Page 95 of Reckless

As we drive towards the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest in Wisconsin, I decide I need to talk to someone about this. My first thought is Drew because she’s met Jude, seen us together and would understand better, but she isn’t in the country right now, I don’t want to disturb her when she’s working.

My sister is a huge Reckless Soul fan, she wouldn’t be able to look at the situation objectively. Mom is a good listener, but she’ll tell me to follow my heart and I don’t need that kind of logic.

I need a reality check.

Jude is okay about it when I tell him I have a meeting with my assistant about the convention, saying he can go up on the roof. I tell him it’s going to take a while and I’m going to a coffee shop so he can focus on writing or catching up with his friends. My heart hurts for lying to him, but I need this time to think. And I won’t be able to do that if he’s close-by.

I keep thinking about what I overheard his friend Solene say on the phone the other day. It’s obvious Jude doesn’t want to talk about it, and I get it. If what I suspect is right, then it sounds like it could be a problem for the band. I’m really not sure how else to interpret ‘what kind of man wants to be saddled with someone else’s kid’ or ‘I’m not getting rid of it’. She’s his best friend and she’s going through something serious.

It's further ramped up my worries about where this is going and that it can end suddenly. I need to know how I feel about that, and I can’t do it while I’m with him.

We find a small town to stop off at and Riggs drives me into the town center. Jude wants Riggs to stay with me, but I remind him no one knows who I am, and I don’t need any protection. I also don’t want to feel like I’m being spied on, even though Riggs and Luther have kept their distance.

Nothing came of the sighting in Minneapolis. Whatever Luther and Riggs did those two guys never spread it around, or if they did, it didn’t get any traction. We were long gone by the time anyone would have got wind of it.

I find a cute and cozy coffee shop and get a table at the back, order myself some apple and cinnamon pie and a cappuccino. I’ve already texted Brianna so she is expecting the call. I pop my headphones in, and video call her through the laptop.

Brianna Brayshaw is a fellow author and has been a good friend for about six years now. She’s non-judgmental, straight talking and will never steer me wrong. I can rely on her to be brutal but in the nicest possible way. She is from Canada after all.

She’s eleven years older than me, divorced twice and has two teenage sons who are even more polite than she is. They’re both amateur hockey players and will eventually be heading to university on sports scholarships. She’s only five foot two, they both tower over her, even the fourteen-year-old, but they would break the world to protect their mom. I love that for her.

“Hey bestie!” she yells excitedly. “How are you?”

I can’t help but laugh. She’s wearing a red and white striped t-shirt and black dungarees. She must have recently had a trim because her blond pixie cut is close cropped to her head. It suits her angular features and pale blue eyes.

“Good, I see you’re as manic as ever.”

“Deadlines. But don’t worry, I have a couple more weeks. I’m just behind because I started watching The Boys. Have you seen that show? It’s so gross, I love it. In the first maybe ten seconds a girl literally explodes into red mist.”

“You enjoy gore way too much.”

“I wouldn’t be a good horror writer if I didn’t,” she makes a cute face, her shoulders rising and falling. She’s adorable. Most people find it hard to believe she is the author of the gruesome horror books she writes.

We catch up on the show, which I haven’t seen but feel like I have by the time she’s finished, and other things we’ve been doing. She’s been a good writing buddy and critique partner for years. Bouncing ideas off one another and stopping each other from losing our minds when writers block hits or deadlines are getting too close. I’m surprised she hasn’t been in touch before now with a deadline looming.

“Are you all ready for the convention?” she asks.

“I think so. Well, Emily has done most of the heavy lifting. I probably should have arranged to go back early to help.”

“She’s so good at what she does,” Brianna tells me. We all hang out together at book conventions, so she knows Emily well. “And if she needed you, she’d tell you. Em knows you go off on this annual road trip or you’ll lose your senses.”

“I’m not that bad, and yes, I know, she’s a god send.”

“Okay. To what do I owe the pleasure? What’s on your mind?”

“I hate you think I’m only calling because I need something.”

“Girl, that’s what I’m here for. You’d do the same for me. Is that pie?” She peers through the screen.

“Apple and cinnamon.”

“Where is the ice cream?”

“I didn’t ask for any but I think I will once we’re done… Anyway, I don’t want to keep you too long with your deadline.”

“Yes, yes I’m ready.”

I take a deep breath. “I was at a stopover in Montana and this guy showed up.”

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