Daniel Henderson Books Novels & Stories

Elysia demanded, trying to hide the concerned look in her eyes. Mr. Henderson's gaze darted between Elysia and the heap of books that was close to her before shrugging. “I don't know ma,” he replied, using the seconds interval to choose the right words. “Maybe six to seven weeks.” “It's telling,” she replied, stretching her hand forward to receive the books, and for some reasons, Mr. Henderson seemed to be surprised. “You've the time ma?” He demanded, handing the books over to Elysia who just smiled, adding it to the ones Mr. Henderson was looking at, some minutes ago.

“Perhaps I should be told this rule first. I wasn't aware that reading books was against the rules. He tilts his head to the side as I speak, and I don't breathe when he approaches. His nose lightly touches the side of my face, and I hear him take a deep breath of my scent. Everything about his proximity to me makes my legs feel weak until he pulls away, and I take a deep breath. - You are right. There are no rules for reading…just against this book,” he says more gently. Henderson walks over to the shelf and slides the book back into a slot that has a slot for it. “Some books hold more secrets, and trust me, that's not a secret you want. You need to forget everything you read here. — What a

The inhabited silence and the books and the warmth and the particular ease of two people who had been this way before and were always returning to it, the way you returned to things that were correct. Daniel was reading. He was actually reading — the book was one of the architecture volumes from the north wall shelves, a history of civic buildings that he had taken down in August and had been returning to in sections, reading it the way Adrian had taught him without intending to teach him: with the question underneath. What is this one saying?

Daniel left where he stood, went over to his desk, reached for his phone, dialed a number, and took slow steps back to the glass wall in the hope that the person on the other end was going to pick up his call soon. “You must really be missing me today. What’s good?” “I feel restless, that's why I called.” “Okay?!” The voice said, unsure of what Daniel wanted. “I want your opinion because you seem to have a bit more sense than Chad!” “Shoot!” Henry said. “If you have sex with a girl for the first time, how do you make sure she gets pregnant?” “Really? Are you kidding me right now? This is what you need my opinion on?” Henry said in disbelief.

What secrets could he possibly be hiding now? Lena had seen Daniel open the drawer once before, late one night when he thought she was asleep. The memory was hazy, but she distinctly remembered him retrieving a key hidden within one of his prized books on the top shelf. With trembling hands, Lena began scanning the rows of leather-bound volumes, each title meticulously chosen to reflect Daniel’s cultivated image—a man of sophistication, intellect, and taste. But now, Lena knew it was all a facade.

River’s POV He was already sitting when I arrived. A quiet corner table at a local bookstore café in Los Feliz. The kind of place with string lights inside, a smell like cinnamon and cedar, and books stacked unevenly on every windowsill. Daniel Holt didn’t look like anyone I had imagined. He wasn’t sharp like the O’Connor men. Not towering or cold like Andrew, not slick like Marcus. He wore jeans and a soft-looking navy sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hands were folded around a white ceramic mug.

Henry was one of those individuals from his past, someone he found it hard to disregard due to their history together. "Inform him to meet me at our customary location tomorrow, just prior to midnight." Daniel was acutely aware that repeatedly declining another individual's requests would only lead to additional issues that he would need to resolve. He recognized that diverting his attention away from her, even temporarily, would be advantageous. He wasn't willing to miss out on an opportunity like this, realizing that there must be a significant reason for Henry to reach out in such a manner. He knew Henry's nature of independently managing challenges without seeking external assistance.

There was an awkward silence in the room. “What is Healing water?” asked Amanda. Daniel clutches his teeth and grins. “Amanda, my mom, he is talking about my mom and she regularly goes to church, and that is where she got some healing water for the hospital. Our beloved Henry is religious,” said Daniel while slightly patting Henry’s shoulder. Henry clears his throat and adjusts his glasses on his small nose. He was a short Chinese descendant young boy. “Okay thank you, doctor, I will take care of my bandage. Daniel, I am going to check on Eric, are you coming?” Amanda asked while resting her injured arm on her hand.

They told me how they missed me; how they almost came to see me home, and then they got into an urgent matter in the packhouse and they canceled. As for Daniel, apart from hiding his emotions as in men's nature to hide their feelings, he acted like it was normal; though I could see that he missed me, too. I approached him to greet him with a handshake, but instead, he hugged me. At first, I was ‌surprised, because I only hugged Daisy but handshakes Dylan. His arms wrapped around my waist, I felt him squeezing me gently. His smell was something I never smelled before but synthetic; I'm well aware of his scent. That smell must have been some fancy cologne.

None of them knew how she did it, but it worked. This time Daniel doesn’t know what triggered his nephew to be like this. No news was relayed to him when he got up. “Giddy, I need you to calm down and look at me.” He knelt in front of his nephew, his nephew’s eye remained on the door, holding a tight grip on the notebook turning his knuckles white, his fingers almost piercing through it. “HEY.” Daniel shouts. Gideon faces him and releases the notebook. Daniel opens it and reads the crappy handwriting and his face is washed over with confusion.