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a shelf does not an apology make

CHARLOTTE

I stepped closer and eyed the books.

They were all textbooks, textbooks and materials that fit into the course I was taking.

What the…?

My hands trailed over the spines. A few of them were books I couldn’t even find in the library. But here they were, sitting pretty on the shelf, brand new. And I had no idea how they got there.

Or… did I?

I didn’t know much about woodwork, or furniture. But as I studied the massive thing in front of me, I thought back to the pounding Taide had been using the bother the house the past week. He’d said he was building a…

Shit.

My mind went to the brief conversation I’d had with Madeline in the car a few days ago; Taide had asked about my major for some reason, and I guessed this was it.

I was stunned.

Stunned and confused.

How was I meant to react to this? With relief because I just might be able to pass my midterms now? The selection of reading material was a valedictorian’s wet dream.

Or… maybe I should be angry that Taide once aga
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