a while, her voice cutting through the sound of Jake dragging an empty shelf toward the door. She was standing near the window, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. "Can you grab these boxes? I want to set up a small temporary kids section by the front desk.”

“Of course.” I moved to her side and turned to survey the space from her perspective.

For a moment, we stood there, side by side, looking at the half-cleared room. It wasn’t much yet, but for the first time, I could really see it—the bright colors, the cozy corners, the laughter of kids filling the space.

"Alright, break’s over!" Jake called, clapping his hands together. "Let’s get this done before Bryce starts charging us overtime."

"Back to work," I said, grinning as I grabbed the box. Every lift, every step, every bead of sweat—it was all worth it. Because this wasn’t just about renovating a library. It was about building something real.

Before I got too far, Samantha stepped close, lifting onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you,” she said with a soft smile. “I still can’t believe I agreed to let you do all this. But I’m glad I did.”

The zing of energy from the contact kept me motivated all morning.

CHAPTER 23

Samantha

“This is ridiculous.” I huffed, allowing Evan to guide me forward despite the blindfold covering my eyes.

“Just a little farther,” he promised, his voice laced with excitement.

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