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SIX

ANDRE

The quiet peace of the library was a stark contrast to the chaos in my office. Stacks of papers, brochures, and sticky notes covered every available surface. My desk, usually neatly organized, looked like a rainbow tornado had hit it. I sighed as I surveyed the mess.

My gaze drifted to the schedule I’d reviewed with Ethan last night. The memory of our conversation sent a sharp pang through my chest. I’d spent half the night tossing and turning, my mind stubbornly replaying every moment in an endless loop. How had I allowed those awful words to escape my mouth?

What gnawed at me most was his accusation that I’d bullied him. I’d always prided myself on being the organized planner who brought students together for events they wanted. The thought that I might have caused anyone pain made my stomach churn.

Setting aside the guilt, I attempted to focus on the mountain of festival tasks before my shift at the circulation desk. As I opened my laptop, I steeled myself for the inevitable flood of emails. As I scrolled through my inbox, one subject line made my heart plummet—Urgent: Author Cancellation.

The message came from the publicist for one of Friday’s featured authors. A family emergency had forced her to withdraw. While the publicist promised to seek a replacement, she couldn’t guarantee success on such short notice.

I understood completely, but it was one more fire demanding attention.

In my tablet’s notebook, I added Find new author panelist to the expanding to-do list, right under Meet with security and Get the list of featured artists for the theater performances .

A knock at my office door interrupted my spiral of worry. I glanced up to see Wade practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hey, boss!” Their enthusiasm radiated like sunshine. “I’ve got excellent news about the live streaming project.”

I gestured them inside and managed a smile, silently praying this wouldn’t add to my workload. “What’s up?”

Wade dropped into one of the chairs across from my desk.

“My friends are ready to run the streaming for the event. We’ve got six people confirmed and possibly two more joining.

Whether it’s six or eight, we can provide fantastic coverage.

The team’s buzzing with ideas to make it awesome for both the festival and their portfolios. ”

“Excellent work pulling that together so quickly.”

Wade’s enthusiasm dimmed. “There’s just one tiny hiccup. They can manage transportation, but accommodation is tricky with all the hotels booked solid.”

Of course, there had to be a catch.

“Right. I’ll see what I can do.” I kept my voice steady, not wanting Wade to sense my mounting stress. “Perhaps we could reach out to locals with spare rooms? We could offer festival perks in exchange.”

Wade nodded eagerly. “I’ll compile a list of potential hosts. Olivia and I can work with some other volunteers to brainstorm options.”

“Perfect. I appreciate you taking that on.” Relief washed over me at their initiative. “Could you send me details about any equipment the team needs? I want to ensure we’re prepared.”

“No worries there. They’ve got their own gear or they’re borrowing from school. Plus Maplewood’s wireless network is solid.” Wade bounced to their feet.

“You might have just saved my morning.”

“Happy to help. I’m off to find Olivia. See you at the security meeting this afternoon.”

My stomach clenched at the reminder. I still needed to prepare for that. “Yes, see you there.”

After Wade departed, I sank back in my chair and closed my eyes. The library’s silence enveloped me, but my thoughts remained loud. Despite the tower of tasks awaiting my attention, my mind drifted back to Ethan.

That spark when our eyes met, the unexpected flutter in my chest.

It was ridiculous.

Ethan and I were opposites in so many ways, and he wasn’t even my type. Yet something in the vulnerability he’d displayed, in his admission of anxiety, had made me truly see him.

Perhaps for the first time.

Had I been so blinded by my preconceptions of who I’d expected him to be?

Another knock at the door cut short that unsettling thought.

Before I could respond, Mickey peered inside.

“Hey. Thought you could use this.” He extended a cup in my direction. “I come bearing hibiscus tea and updates about festival food.”

“Just what I needed. Come in.”

Mickey settled into the recently vacated chair, his eyes widening at the chaos spread across my desk. That subtle reaction was his only comment on the disorder.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve organized the food vendors—which ones will have booths in the park and which ones will set up in front of their establishments.”

“Wonderful. Can you forward that to Olivia for the program she’s assembling?”

“Consider it done.” His expression softened as he studied my face. “Everything alright? You’ve got that look you get when something’s eating at you.”

I hesitated, uncertain whether to confide in Mickey. Though he’d become a close friend since my return, his long-standing friendship with Ethan complicated things.

Yet that connection also made him the ideal person to ask.

“Mickey, do you…” My voice emerged barely above a whisper. “Do you think I was a bully in high school?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Where’s this coming from?”

Running a hand over my head, I exhaled. “Something Ethan said. We argued, and he accused me of being a bully. Was I?”

Mickey leaned back, contemplating. “That’s quite a loaded question. Can you give me some context?”

I explained the situation, omitting my worst behavior. With each word, tension crept further into my shoulders as the weight of everything settled over me.

Mickey remained silent for a moment.

I shouldn’t have brought it up. Too awkward.

“Look, I wouldn’t say you were a bully exactly. But you’ve always been… intense. Particularly about organizing events. You’ve definitely mellowed since high school.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I can imagine that sometimes the intensity might have felt pushy or intimidating.”

The knot in my stomach tightened. “So Ethan’s right?”

Mickey shrugged. “I didn’t say that. Perception is complex. What you saw as enthusiasm and rallying people, Ethan might have experienced differently.”

“But I never intended to…”

Intent and impact—they weren’t always aligned, were they?

“I know,” Mickey said gently. “But perhaps this is an opportunity to sit with Ethan and understand his perspective. You’ll be working closely this week. A genuine conversation might prevent further misunderstandings.”

Horror struck me as the memory of how harsh I’d been about his purchase of the Montgomery place flashed through my mind. “Oh God. What if he withdraws? The entire event could collapse!”

Mickey raised a calming hand. “Don’t create problems that don’t exist. Ethan won’t back out. His commitment to Maplewood runs too deep to risk the festival’s success.”

“How can you be so certain?” The desperation in my voice was embarrassing.

Mickey leaned forward, expression serious. “Consider this: despite whatever happened in high school, Ethan said yes to being grand marshal even though he knew he’d be working with you. He also consistently supports community projects and returns every summer for the hockey camp.”

I frowned, trying to recall specific instances of him backing the town beyond seeing him at summer events like Pride or setting his moms up with the theater. “Support?”

“Let’s discuss the library for a moment. Who are your major donors?”

The abrupt topic shift caught me off guard. “We have many individual contributors, with the largest giving a couple thousand annually. Several local businesses, like yours, donate. The biggest is the Maplewood Foundation, which supports several organizations.”

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Have you never wondered about the foundation?”

I shrugged. “It was already in place when I took over here. I submit the required annual report. I assumed it was established by the founding families as their way of giving back.”

Mickey’s lips curved into a knowing smile as he shook his head.

My mind raced, connecting the dots. “Ethan?”

He nodded. “He set it up during his first NHL season. You know he shies away from attention, so he didn’t want his name plastered everywhere. But he’s deeply committed to his hometown.”

This revelation rattled me to my very core. The Maplewood Foundation appeared in virtually every local organization’s donor list. Foundation funds comprised nearly half the library’s annual budget. Without that support, the banned books initiative wouldn’t exist.

And I’d thoughtlessly accused Ethan of selfishness.

Shame washed over me.

“I’m not sharing this to make you feel worse.” Mickey reached across and squeezed my arm. “But you and Ethan need to have an honest conversation. Get to know who you both are now, not who you remember from high school.”

I nodded, still processing. “I owe him so many apologies.”

Mickey stood, stretching. “I should get back. But Andre, don’t let this fester. Talk to him. You might be surprised what else you discover.”

After Mickey left, closing the door behind him, my thoughts churned. Clearly, he’d held back information—it wasn’t his story to tell after all. I hoped sharing the Foundation information hadn’t betrayed a confidence. I certainly wouldn’t mention it to Ethan.

Opening a new email, I contemplated my words. After several false starts and deletions, I figured out what to send.

Hi Ethan.

Here are the judging details for your review.

Please let me know if you have any questions.

Also, if you can spare some time today, I’d like to apologize in person.

My behavior last night was inexcusable, and you deserve better.

I’ll be at or near the library most of the day.

If I’m not here, the staff can reach me and I can come right back.

I hope we can talk to ensure the next week, and beyond, goes smoothly.

Thanks, Andre.

I clicked send and hoped he’d grant me another chance, even though I hadn’t earned it.