Page 102 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

SUBJECT: This means war…

Hitting on me after spilling coffee all over my shirt was one thing…but taking the seat at the front of class that you SAW me going for??? Unforgivable. We will not be friends and I wanted to make sure you know it.

FROM: Jack Bennett

TO: Emily Walker

DATE: Thu, August 18 9:45 AM

SUBJECT: This means war…

We’ll see about that. I’m very good at winning people over. It’s all in the long game.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jack

I’ve spent most of the day on the phone with Jonathan and Denis, coming up with an official announcement and rebuttal to my dad’s video. I sent them a brief email yesterday after Emily and I talked everything through and basically said:I’ve seen it, and I give you permission to go forth with epic plans to reveal the way it should have been done in the first place.Denis is like a kid in a candy shop. He’s been training his whole life for this moment.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when on our call earlier he informed me that I’d be flying out tomorrow for aGMAinterview, have several other interviews throughout the day, and then finish up atThe Late Show with Stephen Colbert.Apparently people were more excited to interview me than I imagined. I guess I’ve been able to compartmentalize my success before with the pseudonym. It was never mine. It was always Ranger’s. But now, overnight…it’s mine.

Emily keeps telling me to absorb it. To let my heart have it. But it’s difficult and going to take some getting used to.

“I never asked you…” she says from the driver’s seat of my SUV as we cruise down Main Street. She’ll always love her truck,but she said she wanted to give my snooty Land Rover a try today. I think she likes it, judging by how she keeps running her hand over the leather console. “Are you going to keep teaching? Now that the news is out?” She says it so upbeat and easygoing—but God, do I know this woman. I hear the slight constriction in her vocal cords. The tightness around her eyes as she smiles. She wants me to feel zero pressure from her while making this decision—but clearly she has strong feelings about it.

Lucky for her, I don’t have to keep her waiting on the answer. I’ve already turned this question over in my head a hundred different times and every way I consider it, the answer is the same. “I’m going to keep teaching.”

Her lips let out a nearly undetectable sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Some things are going to change for me. Like having to get used to doing interviews and book tours. But not that. I love teaching—and I feel lucky to be at a school that makes it easy to love. I’m not ready to give that up yet. Also without me the teachers would have to drink your shit coffee every day and I can’t do that to them.” She smacks the back of her hand playfully against my chest. “Besides, I think I’m one of those authors who need a day job. If all I did was focus on my writing, I’m pretty sure my creativity would shrivel up and die.”

She laughs. “Me too.” And then she seems to stop herself. “I mean…I’m in no way comparing myself to you. You’re miles ahead of me, and I can barely call myself an author. I just meant—”

I lay my hand on her thigh and squeeze. “Don’t backtrack. I love hearing you refer to yourself as an author. Because you are. One book or twenty—it doesn’t matter. You put words on paper and created a world that readers are not going to realize they even needed until after they read it and it fills something up in them. Always own that.”

“Actually, all of this has had me thinking…if I ever get this book deal—”

“Pen name or real name? The age-old question.”

The wind tosses her hair because she may have traded her old truck for my SUV today, but she’s still got the window down, refusing to use the AC. “I’m leaning toward a pen name since I’m going to be writing explicit content and still teaching second grade. But…I don’t think I want to be completely hidden like you were.”

“Somewhere in the middle? You can absolutely do that. Parents still might recognize you or find you on socials…but that wouldn’t be the worst.”

“Wait,” she says, glancing briefly at me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you came up with your pen name. Why Ranger?”

“Oh.” I was hoping she wouldn’t ask. “Well, the AJ part is just my first and middle name swapped. Jackson Alexander. And Ranger…” I grimace, knowing she’s going to eat this up. “Ranger was actually the name of the stuffed bear I slept with as a kid. He was the first comforting thing in my life, and so it felt right to give that name to the next comfort too. My books.”

She presses her hand dramatically to her heart like she’s just been stabbed. “That is so sweet it physically hurts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, swatting her hand playfully away from her chest. “Back to you. Do you have a pen name in mind yet?”

“No.” She grins and looks at me from the side of her eye. “But you know what this means? I might eventually have to tell Bart about my book…after all we went through to keep it from him.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I pick up her hand and kiss her knuckles. “It let me sneak into your heart when you weren’t expecting it. Plus, I’ll never regret buying you more time to reveal your book on your own terms when you want.”

Her smile is sad when she looks at me. “Jack…”

“No, no. Don’t give me that face. I’m good today. I’m feeling confident about my next steps.”

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