Chapter 17 Ava: Settling In
Chapters 11-17 have been rewritten to improve story flow and pacing. [June 27, 2024]
The men at the door look related. So related that I'd bet they're twins.
"Hi," the one on the left says, with a charming smile. They have close-cropped brown hair and twinkling brown
eyes, with popular kid in high school written all over them. They have to be in their mid-twenties now, though.
"Hi," | respond, with ssuspicion. Is this that legendary thing called solicitation? Are they here to sell me
something?
If so, they're screwed. Selene got to my wallet first.
"Mrs. Elkins sent us," the guy on the right says, and | turn my gaze to him, relaxing a little.
"Oh?" Mrs. Elkins wouldn't just send someone without warning me.
Checking my phone, | see a missed text.
[MRS. ELKINS: Don't forget that Ben and Franklin are coming to help put up sshelves in the living room. You
can send them away if you're not up to it.]
Oh, right. | vaguely recall sconversation like that last week. Probably something I should have added to my
phone so | wouldn't be surprised at a tlike this.
"The shelves," | say, glancing back up.
Both of them smile. They're identical, though one's a little more burly and the other wears glasses. "I'm Ben," the
one with glasses offers, turning up the wattage of his grin.
"Franklin," the other supplies, reaching out to shake my hand. He has a wedding ring. The other doesn't. "My
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtwife is Mrs. Elkin's grand-niece."
Ah, they're family.
Much more at ease now, | step back to invite them in. Selene gives them both a quick once-over, yawns, and
jumps onto the couch, pawing at something black.
"Looks like you're dogs a bit of a couch potato," Ben says with a laugh.
When I look closer, | can see that Selene's got her paws on the remote. | can see how that's amusing; the idea of
a dog who watches TV would makelaugh, too.
Still, no part ofreacts to that lightly flirtatious laugh or the interested glances he sends my way. He's just a
quy.
| guess Alphahole Lucas Westwood has ruinedfor romance.
Rubbing that familiar pain in my sternum, we glance through a few of the boxes to figure out how many shelves
we need.
There are at least fifteen boxes of books, and—as it turns out—I don't feel like parting with any of them.
Who gets rid of books?
Sof them are old and well-worn. Others are brand new, probably old overstock for the store.
Franklin pulls out a tape measure, jotting down snumbers as he assesses the living room walls. "Alright, so if
we put the tall shelves against this wall, we can probably fit the short ones under the window. How's that
sound?"
I nod, impressed by his spatial awareness. "That works for me. I'm not picky, as long as they're sturdy enough to
hold all these books."
Ben chimes in, "Oh, don't worry about that. We'll make sure they're anchored well. Wouldn't want any accidents."
He flashesa friendly smile, but it lacks the flirtatious edge from earlier. Seems he's picked up on my
disinterest.
As they get to work, | sort through the boxes, organizing the books by genre. It's a daunting task, but there's
something satisfying about handling each book, deciding where it belongs. Fiction, non-fiction, classics,
contemporary... the piles grow steadily.
Hours pass in a blur of measuring, drilling, and sorting. Selene dozes on the couch, unbothered by the
commotion.
I'm surprised by my own energy, considering the fever still simmers under my skin. But there's a buzzing in my
veins, a sense of purpose that keepsgoing.
Finally, the shelves are up, and most of the books are in place. | step back, admiring the transformation. What
was once a bare living room now feels like a cozy library, ready for rainy day reading sessions.
"Looks great, doesn't it?" Franklin grins, wiping his brow.
"It really does. Thank you both so much." Gratitude swells in my chest. These strangers, now tentative friends,
have givenmore than just shelves. They've helpedbuild a home.
As they pack up their tools, Franklin reaches into his pocket. "Oh, before | forget—my wife wantedto give you
this." He handsa colorful flyer. "We host a weekly barbecue over the summer, kind of a community thing.
You're more than welcto join us."
| take the flyer, touched by the gesture. "That's so kind of you. I'll definitely try to make it."
Ben nods, shouldering his toolbox. "It's a great way to meet people. And the food's not bad either." He winks, but
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmit's more friendly than flirty.
After a round of goodbyes and more thank yous, | close the door behind them. Leaning against it, | let out a long
breath. The apartment feels different now. Not just because of the shelves, but because of what they represent.
A fresh start, a chance to build something of my own.
Selene stretches on the couch, blinking atsleepily. | laugh softly, crossing the room to join her. "Lazy pup. You
slept through all the hard work."
She yawns, nuzzling into my hand as | pet her. For a moment, | let my mind wander. | think of Ben, of his easy
smiles and helpful demeanor. In another life, maybe | would have been drawn to him. But now...
I sigh, shaking my head. Lucas Westwood. Even here, hundreds of miles away, he haunts me. The memory of his
touch, his scent, the way he looked at me, is seared into my soul. And the way he looked atafter—
No. I can't think about that. | won't let him ruin this for me, this fragile new life I'm building.
Romance isn't in the cards for me, not now. Maybe not ever. And that's okay.
Selene whines softly, as if sensing my melancholy. | scratch behind her ears, forcing a smile. "We've got each
other, right? That's enough."
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