Chapter Eleven
679 Words
The quiet of the bookstore was usually his comfort. Today, it felt like a weight.
Jack stood behind the counter, thumbing through the delivery invoice he couldn’t bring himself to process. Every few minutes, he glanced at the door, half-expecting Emma to walk in. Half-hoping she wouldn’t.
The bell finally rang mid-morning. Jack looked up, ready to greet whoever it was—but froze.
The woman who stepped inside wasn’t Emma. She looked familiar though. Brown hair in a loose braid, denim jacket, sensible sandals. She smiled gently, almost cautiously.
“Jack Bennett?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
She offered her hand. “Claire Reynolds. I don’t think we’ve formally met, but… I’m a friend of Emma’s. We went to high school together.”
Jack blinked. “Right. Claire.”
“She mentioned me?”
“Once or twice.”
Claire looked around the bookstore like it held a dozen old memories. “It hasn’t changed much.”
“Some things don’t.”
She nodded, then folded her arms across her chest. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a second?”
Jack hesitated, then gestured toward the reading table by the front window. “Sure.”
They sat in the creaking chairs, a soft silence settling between them for a moment.
“I know this is a little weird,” Claire began, her tone even. “I wouldn’t usually do this, but I was with Emma last night. After... well, after the attic.”
Jack stiffened. “She tell you what happened?”
“She didn’t have to say much. I could tell she was upset. Confused. A little embarrassed.” Claire offered a half-smile. “I figured maybe you were too.”
Jack gave a humorless laugh. “That obvious?”
Claire shrugged. “You’ve always been terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you. At least, according to Emma.”
He didn’t respond. Just looked out the window at the quiet street beyond.
Claire exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to pry, Jack. But if you’re wondering about that guy—Matt—I thought you should know… there’s nothing between them. Never was.”
Jack’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t speak. Claire kept going, gently.
“He’s a co-worker. Or was. From what I gathered, he was more into Emma than she ever was into him. One of those guys who thinks being nice entitles him to something.”
Jack looked over.
“She didn’t tell me everything,” Claire added. “But enough. She never led him on. And she certainly didn’t love him. I think she just didn’t know how to make it stop without causing a scene.”
“So why the heart next to his name?” Jack asked, quieter now.
Claire smiled sadly. “She said she put it there ages ago—before she realized how he felt. By the time she wanted to change it, she was too afraid it would start something she didn’t want to deal with.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounds familiar.”
“Yeah. Emma’s good at holding things in.”
Another beat of silence.
Claire leaned forward. “She’s been through a lot, Jack. Not just with Matt. With her mom. With coming back here and facing everything she left behind—including you.”
He looked down at his hands. “She walked away.”
“I know.” Claire’s voice was gentle, not accusing. “But not because she didn’t care.”
Jack said nothing, so Claire added, “Emma’s not perfect. But neither are you. Maybe what you both need is a little grace. And a real conversation.”
She stood, giving him a small smile.
“I should go. Just… thought you deserved to know the truth.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
As Claire turned to leave, Jack watched her go, the door swinging shut behind her. He felt something shift in him—like the ground hadn’t moved, but maybe, finally, he had.
- Writer
