Go to the police station

Emily didn’t go home.

She couldn’t.

Her hands were still trembling as she stepped out of the library, too small loaner jacket zipped up over her chest, the edges flapping with every gust of wind. The boy’s shocked face haunted her—the way his mouth had opened but no sound came out, the confusion, the panic, the shame.

And the cuffs.

God, the cuffs.

He hadn’t even touched her.

She took a sharp breath and climbed into her car, her fingers shaking too hard to slot the key in right away. Once the engine turned over, she backed out of the lot and drove straight to the local police station.

-0-

The station wasn’t far—less than fifteen minutes from the library. The exterior was a squat building, sun-bleached and unassuming. Inside, the lobby felt sterile and cold, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing over linoleum floors and dull blue chairs.

She approached the front desk with a tight jaw and too-fast steps.

“Hi—I need to speak to someone about a mistake. At the library,” she said. “There was an arrest just now. A teenage boy.”

The officer at the desk raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, are you the reporting party?”

“No. I’m the woman from the incident. Emily Davenport.” She glanced at the officer’s name tag. “Please. I was there. I need to clear this up.”

The officer typed something, then picked up the phone. “Wait here.”

-0-

Ten minutes later, Emily sat in a plain interview room—metal table, cheap plastic chairs—across from a young detective in rolled-up sleeves and reading glasses. He offered no judgment, just a pen and paper.

“Detective Alvarez,” he said. “Why don’t you walk me through what happened.”

She did.

Everything.

The book. The torn shirt. The boy’s stunned silence. The accidental exposure. Her own panic. “He didn’t touch me,” she said, voice cracking. “He didn’t do anything. It was an accident, and I overreacted. I was embarrassed, and—stupid. I kept telling people that nothing happened, but nobody listened to me no matter what I said.”

Alvarez didn’t interrupt. Just took notes.

When she finished, he nodded slowly.

“You’re not pressing charges.”

“No. God, no. I want the report dropped. I’ll give a statement, anything you need.”

“We’ll need it in writing.” He passed her a formal release of complaint.

Emily signed immediately.

-0-

Outside the station, the sun was still too bright. Her skin felt too hot. Her shirt stuck to her back.

But the boy was free. The charges would be dropped. And whatever the fallout… she had done the only thing she could do.

Even if it was too late to undo the worst moment of his life.