The Boyfriend Goal (Love and Hockey Book 1)

Josie

The library’s open the next day since lots of patrons like to hang out with books they can borrow during the holidays. As Wes drives me to work—he’s seriously the best chauffeur with or without a shirt—my phone pings with an email. The envelope icon winks at me on the top of the screen.

A promise, full of hope. It’s from the library in Petaluma. “This might be it,” I say, then I tell him who it’s from.

“Open it right now,” he says as he pulls up in front of my little library and turns off the engine. I only have a few more days here.

I click on it, and it takes all of three seconds for my heart to sink.

It’s the “that said” in the email.

It’s one of those turns of phrases that means a rejection is coming. We enjoyed the interview with you immensely and you were one of our top candidates, but that said, we had many exemplary candidates for the information specialist role. We wish you the best in your job search.

I hate that I want to cry.

“You’ll get the next one,” he says, reaching for my hand and squeezing it.

I nod, then fight off the disappointment welling in my chest and go inside. It’s hard to focus on work, even though I try. It’s hard to focus on anything but the ticking clock, especially when we gather for our last trivia night after my shift—a farewell party for me.

“You’ve done wonders,” Thalia says. “Perhaps something will come up in the future…”

“I hope,” I reply, and I do, even though the odds don’t seem to be in my favor.

The next morning, I keep that focus on hope. In the afternoon, my phone trills as I’m finishing up a display of the best edge-of-your-seat romantic thrillers in audio.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

The Violet Delia Foundation for Library Digital Empowerment is calling. Thalia’s walking past me, so I wave it her way. “Look,” I croak out, barely able to accept the call.

“Answer it now,” she says, sounding nearly as excited as I am, but a lot more demanding.

They don’t call you unless it’s good news. That’s the first fact of interviewing. But I’m so nervous it takes me two tries to actually take the call. “Hi, this is Josie.”

“This is Violet Delia. It’s good to hear your voice again.”

“It’s great to hear yours,” I say.

“I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” she says.

Oh my god there’s no bad time when you’re calling. “I’m available,” I say, bright and upbeat and full of double meaning.

I hope she’s picking up what I’m putting down. “Good, I hope you’re available for this too. I want to make you an offer.”

My dream job. I’m about to get my dream job.

I’m a pinball machine, whirring with a high score as she continues. “We love what you’ve done at the branch in the Upper Haight with the grant. The training that you’ve done, the work with the digitization center, and the efforts to educate patrons on media literacy are exactly why this foundation exists. And we want you to keep doing it.”

My hand flies to my mouth. This is too much. This is too good to be true. This is everything.

“I would love to.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. There’s only one little stipulation.”

I tense, then say with some trepidation, “What is it?”

“The job is in Boston.”