Page 87 of Heart So Hollow

“You think he’s lying,” I murmur, giving him a weary look.

“I know you don’t want to believe it because it would be a lot more convenient if he turned out to be normal. But I know you, Brett, you avoid things that make you really uncomfortable or when you feel like you aren’t in control. And usually, that’s fine. But, this time, you need to pay attention because he’s not through with you yet.”

Man, you and Barrett both have me pegged, don’t you?

“OK,” I take a deep breath, “so, what do I do?”

“Stay away from him. Maybe don’t get chatty and give him a bunch of details about your life because I’m the one who’ll have to take care of it if he decides he didn’t get his fill last time.”

“Oh,” I perk up, “like waterboarding him?” I flash Bowen a smile, “Rip off some pinkies, perhaps?”

Bowen grins, probably for the first time since he’s been home, “You sound pretty excited about that.”

“I’ll get excited about that later. But I do actually need your help with something else,” I toss my hair away from my face, “because it’s finished.”

“What’s finished?”

“My book,” I murmur.

Bowen smiles so wide that his dimples pop, “Really?”

I nod with excitement, grateful to change the subject, “Which means I can start querying agents. Most of them want the first one or two chapters, and they have to be stellar, so…” I bite my bottom lip, “will you read them and tell me what you think?”

Bowen arches his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Yes. Because you’ll tell me the truth, but maybe you’ll be nicer about it than some burnt out agent who gets 500 of these a day and doesn’t like my paragraph structure.”

He shoots me a salacious grin, “I thought you didn’t like when I’m nice to you.”

“You can be mean to me back there,” I toss my head back to the dark hallway leading to the bedroom, “but I need you to be kind and professional up here, at least right now.”

“I got you, baby girl,” Bowen rocks forward and sits up, “I’ll handle your hopes and dreams with care. Where’s your laptop?”

I jump up to retrieve it from the kitchen table, handing it over the back of the sectional.

He leans back into the corner of the cushions and opens my laptop, “What’s your password?”

“Beeswax.” I say as I collapse onto the cushion at the end of his feet.

“Why’s your password beeswax?” he asks as he types.

I shoot him a side-eye, “Because it’s none of yours.”

Bowen looks up and stares at me for a moment, letting it sink in. When it finally clicks, he leans his head back against the cushion with a laugh, “God, you’re cute,” he shakes his head.

I should leave the room. I should go and do something mundane to keep me busy while Bowen reads the first two chapters of my book. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Maybe it’s because I’ve never let anyone else on the planet read my writing. So, I space out, letting my eyes wander over the bookshelves, from the titles that were already there on the first two shelves to mine on the third and fourth.

The Outsiders, The Sun Also Rises, Carrie…

Carrie…

I shake my head as a chill runs up my neck.

Stop…

“You know,” Bowen finally glances up from behind the screen, “I can’t stand these kinds of books, but this is really good.”

I look over his shoulder at the bookshelves, “What are you talking about?” I furrow my brow, “You have Gillian Flynn on your shelf!”

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