Fearless

by Abby Brooks

  But I wouldn’t miss seeing Alex’s house every day and wondering how I’d been so wrong about him. I wouldn’t miss watching him stroll past my house with Morgan or the sad glances the people of Wildrose had for me. I wouldn’t miss Bridget’s sniffling smile when I stepped into Overton’s, like my tragedy was hers, too.

  “I just need a chance to heal. As soon as I sell the house, I’ll find a place of my own. I love Amelia, but I need to figure out how to be myself with myself, if that makes any sense.”

  “It does. But Evie? Who you are is pretty amazing. I hope you don’t need to do too much soul searching to realize that.”

  I gave my friend another hug and pressed her cheeks together. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Nah. We’ll stay in touch. Can’t miss me if we never really say goodbye.”

  Amelia paced her living room, navigating the boxes of my things while Larry batted at the skirt swirling around her ankles. I’d never talked myself into giving the cat back, and Alex had never asked. Larry was better off with me anyway. “I am so disappointed in your spirit guides. I genuinely felt like they were pushing you to Wildrose.”

  “Maybe that was the problem. I should have been the one to interpret what my spirit guides were saying.” I arched an eyebrow as I glanced up from my notes on a potential plot that had captured my interest.

  “You know? That’s actually kind of brilliant.”

  “Besides, look at me, writing again. Maybe Alex wasn’t the point of my trip to Wildrose Maybe this was.” I pointed at the notebook in my lap.

  “Maybe you had to have your heart broken again to prove you could be fearless.”

  “Maybe. But…” I glanced around the room as if I could see my higher self/spirit guides/whatever else Amelia thought might be throwing hints my way. “I’d appreciate a chance to learn some lessons that didn’t hurt so much. I really liked Alex.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I really liked him, too. Or at least I thought I did.”

  In the week since I left Wildrose, I’d heard from Alex exactly zero times. “He got what he wanted from me and showed his true self. Feel like I fell for the old switcheroo. Again.”

  “Have you talked to his sister? Do you know if he took out that scene?”

  “Why would he? If the whole point of pretending to like me was to finish his book, why would he change it?”

  “I don’t know. Something just seems…off…about the way he reacted.”

  I bobbed my head. Everything about what happened to me in Wildrose seemed off, especially because I’d begun to think I could call that place home. That I’d found friends who understood me and the perfect eccentric town to help me find my way back to myself. “Twice now I’ve had someone I cared about steal a piece of me and share it with the world.”

  Amelia made a sad face, but I held up a hand.

  “Drew stole my book and it hit the top of the charts. And it sucks that I didn’t get to experience that ride, but still. My words. My characters. My book. I did that. Alex was right. Drew will never do that again because he just doesn’t have what it takes, but apparently I do.” I pointed at my notebook. “And I’m going to do it again. And this time, my name will be on the cover.”

  “And the checks.”

  I laughed. “That’ll be a nice change of pace, too.”

  When Alex’s book hit the shelves, it was sure to skyrocket into fame. His name alone was enough to create buzz around a new release, but, like it or not, that story was one of his best. He outdid himself with…well…everything.

  And even though I hated seeing myself the way he saw me, scared, meek, so freaking taupe I wanted to vomit, I was gonna be part of that success.

  Me.

  I made that character compelling.

  No one would know. No one but me, Alex, and Amelia. Maybe his friends. Probably Izzy. But when his book succeeded, that would be because of me, too.

  There was something empowering in that.

  Whenever the voice of fear spoke up, whispering to me in the middle of the night that Alex had stolen from me, used me, that the whole world would get to see the weakest parts of me, I reminded myself that I was about to hit the top of the charts again.

  Sometimes I cried, but more and more, I found myself smiling.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Alex

  Watching Evie move out of her house should have made me feel like I’d done the right thing. It should have been a celebration of chivalry to do my White Knight Syndrome proud. Instead, it sank my heart into my stomach, where it stayed for weeks.

  I finished the book, carefully weaving the ending together with the threads I’d started in the beginning. Pulling plot points, subtext, and character arcs into a finale that felt like a fucking nuclear bomb. My thrillers were known to keep people on the edge of their seats, but this one…this one…

  It had depth.

  Emotion.

  The payout was beautiful as I crafted the female lead to fit the way I truly saw Evie. Yes, she was the framework for my character. Yes, she was right to hit me with all those accusations when she stormed into my house, but she was so wrong when she believed I saw her as meek, mild, and fearful.

  Eveline McAllister had a quiet grace. A gentle fearlessness that had gone into hiding after that asshole Stephens gave her a reason to doubt how people would treat her, but it was there when she chased me to my car all those years ago. It was still there when she crept downstairs in her underwear to face a ghost with nothing but her camera and a whole lot of side boob. And she was overflowing with it when she knocked on my door to call me out for using her story against her wishes.

  My life was better for having known her.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself. Meanwhile, I often forgot to shower. I barely saw my sister. I only left the house to see Mom. I’d been turning the guys down for drinks at the bar for weeks now. I wrote Evie letter after letter, pouring out my heart and soul, explaining everything and begging for her forgiveness. Only I never sent them. I’d promised to protect her, even from myself.

  My editor called the new book a triumph.

  It damn well better be because it might be the last thing I ever wrote.

  “Wouldn’t that be the worst twist of fate ever?” I asked Morgan as he plopped to the ground at my feet. “I did the right thing and chased Evie away because I didn’t want to abandon her to work, only to never write again.”

  A knock at my door sent my heart racing, calling Evie’s name. Obviously, it wasn’t her. She’d left Wildrose and never been back, but my heart hadn’t gotten the memo. It still expected to see her every time I stepped outside. Or peered out my bedroom window. Or opened my eyes in the morning.

  Whoever was out there would have to deal with disappointment. I wasn’t in the mood for company. The knocking turned into banging. “Alexander Prescott!” My sister’s voice rattled the windows. “I know you’re in there!”

  Cursing under my breath, I stood, stormed through the house, and yanked open the door. “Go away.”

  Izzy pushed past me. “Nope. Also. Wow.” She waved a hand under her nose. “When was the last time you showered? You’re ripe.”

  I sniffed an armpit and recoiled as my sister greeted a wiggling Morgan. “Welcome to depression station. We specialize in dark rooms, listless stares, and a general feeling of hopelessness. I’d offer you something to drink, but that’s too much work.”

  Izzy stood and held out a cup of coffee and a bag from Sweet Stuff. “Good thing I brought the drink to you. And some genius nuggets.” She regarded me like a venomous snake, just as likely to bite her hand as I was to accept the gifts.

  I took the coffee and avoided the jellybeans. They reminded me too much of Evie. Izzy dropped the bag on the coffee table, then yanked open the curtains covering the picture window in the living room. I flinched away from the light, fighting the urge to hiss, while covering my poor, watering eyes. The sun glinted off a brilliant January day, a fresh batch of fal
len snow glittering in the yard.

  “Oh, Alex.” Izzy sighed my name, her voice dripping with pity as she stared at me in the light. “I had no idea it was this bad.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly self-conscious as I looked down at the sweats I’d put on…how many days ago? “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. The guys are worried about you. I’m worried about you. Mom’s worried about you.”

  “I miss Evie more than I thought I would.”

  Izzy’s face hardened. “Yeah, well, you have a funny way of showing someone you care.”

  I hadn’t told Izzy why I pushed Evie away. I hadn’t told her the choice was breaking me. That I’d done what I did to keep from being a repeat of Mom and Dad. Why bother? It wouldn’t change things. Evie was still better off without me.

  “Have you heard from her?” I asked. The neediness in my voice betrayed me. I cleared my throat and turned away.

  “I have. And let me tell you, you did a number on her. It says a lot about how much you mean to me that I’m here at all after how you behaved.”

  “Is she okay? Where is she?” I shuffled toward my sister, eager for even a sliver of information.

  Izzy frowned, her intelligent eyes narrowing as she studied me intently. “She’s writing. For what that’s worth.”

  The smile that stretched my face almost hurt. “That’s wonderful!”

  “She even said she might submit it to an agent when it’s done.”

  I dropped onto the couch, so overwhelmed with emotion I didn’t feel like I had the strength to stand. “Tell her to do it. Don’t let her back away. I’ll call my agent…wait, what genre is she writing? It doesn’t even matter. I’ll still call my agent because I’m sure she knows someone who will want this book…”

  I glanced at Izzy, who regarded me like she’d stumbled across a strange, new lifeform. “I’m not sure getting her published is the kind of atonement you need to make.”

  I waved the statement away. “It’s the least I could do.”

  “No. The least you could do is treat her with kindness and respect. You know, be the kind of man I thought you were instead of the douchebag you turned out to be.”

  I recoiled. “You’re out of line.”

  “No. You’re out of line. You’ve been so different lately. First, you act like you’re falling head over heels for this woman, and we were all so surprised. Happy, but surprised. Then, out of the blue, you turn on her and basically say you’ve been using her the whole time—which doesn’t sound like you. At all. And now, you’re wallowing in a month’s worth of Mike’s bags and burger wrappers, talking about getting Evie published.” Izzy paced toward the door. “I don’t know this version of you.”

  “Or maybe you never really knew me at all.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I stopped by to tell you it was time to get your life together. You messed up. Big. It’s time to own it and move on. But, now I think I’m here to tell you you’re being a particular kind of asshole. Maybe you’re more like Dad than I wanted to admit.” She yanked open the door. “Enjoy the jellybeans,” she said, then disappeared into the blinding day.

  Chapter Forty

  Evie

  Amelia’s doorbell rang and I looked up from my laptop.

  Fifty chapters.

  Eighty-seven thousand words.

  All in a few months.

  I’d never written so fast, but the story was pouring out of me. It felt like healing. Like growing. Like finding myself again and realizing I was kind of a badass all along.

  With a sigh, I stood, crossing the small apartment in a few steps. I’d meant to sell the house in Wildrose Landing as quickly as I could and move out of Amelia’s living room, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it on the market.

  At first, I blamed it on the season. No one buys a house in winter.

  Then, on the book. I was too busy to focus on selling the place.

  But the truth was, I was scared. Scared to think about my time there. To process how quickly I fell in love with someone who didn’t feel the same. Or maybe just scared to close the door on that brief time in my life. Whatever the reason, the time had come to move on. As soon as I finished the chapter I was working on, I’d contact a real estate agent and put Sugar Maple Hill on the market.

  I opened the door to an annoyed young man. “I need you to sign for this,” he said, thrusting a box into my hands and holding out a digital doohickey. I scribbled my name on the device, then closed the door, perching on the couch to open the package.

  Inside was a book with a sticky note attached.

  You never got to see how it ended.

  The words scrawled in a painfully familiar script. I peeled the note off and gasped at the title.

  Fearless, by Alexander Prescott.

  The words Advance Reader Copy scrolled across the cover, with a note that this was an unedited, prepublication copy and likely to have errors. With my stomach doing backflips, I flipped through the first few pages. Tears sprang to my eyes at the dedication page.

  To EM. You fought the sun over who could give off more light. Your smile fed my own. I ‘saw you’ the moment you careened into my life, hiding your strength under a well of pain. I’m sorry for everything I said at the end. I hate myself more for it every day. Hope you’re still wearing sticky socks and scandalous PJs.

  I miss you.

  I wiggled my toes that were indeed encased in non-stick socks and ran a finger across the words. In the scheme of books dedicated to me, this one sounded much nicer than the first, but made no sense in the context of what happened between Alex and me.

  “He misses me?” I scoffed as I paced the living room. “Then maybe he shouldn’t have been such a jerky jerkface.”

  The book dropped to the coffee table and I couldn’t bring myself to touch it again.

  A month later, I finished my book, and put the house on the market. Much to everyone’s surprise, it sold within a week.

  And that was that. I no longer owned a home in Wildrose Landing. I didn’t go to the closing, so my realtor handed the keys to the new owner and a healthy deposit hit my account. It was time to go house hunting. Or apartment hunting. Or just bask in the fact that I’d taken the plunge and did what needed doing. I hadn’t run away or procrastinated. I’d done the hard thing and felt better for it.

  Izzy cried when I told her. “I guess I kept holding out hope you’d be back someday.”

  “You know you can always come visit me. Whenever I figure out where I want to live, that is.”

  “Between the sale of the house and YOUR FREAKING BOOK DEAL, you can afford to be choosy.”

  My heart fluttered at the thought. When I got up the courage to submit to agents, I had several falling over their feet to sign me, which was a shocker and totally unheard of for a newbie. A bidding war erupted, and the book sold for more money than I had imagined. It had to be Karma, swooping back around to do me a solid. After being taken advantage of by two different writers, the writing world was trudging around to lift me up.

  Izzy launched another round of congratulations my way and I almost asked her about Alex.

  Almost.

  The words were right there. Right on the tip of my tongue. How’s he doing?

  But it felt like a disservice to myself to ask. So I didn’t.

  I did, however, pick up his book after I finished the call. I turned it over in my hands, studying the cover. I ran my finger over his name. “Freaking Fearless,” I murmured. “Of course the title’s Fearless.”

  Somehow, I found myself reading the thing. I skimmed the first couple chapters. After all, I was fairly well acquainted with them. But then…

  …then…

  Some changes caught my eye and I started reading with more attention. Before I knew it, the apartment was dark, my eyes were blurry, my heart was thundering, and my entire world had been turned upside down.

  Yes, I was in those pages. Yes, I was meek and mild in the beginning.

  But th
e end…

  Oh my goodness…the end.

  Alex turned that character into a phoenix rising from the ashes of the tragedy. She was smart and quick and through so many passages I felt like he was speaking directly to me through the dialogue.

  This is how I see you, Evie. This. You’re a phoenix, strong and beautiful and I love you.

  On top of all that, scene forty-eight was nowhere to be seen. No mention of Stephen Drews stealing work from the woman who loved him. Alex had taken it out. Instead of humiliating me, he’d…elevated me.

  “I have to see him.”

  Amelia paused on her way into the living room. “See who?”

  I stood and brandished the book. “I have to see Alex.”

  She frowned. “We just got you over him…”

  “I’ll never get over him. Especially not after this.” I shoved the book into her hands like simply holding it would explain what was inside. “I don’t know why, but after reading that, I think he loved me, and if that’s true, then I have to see him. I have to talk to him.”

  Amelia flipped through the first couple pages. “Oh my goodness, he capitalized your initials in the dedication.” The goofy grin tugging at her lips said it all.

  I pulled out my phone and called Izzy. “Two calls in one day?” she said when she answered. “I feel like a superstar.”

  I hopped over small talk in favor of the point. “I didn’t ask about Alex the last time because…well, because. But I just read his new book. How is he?”

  “He’s…well, he’s not great, Evie. I thought I understood him, but I just don’t. He’s been wallowing like his heart is broken since you left, even though as the asshole in the situation, he has no right. He turned into a full-on hermit after the ‘for sale’ sign hit your yard and I haven’t seen him since it sold. He’s leaving for a book tour tomorrow, and I’m really hoping it’ll do him some good. Not that you should worry about him. Not at all. Not after what he did to you—”