Chapter 3
3
PENNY
PRESENT DAY. MAY.
“You son of a bitch,” I muttered, furiously clicking my mouse. “It’s the fucking twenty-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 was that time 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, even covering 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 had never lost 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.
I could always do it myself, but I already ran the weekday groups, and people would definitely get sick of my voice. Plus, with summer coming, it was time to take a serious look at the budget, which meant one thing: fundraising.
Last year, the Cassidys were kind enough to let me utilize their booth to help raise money. Though it was a hit, I didn’t want to be a nag and ask them again this year. That meant I had to get creative.
The mental load of the day had drained me completely, and the Word doc staring back at me felt like too much.
At this point, productivity was a lost cause, and I decided it was time to call it quits and head home.
Besides, I had plans to go out with my friends tonight.
In the last year, our group grew in size. Not to mention, grown closer, too.
Four months ago, Theo had her baby—Frankie, the cutest damn little girl I’d ever seen. She would bring her into the library sometimes, and every time I saw that stroller roll through the door, I couldn’t help but squeal.
Frankie was a mini Theo, with dark features and hazel eyes, but her personality? That was all Rhodes. It was uncanny, really, considering he wasn’t biologically her father. But that man loved that little girl with his entire chest. Watching them together made something tight squeeze inside me.
Then there was Boone’s little sister, Ellie, finally back home after nearly a year of traveling the country. Naturally, she’d slipped right into our circle like she always belonged. A lot had changed while she was gone, though, and catching her up had taken time.
So much happened the last year between babies, self-discovery, and new love I couldn’t possibly imagine what else life had in store for us.
Shoving my laptop into my tote bag, I grabbed my water bottle and made my way to the door. I needed time to get ready, to mentally prepare for the stress-inducing event I’d have to face tonight.
Seeing Mac.
A heavy sigh escaped me at the thought.
It was unfortunate, really, that things between us hadn’t worked out. Not for lack of trying on my part, but because that man was a piece of work.
I couldn’t even look at him without my stomach flipping like a damn pancake and my anxiety spiking to nearly uncontrollable levels.
But if I wanted to go out with my friends, I had to suck it up because when we went to The Tequila Cowboy, Mac would always be there. I guess I could count my lucky stars that when I saw him, alcohol was always available.
Not a single one of our friends had any idea how much it cost me to show up every time because what Mac and I had? It was a secret that ended before it could ever turn into anything more than a friends-with-benefits situation.
Being near him made my heart race uncontrollably, my skin prickle with frustration, with anger. With everything I wished I didn’t still feel.
I waved as I said my goodbyes to Crystal at the circulation desk, who returned it with a warm smile. Pushing through the front doors, I stepped into the May air, my skirt billowing around me as I walked down the quiet street.
I lived just a few blocks away, in a small apartment above the local flower shop.
Sandy, the shop’s owner, had been running the place since her early twenties. It was her baby, the legacy she and her husband had built together. But after Hank passed away a few years ago, the shop—and the apartment above it—became hers alone.
Sandy was a godsend, the very definition of a Southern grandma. White hair teased into the perfect poof, a spunky spirit, and a slender frame that somehow still carried the strength of a woman who had spent her life tending to flowers and people alike.
Over the years, she’d come to think of me as the granddaughter she never had, and truthfully, I felt strongly about her, too.
Lifting my face to the sky, I let the last remnants of sunlight warm my skin as I made my way home. The streets of Faircloud bustled with familiar faces, and I greeted each one with a smile. In a town this small, you knew everyone. Pleasantries were exchanged in passing, conversations quick but genuine.
When I reached the flower shop’s entrance, I pushed open the door and leaned inside.
“Good evening, Sandy!” I called out, gripping the doorframe to hold my weight from falling inside. “Hi, my sweet Penelope!” she chimed, waving at me from behind the counter.
She wore my favorite apron—sage green with a white checkered print, the fabric soft and worn from years of love.
“Do you need anything before I head upstairs?” I asked.
Sandy wiped her hands on her apron, thinking for a moment. “I think I’m good today. Tomorrow may be a different story,” she replied with a grin.
“You know where to find me,” I answered, chipper as ever.
“Why don’t you come down after you get settled? I have some leftover pizza that I made at home. I hate to know you always eat alone.”
I sighed. Every night, she tried to convince me to join her for dinner. As much as I appreciated it and sometimes gave in, I did have someplace to be.
“I can’t tonight,” I said, giving her a sweet smile. “Rain check?”
“Of course, dear.”
I blew her a kiss before disappearing up the stairs to my apartment.
The second I stepped inside, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief.
Kicking off my shoes, dropping my bags by the door—I was home.
My safe haven of colors and comfort. The one place where I could let go of the day and just be. Here, I didn’t have to be anything but myself—chaotic, carefree, light.
Crossing the room, I connected my phone to the kitchen speaker and hit play. Music filled the apartment, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace, loud enough to follow me from room to room.
First task, dinner.
I needed to eat something before heading out tonight. With a couple of hours to spare, I opened the fridge and stared at the contents, debating my options before finally pulling out a salad kit and some fresh fruit to toss in.
After eating, I’d shower and then get ready to meet everyone. I needed to give myself one hell of a pep talk in the mirror.
Swaying my hips to the beat, I dumped the lettuce into the bowl and added fruit, croutons, and some strawberry vinaigrette before carrying it to my dining room table and sitting crisscross apple sauce. The music filled the space, but I sat in my own head, shoveling fork full after fork full of lettuce into my mouth.