everything & the moon (everything & then some book 1)

the difference

the difference

     The first time Marcus had met Sienna had been on a dark, gloomy day, about a year and a half ago. He'd come to his uncle's bookstore in the morning, expecting to have a quick friendly chat with him and purchase a newspaper as he usually did.

     Instead, he'd found his uncle showing a strange young woman how to use the cash register.

     His uncle had looked up as he'd walked in the door and smiled in welcome.

     "Good morning Uncle Kenji," he'd greeted, though his eyes seemed determined to remain glued on her. She'd been much thinner then, with huge haunted eyes. When his uncle had introduced him to her, she'd been unable to meet his gaze for more than a second, and had mumbled an incoherent greeting.

     Despite this, he'd found her fascinating.

     As he'd been walking out the door, his uncle had pulled him aside to chat privately.

     "She could really use a friend, Marcus," he'd said, a troubled look on his face. "I hired her because she needed a safe place, but a grizzly old man like me and a little high school girl are the only people she has right now and we can only help so much."

     "Willow brought her?" he'd asked surprised. Willow was one of his students, and had been holing out at the bookstore ever since she could read, according to his uncle. He'd wondered what her connection to Sienna had been.

     "Indeed. She knows I have a soft spot for strays. It took me a long time to convince her to accept my help. One must take baby steps with that one. She can be surprisingly stubborn."

     Marcus, who also had a soft spot for strays, agreed to do as asked. He'd made it his business to drop by the bookstore every day to check on her, if possible, even if just to say hello. When Willow had discovered what he was doing, she'd begun updating him on her every now and then as well.

     The first day Sienna had actually initiated a conversation with him had been months later. She'd seen him having some difficulty choosing between two mystery novels and had quietly approached him.

     "This one," she'd said, lightly tapping the cover of the one in his left hand. "It has a much more satisfying ending."

     Surprised, his gaze had flown to her face. He'd arched a brow.

     "You read mystery novels?"

     "I read most novels,"she'd responded after a brief hesitation.

     "Even the trashy ones?" he'd asked, nodding his head at the erotic novel section near the end of the aisle.

     She'd blushed.

     "They're not trash," she'd protested weakly before scurrying away, embarrassed.

     He'd grinned after her, amused.

     Since that day, she'd been a little less resistant to conversing with him, though she was remained distant and at times uncomfortable. It was a small comfort that she was the same way with others he'd observed her interacting with, even his uncle.

     He'd respected that distance, sensing she'd bridge the gap when she was finally comfortable.

     Thus, it was no surprise that he froze at the sight of her allowing someone strange to hold her so closely.

     Surprise, and jealousy.

     This shifted into concern when he heard a sob escape her, the sound spurring him into action.