Page 3 of Best of Me

More fucked up than any of that is that it took Valorie dying to change my perception. I spent so much of my adolescent years wishing she would just disappear so our parents would love me the way they did her. I thought maybe if she was gone, all of my shortcomings wouldn’t be so noticeable.

Now, Valorie’s gone, and me…I’m still not good enough for them.

The sound of my phone ringing through my car’s speakers pulls me from my inner turmoil. I don’t bother to see who’s calling—my best friend Ashley is the only person who would bother. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

“Mally, you’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.” The sound of her voice soothes my frayed nerves.

“Easy for you to say,” I groan, flicking on my blinker as my GPS bings, signaling me to turn.

“I know it’s hard being so close to home—”

“Not my freaking home,” I grumble over her, but she presses on.

“But you’re a boss, Mally. You’ve got this. Plus, you’re not actually in your hometown, just…near it.”

“I’m still too close. Anywhere in this godforsaken state is too close. Swear on all that’s holy, it’s like the universe is messing with me with this job. Out of everywhere I applied, the only place to offer me a job is located fifteen minutes outside of my own personal hell.”

“Orrrrrrrr,” she starts, drawing out the word, “maybe the universe knows that you need closure. But, being the stubborn bitch you are, the powers that be decided to intervene and are forcing you to face your skeletons.”

I scoff as I turn into the quaint little drive for the bed-and-breakfast I’ll be calling home until I find a rental. “Right. Because it’s just that easy. Move back to Hell, face the Devil, and then everything will be all happy-happy-joy-joy.”

“I never said it was gonna be easy. Real talk, Mally, it’s probably going to hurt like a bitch. From what I know of your…family…there may even be some bloodshed. I know it’s hard and that you’d rather be anywhere else. But I truly think, that in the long run, this will be good for you. Who knows, Bay Ridge may even be where you belong.” Ashley is a big believer in fate—and all of that other woo-woo crap.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to rebuke her, but I bite back the words—not because I agree with her, but because she’s the one person on this earth who’s on my side, and the thought of fighting with my only friend isn’t particularly appealing.

A long-suffering sigh escapes my lips, and Ashley changes the subject—hallelujah for small mercies. “Have you found anywhere to rent yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“Just make sure it’s safe.”

I snort out a little laugh. “Ash. This place is Cottonwood on steroids. Bay Ridge is so quaint, the freaking trashcans in town are housed in flower planters. Let that sink in…the trashcans have flowers.”

She snorts out a little laugh. “Still. Flower-domed receptacles doesn’t necessarily equal no crime.”

“Will it make you feel better if we video chat when I check them out?”

“Immensely.”

“As you wish,” I mutter, quoting our favorite movie. “I’m gonna go get checked in, I’ll text you later.” After we say our goodbyes, I press the power button on the dash, killing the engine. Outside, I stretch—it may have only been a three-hour drive, but when everything you own is crammed into your small, two-door hatchback with you, three hours may as well be an eternity.

The Wilde Bed and Breakfast, named after Irish poet and playwright Oscar Wilde, is a soft pink, turn of the century Queen Anne Victorian-style house with pristine white trim, and a large, welcoming front porch that faces a tree-lined street. Like the rest of the town, it simply oozes charm.

The check-in process goes smoothly, and due to a last-minute cancellation, the owner upgraded me to their king suite, which has an old clawfoot soaker tub. The thought of a long, hot bath honestly sounds better than sex. Sadly, it’s been about the same length of time—way too long—since I’ve had either. My apartment in Cottonwood only had a small shower stall, and my ex-boyfriend was far more concerned with sexing up his side pieces than he ever was with me.

My room is tastefully decorated with neutral-colored walls trimmed with ornate molding. The flooring looks to be original to the house, but most of it in here is covered with a beautiful oriental rug. The bed is high off the floor and made up with a thick comforter and more throw pillows than I’ve ever seen in one place. A quick peek into the en suite shows me that, aside from the glorious tub, it’s nothing fancy; but with that beauty of that bathtub, who the heck cares?

I quickly unpack, tossing my casual clothes into the little four-drawer dresser in the corner before hanging my work clothes in the armoire—hopefully they didn’t get too wrinkled, because let’s just say ironing is not my thing. I set my laptop up at the small writing desk, plug my phone charger in next to the nightstand, and fish my Kindle out of my bag and toss it onto the bed.Home sweet home,until I find a real home…it’s not much, but it’ll definitely do.

chapter two

Mallory

The weekend passes in a blur, and before I know it, Monday morning is dawning. Normally, Mondays are the worst, but I have a meeting scheduled with the principal of Bay Ridge Elementary today, so I’m up with the sun, excitement and anxiety both swirling inside my gut. As much as being this close to my hometown sets me on edge, I know how blessed I am to have been offered this teaching position. While I applied to pretty much every school within a hundred miles, Bay Ridge pays their teachers above and beyond any of the other schools I applied to, and they have great benefits.

I’ve spoken to Mr. Simms several times over the phone, and we’ve corresponded countless times by email, but this will be our first time meeting face-to-face; needless to say, I want to make a stellar first impression. I take my sweet time getting ready, soaking in the tub with a mask on my face and a conditioning treatment in my hair.

Two hours later, my long locks are styled in loose waves, and I’m dressed in a polka-dotted, navy-blue blouse tucked into a pair of high-waisted toffee-colored linen pants, with cork wedges on my feet. Professional yet quirky, this is my go-to interview outfit. It might be a little loud to some, but it’s sototallyme, which is something I value. After trying to be someone else for so long, my identity isn’t something I’m willing to compromise on—ever—for anything or anyone.

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