Page 63 of Wicked Scorn
“I didn’t see anyone go near your desk,” chimes in Marissa, her eyes darting around the room as if the book might magically appear.
I nod, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure, found it in the Mystery stacks. Thanks, anyway.” My fingers drum against my thigh, my mind racing with possibilities. I have that weird feeling again like I’m being watched, which makes me annoyed at myself because as I look around, no one is here that shouldn’t be. A stalker didn’t sneak into the library and leave a book for me to find just to snatch it off my desk.
Right?
I’m going insane.
As I listen to my co-workers chatter about their schedule and who can take whose shift, Cindy’s condescending voice slices through the air like ice on glass.
“Maybe your little fling with JeremiahBlackwood is affecting your focus, Oakley. You know, distracting you from your work,” she sneers, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I overheard you all. Losing one of the heirloom books is a huge deal. Like fired and kicked out of school. Big deal.”
A surge of anger washes over me, and I narrow my eyes, ready to defend Jeremiah and his family. The nerve of this woman, thinking she knows everything about my life, my feelings. I won’t let her get away with it.
Suddenly I’m sixteen again, ready to take a bullet for Jeremiah because he’s the only thing that really truly matters to me.
“First off,Cynthia, my relationship with Jeremiah is none of your business. And secondly,” I continue, my voice cold and sharp as if I’m channeling one of the Blackwoods, “the Blackwood brothers have nothing to do with this. So keep your snide remarks to yourself.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Cindy scoffs, clearly taken aback by my sudden assertiveness. “Just trying to help, Oakley. No need to bite my head off.”
“Help? Is that what you call it?” I retort, my chest heaving with the effort of keeping my emotions in check. “You’re not helping, Cindy. You’re just stirring up trouble where there isn’t any.”
Cindy is used to everyone cowering down to her because she kisses the head librarian’s ass.
I stare down Cindy, my heart pounding in my chest as I muster the courage to stand up for myself and those I care about. My hands clench into tight fists at my sides. I’ve taken her shit and everyone else’s for far too long. I snap, my voice trembling with barely contained rage, “I don’t want to hear another word from you about Jeremiah or his brothers.”
“Oakley,” Cindy stammers, her eyes wide in shock, “I’ve never seen you talk back to anyone like that before.” Her tone is begrudgingly respectful, but I couldn’t care less about her opinion right now. All that matters tonight is finding that missing book.
“Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being pushed around,” I retort, my eyes never leaving hers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” Her mouth gapes and it’s so fucking satisfying. I know I’m putting a target on my back, but I don’t regret it. With a dismissive flick of my wrist, I turn away from her and return to my task.
As I sift through the remaining books on my cart, my mind races with thoughts of the mysterious disappearance. The faint creak of floorboards and the low hum of the fluorescent lights above do little to calm my frayed nerves.
I shove the last book onto its designated shelf, my fingers trembling with frustration and anxiety. The hushed atmosphere of the library only amplifies my unease, as if the silence is a living thing, waiting to swallow me whole.
“Pull yourself together, Oak,” I whisper under my breath, forcing a shaky smile onto my face. It’s just a missing book. There’s a reasonable explanation. No one is out to get me. I hate that I’m this shaken up, but I can’t help but feel like it was put there as bait for me to find. It very much feels like someone is toying with me right now.
As I turn to leave the aisle, a shiver races down my spine. My heart thuds wildly in my chest as I glance over my shoulder, scanning the dimly lit aisles for any sign of life.
“Hello?” I call out hesitantly, my voice barely audible even to myself. “Is anyone there?”
No response comes, save for the sound of floorboards—taunting me, mocking my fear. I let out a frustratedsigh, rubbing my temples as I try to convince myself it’s just my nerves playing tricks on me.
Oh my God, I need to get a grip. I force my legs to carry me back to the main reading area. I can’t help but feel like I’m being ridiculous.
But as I weave through the maze of shelves, the soft rustle of pages turning echoes around me, the sound grating against my ears like nails on a chalkboard right now.
“Uhh, Oakley, you look a little on edge,” one of my coworkers states as I pass by, making me jerk back. Their concerned gaze bores into me as I try to calm down.
“I’m fine,” I snap, the word coming out harsher than I intended. “Just...worried about that book.”
“Okay,” they murmur, clearly unconvinced, but not willing to push me further. “Let us know if you need anything, alright?”
“Sure,” I mutter, offering them a hollow smile before continuing on my way.
“I’m as paranoid as freaking Penn now,” I mutter under my breath, forcing my shaking hands to steady themselves. Jumping out of my skin because a co-worker approached meat workisn’t cute.
I’m about to head across the aisle when I’m grabbed from behind. I instantly go ridged, kicking until I hear Jeremiah’s soothing voice. “Bunny, you okay? I didn’t mean to scare the shit outta you.” Jeremiah’s big arms wrap around me, pulling me back into his hard chest and abdomen.
“Of course, just…I was just in my head,” I say, leaving out the fact that I’ve felt like someone has been watching me my entire shift. I’m unwilling to admit the depth of my unease because I don’t want to worry him. The urge to lean into him, toseek reassurance and comfort from the one person who seems to truly understand me, wars with my need to prove my strength and independence.
