Page 62 of A Heart in Knots

“Wait, how?” I asked.

“I borrowed Skye’s copy.” A grin quirked the side of Rowan’s mouth. “I liked it. It genuinely kept me guessing. I think it’s shitty that it failed. I don’t think it got a fair shot.”

“You think you’ll win your way into my pack by stroking my ego?”

He didn’t falter. “I called around. Emailed. That ransom note is a list of bookshops, airports, mall kiosks and corner stores that are willing to sell your book on consignment. You’ll be on shelves. In stores.”

I studied him with a hard gaze. He seemed completely serious. Even his aura felt placid, but no-nonsense, devoid of any front or defense.

“If you lend me three or four copies I can put them in Fair Grounds tomorrow when I start my shift,” he added.

“When did you do all this?”

“A guy can get a lot done when he can’t sleep,” Rowan answered. “So, what do you say? Want to go for a drive?”

We packed the last two boxes of books into Rowan’s vehicle and we and the dog spent hours driving all through Port Haven, dropping off small orders of anywhere from two to five books at various places. The last place was a newly re-opened bookshop in the Mired District called Paper Trail. We walked in and everything looked and smelled like new. The tiled floor was clean and bright, the shelves didn’t seem to have a scratch on them. The cozy chairs still had their factory shape and didn’t have a single tear or stain on the upholstery.

A petite omega with pale eyes and dark hair walked up to greet us. “Welcome to Paper Trail.” She took one look at the box in my arms and gave a knowing half-smile. “You must be Severen. My name’s Stay.” She nodded to my full arms. “That our stock?”

“It is,” I said.

“Follow me.” She turned on her heel and led us to a round, multi-tiered table by the cash desk. “We’re doing a display for local authors,” she explained, holding a hand out for the first book. I reached in the box and handed her one.

“More,” she snapped her fingers, behaving rather bossy for an omega. I foraged out two more and handed them to her as well. Expertly, she arranged two copies to lay flat, spines out, then the third on top, supported by a stand so it stood face forward and proud.

“I read it, you know,” Stay said, nudging the top book just slightly so the cover didn’t catch any glare from the overhead lights.

“You did?” I blurted out. “How? I mean how did you read it? It was out of print.”

“Ebook.” She reached into the box herself and pulled out another copy. She opened the cover and scanned the copyright page. “Ahh, Yellow House Publishing.”

“What does that mean?” Rowan asked.

“They went bankrupt,” Stay answered. “Folded.” She handed me the book. “It’s a miracle you got your rights back.”

I grunted in response. I didn’t even think about that. Losing my publisher had given me such a feeling of malaise that I didn’t consider the legalities of everything.

“Anyway,” Stay said. “I liked it. A lot, actually.” She grinned up at me. “I mean, what starts out as a melancholy slice of life about a guy finding his pack, only to realize that all his pack-mates weredifferent parts of his own personality? How did you even think of that?”

Rowan smirked. “Seems you have a fangirl.”

“No,” Stay insisted indignantly, pointing a finger at him. “No. I just like a good book. I mean,” she scoffed. “Look around you.” She shrugged. “Anyway, if you give me your card or your number or something, I’ll contact you when we need a restock.”

“These are all the copies I have left,” I said.

“Oh,” her shoulders sank. “Well, then, here.” She took a card from the cash desk and handed it to me. “Contact us if you have any reissues, or reprints or anything.”

“Maybe,” I said.

She hauled herself up on the cash desk like it was her own personal nest. “Screwmaybe. Sometimes things get a second chance. That could be what’s happening today. Look, one of my alphas narrates audiobooks. He’s freelance, with reasonable rates.Maybethat’s a way to grant your book a second life.”

I couldn’t think of a way to respond. Or perhaps I ran into a time limit that she had been counting down in her head because she shrugged.

“Or not. It’s notmyopus. I’m not the one who brought it into the world.”

Rowan picked up the now empty box. “We’ll consider it,” he said with a genial smile. “Thank you again, Stay.”

He nudged me toward the door and we left. He tossed the empty box into the back of his car and we were on our way back to the house.

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