Chapter 4

Chapter Four

P ope

The air smells of fresh-cut wood and the earthy tang of sawdust. I swing the hammer, feeling the satisfying thud as it hits the beam, but it does little to distract me from the tension building inside. The sun casts long shadows across the half-built library, and somewhere in the background, I hear footsteps—light and purposeful. Of course. Ruby.

She arrives with her notebook clutched to her chest, like she's holding a shield. Not that she'd ever admit she's shielding herself from anything. She's too damn stubborn for that. Ruby's the kind of woman who walks right into the fire, not backing down even when she should. I should admire that. Hell, maybe I do. But today, her presence is grating on me. After our unexpected run-ins at the park and the hardware store, I've had trouble keeping her precious face out of my head. I didn't sleep well last night, and the idea of seeing her again has left me rattled, to say the least. This woman is under my skin and I can't figure out quite why. I've never met anyone like her, the calm way she confronts me is intoxicating–I'm one intimidating sonuvabitch and no one has ever stood up to me like Ruby does.

"Pope," she starts, her voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of my work. "We need to talk about the layout near the children's section."

Her tone is calm, professional, but something about the way she says "we need to talk" pushes all the wrong buttons. Maybe it's because she always shows up when I'm in the middle of something. Or maybe it's just because she's her .

I drop the hammer onto the beam with a sharp clang and turn toward her, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. "Now's not the time, Ruby. I'm busy."

She's unfazed by my shortness, of course. Her lips press into that determined line she gets when she's about to push back. "It's always the time, Pope," she says. "This library is important, and if we don't get the layout right, it's going to affect how people use it for years."

My irritation flares, the frustration bubbling over. "You think I don't know that? I've been building things my entire life. I don't need someone coming around telling me how to do my job."

The words come out sharper than I intended, and the moment they hit the air, I see it. Ruby's posture falters, just for a second. It's so subtle I almost miss it—the way her shoulders stiffen, the way her grip tightens around the notebook until her knuckles turn white. But it's her eyes that get me. There's a flicker of something in them, something I've never seen before. Fear.

I've seen Ruby stand her ground in a storm of my frustration more than once, and she's never flinched. But now... now she's different. Her gaze flickers, guarded and hesitant, as if I've crossed a line I didn't even know existed.

I step back instinctively, my own irritation draining out of me like someone pulled the plug. That flash of vulnerability in her eyes... it knocks me sideways. Ruby is always confident, stubborn even, but right now she's standing in front of me like a woman ready to bolt. And it makes me pause.

I swallow hard, the words coming out quieter than I expected. "Ruby… I didn't mean to?—"

"It's fine," she says quickly, too quickly. She brushes me off with a tight smile, but her voice trembles at the edges. "I'm fine."

She's lying. Anyone with half a brain could see it. But I don't push. Instead, I take another step back, giving her the space she clearly needs, and lower my hands from where they'd been gesturing heatedly.

"You don't have to be ‘fine,' you know," I say, my voice softer now. The bite's gone, replaced by something else. Concern. I don't know where the hell it's coming from, but it's there, and I can't ignore it. "If something's going on, you can talk to me."

She shakes her head, and for the first time, she's not meeting my gaze. Her eyes are darting around the site like she's searching for an escape route, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her usual confidence, the thing I've grown used to sparring with, is crumbling, and all I see now is someone trying desperately to hold themselves together.

Something's wrong. Something more than just me raising my voice. My stomach knots as the realization settles in. This isn't about the library. This isn't even about me.

I step closer, but not too close. I don't want to spook her. "Ruby," I say quietly, "what's going on?"

She swallows hard, her gaze still fixed somewhere over my shoulder. "I've...been through some things," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers are white-knuckled around the edges of her notebook, and she's hugging it to her chest like a lifeline. "I don't like it when people get angry."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and suddenly I'm seeing her in a whole new light. She's been through something—something bad. I don't know what, but it's enough to make her recoil when someone raises their voice. And it makes me feel like an absolute ass for not seeing it sooner.

"I'm not him," I say, the words coming out rougher than I intended. I don't even know who he is, but I know there's a him. There's always a him. "I don't know what happened to you, Ruby, but I'm not that guy."

She flinches slightly, and I realize I've hit too close to the mark. But I can't take the words back now. I take a deep breath and try again, softer this time. "I wouldn't hurt you."

Her jaw tightens, and I can see the war going on inside her. Part of her wants to believe me, I can tell, but the other part... the other part is too damn scared to let anyone in.

"I don't need your protection," she mutters, her voice tight with tension. She wraps her arms around herself like she's shielding herself from me—from everything. "I can handle myself."

I watch her, my own chest tightening at the sight of her trying to pull herself together. She's strong—stronger than most people I've met. But even strong people have cracks. And right now, Ruby's are showing.

"You don't have to handle everything alone," I say quietly. I don't know why I'm still pushing, but something about the way she's standing there, arms wrapped around herself like she's about to fall apart, makes me want to help. I shouldn't care this much, but damn it, I do.

Ruby shakes her head again, and her gaze flicks to mine for the briefest of moments. Her eyes are glassy, and I know she's fighting like hell not to let anything spill over. "It's not that simple," she whispers, her voice cracking just a little.

I want to tell her that it can be simple, that she doesn't have to keep everything bottled up. But I know better than anyone that things are rarely that easy. I've got my own walls, my own scars. So I don't push. Instead, I take a step back, giving her the space she needs.

"You don't have to tell me everything," I say softly, trying to let her know that I'm here if she needs me, but I'm not going to force anything. "But if you ever want to... I'm here."

She nods, her throat too tight to speak, and I can see the gratitude flicker in her eyes before she turns away, walking off the construction site with her shoulders hunched just slightly, like she's carrying the weight of the world.

I watch her go, feeling something stir in my chest—something I haven't felt in a long time. Concern. Real, bone-deep concern. I'm not used to this. I'm not used to caring. But Ruby...she's gotten under my skin in a way I can't explain. She's not just the stubborn librarian who shows up every day with her notebook and her opinions. She's more than that. She's guarded, she's hurting, and for some reason, I can't stop thinking about how to help her heal.

As she disappears down the path, I turn back to the beam I was working on, but my mind isn't on the library anymore. It's on her. And I know, without a doubt, that this isn't over.

Not by a long shot.