45. Claire: Shock

*CLAIRE*

Sarah and I are huddled over a computer, creating a post for our social media account. “We need something catchy,” I say, my fingers hovering over the library’s keyboard.

We throw out a few ideas until we finally settle on something.

“Perfect,” Sarah grins, staring at the screen, “And we can add some pictures from last year’s carnival to grab people’s attention.”

As we finish finalizing the post, Emily walks in carrying what appears to be a stack of papers. “Look what just came from the printers,” she says, setting them down in front of us.

We all lean in to examine the flyers we’d designed yesterday. They’re vibrant and eye-catching, with bold colors and playful fonts that perfectly capture the spirit of the carnival. “They turned out great,” I say, picking one up and admiring the design.

Emily beams. “I think these will really help get the word out. We should put these up all around town. And maybe hand them out at the local schools and shops.”

“Definitely,” I agree. I think back to my time as Luna, organizing similar events for my old pack. “We need a clear schedule and plenty of volunteers. Maybe a sign-up sheet for different tasks? And we should have a few backup plans in case something goes wrong.”

Jake nods. “I can create a sign-up sheet and post it on our website and social media. We can also leave some sign-up sheets here at the library for people to fill out.”

We spend the rest of the morning finalizing details and assigning tasks. The steady rhythm of work helps to keep my mind occupied. Emily, Sarah, and Jake are all buzzing with energy, their enthusiasm contagious.

Things have been quiet today, and I find comfort in the routine of shelving books and assisting visitors. After leading story time for a group of pre-schoolers and their parents, I glance at the clock and realize it’s time for my break. I head to the employee room in the back, snagging a snack from the dated white fridge in the corner.

I snack on a few carrot sticks while I make myself a cup of coffee. When it’s finished, I settle myself at small table and snap a picture of it to attach to my check-in text to Nik. I type out a quick message and hit send.

*Claire*: [Attached Picture of Coffee] It’s not as good as the one you made me this morning, but beggars can’t be choosers ;)

I set my phone aside and sip from my mug. It doesn’t take long for my phone to bing with his reply.

*Nik*: I guess that means I’ll have to make you another one soon. Can’t have you drinking subpar coffee.

I smile down at my screen, feeling a flutter of warmth.

*Claire*: I might just take you up on that offer. You’ve set the bar pretty high.

*Nik*: Good. I like a challenge.

*Nik*: How’s your day going? Everything okay over there?

*Claire*: Things are still quiet :) It’s been busy, but good. We’re making progress on the carnival plans. It’s actually been kind of fun.

*Claire*: What about you, what are you up to? Busy saving the world?

*Nik*: Something like that. More like buried in paperwork.

Under his text, he’s attached a picture of his desk at the Pack office building. I smile and wince at the image he’s sent. He’s not joking, his desk is flooded in piles of file folders, maps, and stack after stack of papers. They cover every square surface inch of his desk.

I may or may not stare for longer than I should at the sight of one of his large tan hands poised on one of those stacks at the corner of the photo. Seeing it brings back the way that hand felt sliding against my cheek this morning before he’d turned and left, leaving me flushed and breathless in the library’s doorway. I take a quick breath and shove those thoughts away, typing out a quick response.

*Claire*: Don’t move. I’ll bring you a shredder.

Nik’s response is quick, and I can almost hear the laughter in his voice.

*Nik*: Tempting offer. But if you bring a shredder, I might just keep you here to help.

*Claire*: Thanks for the warning ;)

*Claire*: Don’t work too hard. You’ll need your energy for when you’re slaving away over the coffee machine later.

The break room door swings open and I glance up from my phone screen. Vivian walks in, balancing a tray of drinks and pastries from the coffee shop next door. The sight of my friend brings a surprised grin to my face.

“Knock, knock!”she says, setting the tray down on the table. “Thought I’d bring some reinforcements.”

I laugh, “You know the way to my heart.”

Vivian sits down across from me, sliding me one of the coffees next to my newly empty mug.

“Louisa just checked out,” she says, “I’m on guard duty for the afternoon.”

“Thanks, Vivian,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course, I did. Besides, it’s an excuse to grab some of these amazing pastries,” she says with a grin, taking a bite of a croissant.

“How did last night go at Nik’s after you left last night?”

I sigh, setting my coffee down. “It was… interesting.” I hesitate, then decide to be honest. “I tried to bring up speaking to James. To find out what information he has about Felix among other things. I thought it was the right thing to do, but Nik… he didn’t take it as well as I expected.”

Vivian’s eyebrows raise slightly. “How so?”

“He was clearly not happy about it,” I say, picking at the edge of my pastry, “ I think he’s worried about what it means, and maybe… how James might react. Honestly, I’m not sure what he was thinking. He rushed out before I could ask him.”

Vivian takes a sip of her coffee, considering my words. “That’s understandable. Nik’s protective of you, Claire. And given everything that’s happened, it’s probably hard for him to think about you reaching out to James.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I just thought he’d understand. I need to close that chapter of my life properly.”

Vivian reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll figure it out. It’s a complicated situation, and it’s okay to feel conflicted.”

I nod, taking a steadying breath. Vivian’s right, but it doesn’t stop the worry from gnawing at my stomach.

Changing the subject, I ask her, “How’s everything going over at the office?”

“Busy, as always,” Vivian replies. She stands from her seat, brushing off the crumbs from her hands. Walking behind me on her way to throw her empty coffee cup into the trash, she suddenly freezes, “I—what’s that on the back of your neck?”