Page 2 of Keeping You
“That girl’s father would be rolling in his grave if he could see how she’s behaving,” Martha adds in a stage whisper. “Sheriff Caldwell was such a good man. Nothing like his children.”
The mention of Sheriff Caldwell brings a slight ache to my heart. He was always kind to me, especially when I was hanging out at their house with Harper. He passed away four months ago after a brief illness, and I couldn’t even attend the funeral because by then, Harper and I weren’t speaking.
“Now, now, Anna is a gift,” Gloria reminds us all. “That girl takes after her grandmother. I was so pleased when Edith passed the bakery on to her.”
“Yes, of course,” Martha agrees. “I’m sure the sheriff is proud of his oldest. It’s the other two I’m sure he wonders about.”
“Let’s not speak ill of the dead, Martha,” I say quietly, purposefully trying to redirect the conversation.
Both ladies wander away whispering amongst themselves, and I can finally get back to work. Despite everything, I’m proud of what I’ve built here. The Cupid’s Creek Public Library isn’t just a collection of books; it’s a community hub. Since taking over as head librarian two years ago, I’ve revamped the children’s corner, started three different book clubs, and created a cozy reading nook that’s perfect for story hour. The board has been very pleased with my accomplishments.
After my public meltdown on the sidewalk, after I discovered Kirk and Harper were a couple, people I’ve known my entire life make a point to stop into the library at least once a week to see how I’m doing, including those who have never read a book in their lives. There’s something comforting in knowing they have my back.
A little while later, I’m just helping a young mother find a picture book about dinosaurs for her little boy when the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle interrupts the building’s peaceful hum. There aren’t many in town, and this one has a distinctive growl to it, the noise growing louder as it approaches. While Martha and Gloria practically sprint to the windows, I head to the open front door to get the best view. Soon, everyperson in the library is pressed up to a piece of glass to watch it slowly and loudly make its way down the street.
A huge, low-slung black motorcycle slows to a crawl and comes to a stop in front of the bakery. The thing is a beast, all shiny chrome and black casings, but it’s covered in bugs and dust, like it’s come a long way. I think we all collectively hold our breath as the rider kicks the stand into place and turns off the engine. The ticking is loud in the sudden quiet, but I can see its arrival has drawn plenty of curious gazes.
The rider stands and swings his jean-clad leg over the seat. He’s tall and broad-shouldered in dark denim and leather that hugs his frame in all the right places. He removes the glossy helmet and shakes his head hard before tunneling gloved fingers through dark brown hair. He’s impressively built, his arms thick, his thighs thicker. From the side, I can see that his jawline is covered in scruff, the same shade as his hair.
He turns, and our eyes immediately lock. It’s like watching the pages of a story I thought I’d closed forever suddenly flip back open. I inhale sharply as I’m suddenly tossed ass over tea kettle into the past.
Fifteen years to be exact.
Luke Caldwell.
Memories come rushing back whether I want them to or not. Stolen kisses behind the bleachers, fumbling hands in the back of a truck, whispered promises under the stars. My first kiss. My first everything. A day I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try. It was the way he looked at me—like I was the only girl in his world. I thought I’d found my forever. That my girlish dreams were coming true.
Then Harper made me choose between him and her. Friends stick together, right? There’s a code and all that.
Didn’t matter anyway. Luke left town after that night, without even so much as a good-bye.
He looks as shocked to see me, but recovers fast, because it’s at that moment Harper comes flying out of the bakery and jumps into her brother’s arms, knocking him back a few steps.
Pain, sharp with disappointment, stabs like a knife, knowing that I can’t walk over and join the reunion. Instead, I watch as he casts me a glance over his shoulder before he grabs his bag from where it’s tied to the motorcycle and disappears inside the bakery with his sister.
The moment the door closes behind them, the library erupts into excited whispers.
“Is that?—”
“Luke Caldwell.”
“Sheriff’s son.”
“Always causing trouble, got sent away.”
“Heard he became a cop himself.”
“Wonder why he’s back.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from the door they disappeared through. From my vantage point, I can see through the glass, and I watch him embrace Harper. Even from this distance, I can see he’s filled out. No longer the lanky twenty-one-year-old, but a man who commands attention when he enters a room, or simply by standing next to his Harley. He’s even more handsome now than he was then. This version is controlled, purposeful, and dangerous in an entirely different way than the boy who used to make my pulse race fifteen years ago.
It’s scary that I can see all that from here, after years apart.
Martha’s shrill laugh pierces through my thoughts, the sound harsh enough to make me wince. She and Gloria are practically pressed against the window like teenagers at a concert, their breath fogging the glass as they push to their tiptoes and crane their necks for a better view.
“Well, well,” she says, her voice dripping with giddy interest. “The prodigal son returns. This ought to liven things up around here.”
Everything about this moment feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—thrilling and terrifying and utterly inescapable. My pulse hammers against my throat as he turns toward the window, and I suck in a breath that burns my lungs. I know I should get back to work, but I can’t bring myself to do so. Every nerve ending screams that he’s watching me. It’s like he’s taking each of my carefully shelved memories and pulling them all down at once, leaving me to sort through the mess.
