After coming out of a disturbing relationship, a devastated Mallory decides she needs change, hoping a change of scenery and career will be the answer to mending her brokenness. But she finds herself right back where she started, falling for the wro...
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Mallory
I can't believe it's mine. Actually, MINE. I sit staring through the windshield of my car at the house, MY house. Sure, it needs a fresh coat of paint and updated landscaping, but with a little TLC, she'll be as good as new.
"Aren't we so grown-up now, Mr. Pickles?"
I say to my Persian cat companion in the pet carrier beside me. He pauses mid-lick, lowering his paw to eye me with annoyance.
"I know, I know. You're mad at me. But we are here now, so you'll be getting out of kitty jail in just a minute. I promise."
The three hour drive was a long time to be caged. Even my legs were itching to stretch out. I get out to start the process of unloading the boxes of stuff piled up in the trunk and backseat of my car. I look around at the houses beside me, all in various stages of upkeep or neglect. It is an old neighborhood, and it is very likely the place to be back when it was new. I'm just a few blocks from the historic downtown, which was a key selling point for me. I can literally walk to work if I wanted to.
I just accepted a position as the head librarian/manager to the town's only library. For me, this is a dream job. I would sleep, breathe, and eat books if I could. From the moment I learned to read, books and the adventures found within became my obsession. Being an introvert, the stories let me become someone I'd NEVER be otherwise and go places that I'd never get to go, whether in this world or beyond. So, when it was time to put my hard earned college degree to use, my most obvious choice was to work for a publishing company as an editor.
I enjoyed the job, but I didn't love it. There was a lot of behind the scenes stuff that didn't sit well with me. Authors who wrote amazing stories got passed up for more well-known writers, even if those stories weren't as original or fresh. Book number twenty-six from a best-selling author always got pushed through. A lot of times, at least in my opinion, it was just a slightly different spin on the same old story. But money talks, and the company I worked for pushed for the easy sales, and not so much for the fresh, new talent.
When I came across the position at the library, something just felt right. Yes, it would be a move to a new town, but three hours wasn't too bad. I could still come home to see my parents often enough. I needed space to find myself again. Space from Josh.
