“But facts are facts,” Tom begins with authority, “Jack’s writing block is over… and it’s because of Rowan.”
The table falls silent, staring at me while I groan.
“I don’t understand,” Mom says. “What does Rowan have to do with Jack’s writing?”
“Jack hasn’t written a word in over a year,” Vernon says.
Mom gasps, hand to heart. “Why not?”
“Let me explain,” Vernon says with authority. “Jack had an older brother, Devin. They were more like twins, less than a year apart and inseparable. Best friends with Ben and Margot’s son, Corey, next door. The three amigos. But in their teens, Devin was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia.” He shakes his head. “He fought like hell.”
“They all did,” Rose continues. “But the treatments were a vicious cycle. Jack lived on high alert, waiting for positive change that never came, watching his brother get sicker and sicker, and helpless to stop it.”
“Devin died on a rainy Wednesday in spring,” Vernon says. “It would’ve been the boys’ last baseball season together.”
“That’s when he met Evie,” Rose groans. “It was the perfect storm—a grieving boy getting a lot of attention for his dead brother meets an attention-seeking girl who suddenly wants to help him through it. Evie became a fixture in Jack’s life. Quite a pretty girl.”
Vernon’s eyes widen. “A stunner. Still is.”
“She dumped him when they were in college,” Rose says before adding in air quotes, “so she could focus on her studies.”
I shrug lightly. “Everyone has tough breakups.”
“True, dear. I’m sure you have a few stories to tell… we’ll get them out of you eventually.” Rose giggles like it’s a game.
“But it didn’t end there,” Vernon says.
“They still hook up,” Rose explains. “Friends with benefits, I suppose, but there’s a downside. Evie may have inspired his stories, but she’s not good for him. Being with her reminds him of what he’s lost. Jack’s always in a right state afterward.”
“Another vicious cycle,” I breathe out, “like with his brother.”
“Precisely,” Vernon says.
“Jack finishedThe Other Usover a year ago,” Rose continues. “Then, Corey’s dad, Ben, died in Jack’s arms—heart attack in the driveway—and when he reached out to Evie for comfort, she refused like he was asking too much.”
“And she told him she’d found someone else, someone serious,” Vernon adds.
Rose nods, pursing her lips. “He’s had writer’s block ever since. I think—”
“We.We think,” Vernon clarifies.
“Yes, we think. Sorry, love.Wethink his sadness has caught up with him.”
“It’s likehiscancer!” Vernon decides vehemently.
“Right, dear. All his partying, grumpiness, and empty relationships—it’s just sadness disguised. He needs someone who makes him feel hopeful again. He must purge his old muse and find a new one.”
Vernon leans up in his seat, squaring his shoulders. “That’s you, Rowan.”
“Nope! Not it! Jack doesn’t need a muse. It’s a sexist and demeaning concept—that women are meant to be mystical beings, puppeteering a man’s creativity… and that a man’s incapable of creating without one. Jack Graham is a successful, well-loved writer. An amazing writer. Evie didn’t do that for him;hedid. He doesn’t need a mystical force guiding his hand. He needs a better mindset and understanding of his abilities. A good therapist will help him better than I ever could. And speaking mythologically, Evie’s not a muse, more like a siren toying with him. A good therapist will help him through that, too.”
Their dumbfounded, wide-eyed expressions—not at me but at the air around me—make me slump. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
Rose giggles.
Twelve
Jack