It wasn’t lie; it was just a stretch of the truth. More than a fraction of the things out of Mallory’s mouth were an exaggeration, but I loved her for it. The world seemed brighter, livelier, the way she saw it. Her stories gave me hope that one day, I’d see the world a bit brighter, forget the past and move on.

“Your work seems to always follow you home,” she scolded. “You need a break.”

“Have you been seeing Calvin?” I prodded.

“Your brother hates me. But if he’s saying the same, then you know I’m right.”

“He does not hate you,” I countered.

“The beach mistake,” she reminded me.

It was a hot summer day, and Calvin had invited me to join him for a midday swim in the ocean.

“That wasn’t your fault,” I shrugged.

Mallory had joined at my invite, which Calvin didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t until Calvin invited Mallory to hit the volleyball he brought back and forth that the day took a turn.

“I broke his nose,” she said.

“It wasn’t broken, just slightly bruised and bloody,” I laughed. His nose bruised with a lump for days following. His fiancée? She had thought he’d been in a fight.

“He’s been weird to me ever since,” she pouted.

“He’s not weird to you,” I sighed. “I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”

He hadn’t, but I wouldn’t admit that. Although, the beach incident wasn’t the reason he avoided Mallory. Their personalities just weren’t meant to mesh.

“So, this FBI agent,” she pushed. “How long is he here?”

“I don’t know,” I answered as I realized the credits were rolling on the television. I’d missed a third of the movie entirely.

“You didn’t ask?” She raised a brow. “I saw you looking at him like you were ready to take him to bed, and you didn’t bother asking when he was going back?”

“I was not-“

“He’ll just break your heart. It’s for the best,” she added.

“What?” I pulled my legs in close, knowing what Mallory meant. She had her quirks, but I owed everything to her.

Without her, I’d still be living in my brother’s home or possibly without a home, and I’d never have thought life was worth pulling myself out of the depression I’d fallen into.

My life had taken a turn three years ago, and soon after, I’d met Mallory.

“You don’t remember what you were like right after him,” she hissed the last word. Mallory refused to say his name, like it was a poison. Honestly, it was. The toxicity I had to purge from my life, my mentality, was pure poison fed to me by the person who destroyed my life.

I didn’t want to think about him.