Page 11 of The Games We Play
When the sun peeked through the blinds the next morning, my first thought wasMac.
Because that night wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t sure it ever would be.
Penny: So, when are we doing that again?????
Mac: How did you know I was thinking the same thing?
Penny: I usually have that impact on people
Mac: I’ll come over right now if you want me to, no questions asked.
Penny: This is going to be dangerous…
Mac: You’re my kind of trouble (;
3
PENNY
PRESENT DAY. MAY.
“Youson of a bitch,” I muttered, furiously clicking my mouse. “It’s thefuckingtwenty-first century—you’d think computers would have learned not to freeze mid-spreadsheet by now.”
Letting out a frustrated groan, I dropped my head into my hands. Work was kicking my ass today.
I was knee-deep in budgeting, spreadsheets, and financial reports because, of course, it wasthattime of year. Not only was I the only librarian at Faircloud Public Library, but I had also somehow taken on the role of budget manager, activities coordinator, and school liaison. Apparently, my job wasn’t chaotic enough. Clearly, I enjoyed self-inflicted pain. I had a migraine so intense that my eye had started twitching.
I needed a break before I completely lost my ever-loving mind.
Glancing to my left, my eyes landed on a bright pink Post-it note stuck to my desk, a glaring reminder of the never-ending list of tasks I needed to finish by the end of the week.
I was the Post-it note queen. Those little squares of chaos were everywhere: on my walls, my desktop monitor, evencovering my refrigerator at home. If I didn’t jot something down immediately, it was gone, lost to the void forever.
Call it adulting with ADHD.
Concentration had never been my strong suit. Growing up, I hopped from one hobby to the next, never sticking with anything for long.
Except for books. Books hadneverlost their grip on me. Hence, here I was, working at the local library.
I loved my job—truly, I did. Helping people discover new worlds, lose themselves in stories, and find passion within the pages of a book was what I lived for. Research, creativity, building connections through community events, it all fueled me.
Yet, I’d been stuck in a funk lately.
Where I once found joy in organizing groups and engaging with patrons, I now felt the constant pull to retreat to my office, to hide behind my desk instead of putting myself out there.
With a sigh, I closed the tab I’d been working on and opened a new Word document. I had to plan the rest of the month’s reading schedule and, more importantly, find someone to be the group reader.
That was the real struggle.
In a town as small as Faircloud, finding new and exciting people to read to the kids was getting harder.
So far, our biggest hit was Boone. Aspen had somehow convinced her sunshine-in-a-cowboy-hat boyfriend to spend a few Sunday mornings reading to the kids. Let’s just say… watching him in that hat, mustache, and deep drawl, captivating a room full of toddlers?
Yeah. I might’ve been just a tiny bit jealous of Aspen—because,damn.
Considering all that, I couldn’t ask Boone for more of his time. He’d already done enough.
