Page 5 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

JULIET

I go straight back to my apartment after my awkward morning of embarrassing myself. The amount of nervous energy I was experiencing around Cameron surprised me. I’ve never felt that way around a stranger before, or any man if I’m being honest.

Could I have a crush on a random guy I just met? No. Nope. That would be crazy. Absolute lunacy. I’ve only spent about five minutes with him and the only thing I know about him is his name.

And that he’s very strong. He literally lifted me off the ground like I weighed less than a feather.

No, I can’t be thinking about this. About him . Still, I find myself hoping I’ll see him again.

Isn’t that what he said? I’ll see you around?

Seems like a very confident assertion. How can he be sure?

Isn’t he going to be gone after the weekend?

If he’s a tourist. Then again, maybe he’s not.

Maybe he lives here. Yes, it’s not a big town, and most people know each other.

In fact, I’m on a first name basis with Jerry at the gas station and Phil who bags my groceries.

Honestly, if he’s local, it would be weird if I didn’t see Cameron again.

But I can’t help the thrill that fills my chest when I think about his adorable smirk.

Something about his smile gave me the impression that he was overthinking something, like there was more he wanted to say but decided not to.

I could feel it. The gleam in his eyes told me he found something funny, so I’m desperately hoping I wasn’t just the unfortunate brunt of a joke.

He said, I repeat, he said he wasn’t laughing at me.

And I think I believe him. Something about his calm demeanor and his gentle smile made me feel at ease, like he was trustworthy, even though my heart was racing with anticipation throughout our whole encounter.

And he bought me coffee . That’s the number one way to my heart and somehow he got the memo.

Filling my cheeks with air, I huff out a long breath. Clearly, I need to get out more. There aren’t enough good single men in Maple Lake; I fear he’s extremely out of my league.

Dax, my fluffy Golden Retriever, shoves his nose into my hand and rubs the side of his soft white body against my leg as I shuffle through the tops in my closet.

“Hey,” I laugh, bending down to scratch behind his fluffy ears. “Don’t get fur all over my black jeans.” He just sniffs at my coffee covered shirt and licks my cheek. “I love you too, buddy. You’re the best boy.”

After I change into another “dress for success” outfit, my black skinny jeans, and a beige knit sweater paired with flat waterproof Chelsea boots, I walk Dax for the second time this morning. Once he’s safely back in my apartment, I head straight back out to my original destination, the library.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting at a desk in a perfectly quiet corner with my laptop open. My fingers hover over the black keyboard, itching to get to work on this paper .

But now that I’m here, my mind won’t focus enough to even keep my eyes on the screen.

I’m looking around the open space, watching as people pass through the building, when I hear the sliding doors open at the front of the library.

A mother with two little girls comes in, her shoulder weighed down by a bag full of books while she power walks to keep up with the little ones.

She’s hushing them as they laugh and race for the book return box.

It makes me smile. I remember when my little sister and I were that age. We loved coming to the library with our mom, and I get teary eyed at the memory.

Natalie runs ahead of me, racing for the step stool that sits near the book drop. She pulls it closer and steps up, turning toward me and giggling.

“I made it, I win,” she singsongs. I catch up to her and mom meets us there a few seconds later. She looks tired, but she smiles wide at us and begins handing us books to place in the return.

Natalie returns the first stack, and we switch places so that I can return the second half.

Soon, we’re racing through the bookshelves, mom on our heels, encouraging us to “please be quiet.” People sitting at desks smile at us while some frown at our noise, but we’re oblivious to anything but the fun that awaits us in the kid corner.

I’m sitting in the same building—Maple Lake Public Library. Some things seem like they’ve never changed, while simultaneously everything is vastly different.

I haven’t moved away, although just about everyone in town has asked me why I haven’t.

They say that at this point in my life, I should be getting out of this small town that I grew up in, exploring new places, meeting new people.

I should be out there catching a fish in the pond of single men and having his babies or whatever.

That’s what they say anyway. They being every meddling person in town over the age of fifty.

But that’s how a small town works; everyone is family.

And everyone knows your business. It’s comforting, in a way, to know I have so many people on my side, wanting the best for me and knowing about my past. I never feel like I have to explain myself because, odds are, they already know the details.

And they certainly know never to bring up Natalie’s name around me.

But despite those specific circumstances, I’ve made it my personal goal to bury my worries under the pretense of always putting others first. That’s a big reason why I love my job at the hospital; I get to spend my entire day taking care of others and forgetting about myself.

The little girls with the frazzled mother have moved on from the book drop to the back of the library and, although I can no longer see them, I can still hear their laughter as they make their way into the children’s corner.

Natalie and I used to laugh like that together.

But I haven’t seen her now for a couple years.

As soon as she turned eighteen, she left home and didn’t turn back.

No phone calls, no texts or emails. Just a note on the kitchen counter the day she left that said, “I’m moving away from Maple Lake to find my own happiness.

Don’t worry, I’m fine, but I’m ready to be somewhere other than here.

Don’t try to contact me. I’ll call when I’m ready to. ” Translation: “Don’t bother me, bye.”

I’ve been heartbroken over the loss of a sister for quite a while now, but it’s not like she died.

I actually know with complete confidence that she’s alive and well because I did all the online stalking I could to find her.

Sure, she made fake social media accounts and changed her phone number, which made it difficult, but she has what I assume she wanted all along—a different life.

A life without her family. And I’m happy knowing that she’s happy.

Sort of.

Okay, not really. But I try, it’s just difficult knowing she didn’t want me as a sister.

Releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I give up on trying to write the paper for my online class. Resolving to work on it later at home, I pack my laptop, water bottle, and phone into my canvas backpack and walk to my car.

The air is cold and the wind is sharp as it smacks me across the face in greeting.

Hey, winter. Nice to see you too .

My shoulders sag at the realization that I should have stayed home this morning. Today has been completely unproductive.

Deciding I should just spend the next hour doing something to clear my head, I settle once again into my car.

Usually a brisk walk does the trick, but there’s no way I’m spending any more time outdoors than necessary this winter.

I always keep a fresh set of athletic clothes in my trunk just in case I need it, and today I’m thankful for the foresight.

Once I have the heat blasting through the vents and the radio set to an upbeat pop channel, I head for the gym.