Page 8 of Defining Us

Yeah, tell that to your nether regions.

Joel tucked the book under his arm, and his eyes shifted downward to her cell phone sitting next to the keyboard. Another notification from the dating app lit up the home screen, and she quickly turned the phone over.

“Sorry. How unprofessional,” she uttered, embarrassed beyond belief.

He didn’t acknowledge her apology with anything other than his usual scowl, which seemed to have intensified. Eventually, he swallowed thickly and said, “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

Then he was out the door, giving her one last shot of his bite-worthy backside before she went back to work. The after-school crowd barreled in a few hours later, and Vivian finally emerged from the storage room she’d been working in all day. She plopped into the chair beside Mallory and sighed wearily.

“Nothing exhausts me more than the book sale,” Vivian said, stretching her arms above her head.

The biannual book fair was the library’s biggest fundraiser. The last sale had occurred mere weeks before Mallory joined the team, back when she’d been crafting lattes alongside Karla at the bakery. She’d taken any job available when she first moved to Honeysuckle, desperate to pay the bills. In addition to being a barista, she’d also worked as a dog nanny for the Burton family, who owned the grandest house in town.

But when Julie, the longtime circulation supervisor, decided to retire, word got to Mallory. She had prayed for months that she’d somehow wiggle onto the library staff, and the stars aligned perfectly. Considering her past experience as associate director of adult programs at the city library’s main branch, she was a shoo-in for the job—was honestly overqualified when it came down to it.

And yet, there was a bone-deep need to prove she was an invaluable asset to Vivian. Mallory’s life revolved around this building, and it was imperative to do whatever she could to hold on to it.

“I had an idea, actually,” Mallory began.

Vivian’s eyes sparkled. “You know how I love your ideas.”

“What do you think about organizing a silent auction? I can solicit donations from local businesses. Gift cards, things like that. Could be a good way to boost funds.”

“Brilliant, as always. Run with it. Let me know if you need any help shaking down storefronts,” Vivian added with a grin. “And you know what I realized? Next Saturday is also your six-month anniversary.”

Mallory glanced at the desk calendar. “Oh, wow. You’re right.”

“We have to do a formal evaluation. Let’s plan for the following Monday since the sale will keep us busy.”

She gulped at the wordsformal evaluation. Like many jobs, the library had a six-month probationary period. Yet another reason why she’d gone above and beyond—coming in early, leaving late, and spearheading programming efforts. Anything to show that she deserved to stay. Deserved to belong.

“Sounds good,” Mallory replied with a restless nod.

Vivian noticed her unease and gave her a supportive smile. “Just a formality. Nothing to worry about. Hell, you’ll be running this place in my stead one day.”

The assurance alleviated some of her nerves, but not all. Her time in Honeysuckle had provided a smidgen of stability, but a large piece of her still felt terribly unmoored. As if everything she’d worked so hard to establish could disappear in a single instant. The rug had been ripped out from under her once before, and now she lived with that possibility forever in the back of her mind.

Maybe she’d finally feel some semblance of security once her probationary period was in the rearview mirror. Maybe she could relearn to trust people after her sense of self was razed to the ground. Maybe the old Mallory she yearned for could be revived.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

When she returned home later that evening, she toed off her flats and donned her house slippers. Sushi was ordered and wine was poured, and she opened the windows to let the evening breeze into the ordinary one-bedroom apartment. After dinner arrived, she settled on the couch and waded through the app messages.

There were a few creeps, a few with questionable politics, and one whose features reminded her way too much of her father. But two profiles held promise, so she sent basic replies to both. The entire process was draining, but a sense of accomplishment bubbled within her once she finished.

More progress.

But through it all, she tried not to think about cruising down the country roads with Joel at her side.

THREE

Foster Auto Bodystood at the tail end of Honeysuckle’s business district, right before Main Street went from shop-lined to rural. A large plot of land sat next to the slate-gray building, with several cars clustered on top of the gravel, Mallory’s included. The garage doors were closed, and the place appeared locked up tight as she approached.

It was after five in the evening, and although Joel had instructed her to arrive whenever, she should’ve called to confirm someone was still there. But a small light illuminated the office window, and she breathed a sigh of relief once she peeked inside. Because Joel sat at one of the desks, his feet propped up and a book in his lap.

Encouragement bloomed in her chest, her silly crush now at DEFCON 1. The shop closed hours ago, yet here he was, waiting on her arrival. But pesky rationality pulled her back down to earth. The man ran a business, and she owed him money, so he’d stuck around to collect. Nothing more, nothing less. She tapped on the window to get his attention, and he coasted a few steps over to answer the door.

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