23. Oakley

Chapter 23

Oakley

J eremiah is off at practice, so instead of staying put, while all the Blackwood dictators are away, I'm here at work. My second home. The hushed silence of the library envelops me as I drift between the towering shelves, my fingers gliding over the worn spines of countless books. The scent of aged paper and ink fills the air, comforting in its familiarity. My eyes catch a rare book nestled among the others, and I carefully retrieve it, cradling it in my hands like a precious artifact. I don't know how it got here and I'm not going to ask, but I'm in no mood for the lecture the entire staff is going to get if the head librarian sees this.

"Guess you're off to the basement later," I murmur to the book, placing it on my desk with a mental note to store it away properly. I'm not even scheduled to work right now, but I can't help it. I wander back through the stacks with my cart, collecting discarded books that students left on the study tables. The only sounds in this sanctuary are the soft rustling of pages and the creaking of ancient floorboards beneath my feet. I often wonder what this place looked like when St. Charles was first built. What were the people like? What books did they read the most?

When I finally return to my desk, my heart lurches in my chest as I realize the rare book is gone. Confusion and concern wash over me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of the missing tome. It's not like Cindy is the type to do extra work that she isn't asked to do. She's more of a self-appointed supervisor whose only job is to delegate the work amongst the rest of us.

"Where the hell did it go?" I mutter under my breath, trying to shake off the growing tension that coils in my stomach. It would be just my luck that I'd be the one to lose an expensive heirloom donated to the college.

"Looking for something, Oakley?" a voice asks from behind me. I jump, startled by the sudden intrusion. It's just Cindy, but her innocent question only serves to fuel my unease.

"Uh, yeah," I reply, swallowing hard. "There was this book here on my desk, and now it's gone."

"Maybe someone took it by mistake?" she suggests, shrugging nonchalantly. But I know better. No one picked that book up by mistake and the only thing I can think of is that maybe she's setting me up so she can get me in trouble for something. She's a known tattle tale, but she's never been able to catch me slacking at work.

"Is something wrong?" Cindy asks, her face pinched up like she's smelling something absolutely rank. I don't think it was her. She'd love nothing more than to wave it in my face and taunt me as she made a report for a missing book.

"Never better," I lie, plastering a fake smile onto my lips. "Just...let me know if you need any help today? "

"Sure thing," she agrees, disappearing back into the labyrinth of shelves.

My heart pounds as I approach my coworkers who are huddled around the front desk, trying to stifle the anxiety bubbling within me.

"Hey, uh, have any of you picked up a book I left on my desk? It's one of the ones that belongs down in the freezer. I stepped away for a moment and now it's gone," I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

One by one, they shake their heads, denying any knowledge of the missing book. The air hangs heavy with suspicion, and I can't help but feel like I'm walking a tightrope above a pit of vipers.

"How did it even get up here? Does Cindy know?" Kevin asks, adjusting his glasses nervously. "She'll write a report on it if she finds out."

"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 Jeremiah Blackwood 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 frustrated sigh, 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 me at work isn'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, to seek reassurance and comfort from the one person who seems to truly understand me, wars with my need to prove my strength and independence.

Something deep within me tells me that Jeremiah is here for keeps, that he'll never let anything happen to me.

"Do you want to let me in on what?" He offers, his eyes searching mine for any hint of the turmoil churning within me as he turns me around to face him. His skin is still damp from his after-practice shower. He takes more showers than anyone else I know and always has. That's why I started calling him pretty boy. He was always determined to be clean and look like he walked off a freaking photo shoot.

"Thanks, Rem, but just thinking about classes and midterms," I say, injecting false confidence into my words. I can't rely on him to fix everything, no matter how tempting the thought may be. "What are you doing here? I thought Coach wanted you to review game tape?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he says, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "And nothing but feeling you in my arms would fix the craving."

"You're ridiculous," I tell him, and I feel the heat flushing my cheeks as he cups my face and leans down to kiss me too roughly for the backdrop of our school library.

"And you're fucking sexy when you blush, bunny," he says as he pulls away from my lips long enough to drop a kiss to my forehead. Jeremiah grins when he sees Cindy walk by the aisle to glare at us. "My fan club is showing up. I guess that's our cue to leave."

Cindy huffs and stomps away, which makes me burst out in laughter, causing Jeremiah to cup the back of my head, pulling my face into his chest so I don't get fired for being too loud in the sacred St. Charles library. When I sober up, I look up at Jeremiah Blackwood and realize that there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms.