Page 42 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

This was taking things too far, even if Zach was the last person who needed someone rushing to his defense.

“Now wait just a second,” I said. “A few weeks ago, you told me I needed to give Noodle a stronger, more dignified nickname. You said he had to present himself to the world in the guise he wanted to be treated.”

All at once, Jasper softened. It was like watching a hot-air balloon deflate after a long, arduous journey. “Ah, yes. But Noodle is different.”

My throat felt suddenly too thick for speech. If any other person had dared to say those words to me—Noodle is different, Noodle is other—I’d have gone fullHaunting of Hill Houseand, like Jasper’s beloved Catherine, torn them limb from limb.

For once in his life, however, Jasper wasn’t speaking from a place of judgment. He and Noodle had only been together for few days, but those days had been enough.

He saw. He knew.

“Do you happen to have the copy ofThe Haunting of Hill Housethat you wrote in?” I asked, pushing the sharp prick of tears back from my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do in front of either of these men was break down. “The library database was a bust, and I haven’t been able to find anything in the shops around town.”

Jasper blinked at me. “Of course I don’t have it.”

“Oh.” Disappointment added to all my other swirling emotions, leaving me bereft of anything to say.

Zach gently cleared his throat and filled the breach. “We figured it was a long shot, but since the other two books were easy enough to find, it seemed worth a try. Maybe we could just skip over that one for now…” He let his words trail off.

“Is this the part where you ask me to write you out a list of all the books that Catherine and I corresponded in so you can get your filthy, irreverent hands on my love story?” Jasper asked.

Since this wasexactlywhat I wanted to ask, I held my breath and waited for the answer.

“Too bad. Those are mine.Catherineis mine.”

I feared this might signal the end of his frankness, but he kept going.

“If it makes you feel better, I doubt any of those old books are still around. Why would they be? She’s the one who kept them all. And when she died, I…” He shook his head as if to rid himself of the memory. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I did. Let’s just say I’m surprised you were able to find the two books you did. Catherine must have hidden them so her parents wouldn’t find them—one in the library basement, the other in plain sight on the library shelves.”

Instead of dashing my hopes, these words filled me with a sudden burst of optimism—not just that there might be more books out there, but that they’d been saved for a reason. It was as if Catherine had known how much the discovery would mean someday…not necessarily to Jasper, but to me.

A librarian more than sixty years in the future. Someone lost and looking for answers to questions she didn’t even know she had.

“Does this mean you think she hid them on purpose?” I asked, knowing I was pushing too hard but unable to stop myself. “Because she wanted them to be safe from prying eyes? Or because she wanted them to eventually be found?”

Jasper cast me a pained look. “She didn’t hide those books for a nosy, meddling not-a-librarian to start a wild-goose chase, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Technically, it’s not a wild-goose chase if you catch the goose in the end.”

“I knew it was a mistake to let you two in here.” Jasper groaned and got to his feet, though I noticed he was careful to keep the copy ofA Farewell to Armsclose at hand. “Go home. Leave me alone. Stop poking your nose into a past that’s gone, buried, and already mourned.”

Since Jasper had clearly reached the end of his patience, I gave in and stepped toward the door. My steps were helped along by the gentle press of Zach’s hand on the small of my back.

We’d made it to the door and were in the act of slipping our shoes back on when Jasper spoke again.

“Ifshe hid the rest of them, it was because she knew her parents would have found a way to destroy them,” he said, his tone so soft that I could barely hear him over the beating of my heart. “They didn’t approve of the two of us.”

The question popped out before I could stop it: “Because you were a logger?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “Someone’s been doing her homework,” he said. Then, “Yes. Because I was a logger and she was the daughter of an Air Force officer. Because I didn’t have money and she did. Because the only thing I had to offer was a windowless one-bedroom apartment above the hardware store, and she deserved the world.”

This was so sad that I had to pause a moment and remind myself to breathe. To most people, those barriers didn’t sound insuperable, but I wasn’t most people. Books were always trying to teach us that the power of love could overcome any hardship and that money didn’t buy happiness. In many ways, I believed those things to be true—I really did.

But crossing that line was a lot to ask of someone. Especially someone you loved.

“I’m sorry,” I said and meant it.

Jasper must have sensed my sincerity because he offered me one final gift.