ethan teller. ( @brcisedandbroken )
if anyone told her a month ago that she’d end up back in this town, she would have laughed in their face. she hasn’t set foot here in twenty-five years, since the last time she came home for christmas and had the worst fight on record with her mother. she hadn’t missed it, either. not when she was too busy being genevieve hart, executive editor-in-chief of the new york branch of harper collins. being in the position she was meant leaving her past behind and becoming a new yorker, someone willing to shove everyone out of her way in order to get to the top and damn, had she been determined to be the best. after so many years on top now, she didn’t even give a second thought to returning home until she received word that her mother was sick. her brothers were unable to come back and take care of her for the time being and gen was set on hiring a nurse if not for being guilted into it by her elder brother, saying she ought to patch things up in case things go south. it was with reluctance that she’d taken the month off ( though she’d still work from her phone ) to return home.
she was already regretting not hiring a home nurse. she’d been home a whole of five minutes before she was back into an argument with her mother, been recognized by near everyone on the street, and run into old high school friends that she’d burned by cutting them out of her life. home five minutes and it already felt like she had stepped into a nightmare. it has her fumbling for her keys and driving herself to the bar that she used to break into as a teenager only to get thrown out because the owner knew her all too well. as she makes her way through the bar, she doesn’t take much note of the people around her lest somebody else recognizes her, and ends up seated at the end of the counter, one hand coming up to rest her forehead against. it’s only when she hears shuffles from behind the bar that she finally speaks without glancing up. “whiskey, on the rocks.”
