Page 54 of Turbulent Fires

“No, but I’m hopeful. I’ve laughed, gotten angry, and cried while writing different chapters. I’m certainly learning I can run through a whole gauntlet of emotions in a short time span.”

“That’s because you aren’t writing just any story, you’re writingyourstory!”

“Well, I guess I’m writingourstory,” I say with a laugh. I can’t really take it back now that it’s on paper. I could delete it all. But I don’t want to.

Chloe pulls a notebook from her purse and starts writing things down. I look at her in confusion as I wait for her to finish. She’s concentrating, so I get up and head inside to get two more drinks. We’ll eventually start walking, but I need more caffeine right now. When I get back and hand hers over, she’s beaming at me.

“What are you up to?” I ask. She laughs as she pushes the notebook in my direction. I shake my head and laugh as I read what she’s written:

Maid of Honor Duties

—Keep Audrey from fleeing her own wedding

—Vet all caterers for the ability to serve cheeseburgers

—Practice the “don’t cry too early in the ceremony” speech

—Hold the dress for bathroom breaks

—To be continued . . .

I look up and smile before laughing. “You’re impossible. Do you know that?”

“Of course I do, but I hear wedding bells in your future.”

“There are no wedding bells,” I insist.

“From what I just read, there are wedding bells in your near future,” she insists. “You’re in love with the man. Sure, you’re terrified, but you’ll eventually get over it, and shock of all shocks, you’re going to be okay.”

“Well, I’m not telling him,” I say, then take a sip of coffee. “Not unless he says it first.”

She bursts out laughing. “I love your stubbornness. I might have to start placing bets on who’s more stubborn. This could take a while. Even so, I’ll start planning the bachelorette party. It will be epic.”

“I’m not getting married,” I insist.

“Sweetie, you’re the one writing your own story. Just make sure you add that chapter.”

“I wish life were truly that simple.”

“It can be.”

I lean back and think about it. Can that be true? Can it be as simple as writing the end to my own story? I guess I’ll find out. Until then, at least I’m enjoying the journey.

Chapter Twenty

Wolf

Ace’s mansion in the hills of Washington looks like it’s been carved out of sheer ambition and sealed with determination. Floor-to-ceiling windows with epic views of the mountains and lake, along with a massive deck that can accommodate a thousand people, all surrounded by the scent of cedar, make it a perfect place to gather.

My brothers, the Armstrong men, and, of course, Joseph Anderson and Sherman are all here for a night of supposed relaxation. With this group of opinionated people, it’s probably going to be more like another therapy session.

Currently, the pool balls are clicking on the slate table. Drake sinks a solid with the smug grin of someone who grew up playing trick shots on family vacations instead of building sandcastles and hanging upside down from monkey bars.

“You look like you’ve been hit with a wrecking ball,” Nick tells me as he leans back and lazily swirls his drink, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I’ve seen this look on your face a few times,” Maverick adds with a chuckle and shake of his head. “If I’m being honest, it’s the same look I had before my fiancée punched me in the ribs and told me to get over myself.”

I look at both of them, confident that I’m not showing any of what I’m feeling. Sure, I’m a bit confused, but I’m not flailing or anything. “What are you guys talking about?”

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