Page 4 of One More Heartbeat
“Will. Iwillfinish it by then.” Who needs sleep anyway?
“That’s what I needed to hear. It’s a good thing you’re a free agent. Because your partner and kids wouldn’t get to see you for the next four or so months.”
“Yep, no worries about that here.”
“I’ll let you go now, Garrett. And I’ll send you the contracts this afternoon.” Maxwell ends the call.
“What’s going on?” Cautious curiosity hangs on Kellan’s question. He’s not one for prying, but even he can’t ignore my reaction to Maxwell’s news.
“My subagent sold the movie rights to the book I’m currently writing.” I give him the short version of what Maxwell just told me. Of my three brothers, Kellan is the reserved one. The brother who usually keeps his emotions locked away. But even he can’t keep his excitement at the news off his face—in the subtle rise of his eyebrows.
Or at least it’s there until I tell him the catch…that my deadline has been moved forward.
“How long do you have to write it?” Kellan continues stretching.
“Three months and three weeks.”
“You think you can finish it?”
“I can do it. I think. It’s not ideal, what with the release ofUnfallen. I’ll be ramping up my presence on social media over the next four and a half months as I build up buzz for the book.”
“You’re gonna be busy.”
“It will be tough to get the book done in time but not impossible. Most of my interviews and public appearances have been scheduled for late August and early September, afterUntold Mercyis now due to my editor.”
I yank off my hoodie, toss it onto the front passenger seat of the Explorer, and nod at Kellan to indicate I’m ready. I’ll have to stretch later due to lack of time now.
We run along the dirt trail that meanders through the meadow and disappears into the trees. The temperature is perfect for running, the sun peeking from behind the clouds and the cool spring breeze. I barely notice it with the shock of Maxwell’s news sinking in.
This soon changes as the rugged terrain becomes tougher, requiring my full attention if I don’t want to trip on a stone or exposed root. The route is one of Kellan’s favorites, because it deters us from talking while we run.
And talking is something he prefers to avoid if possible.
By the time we have finished, Kellan and I are breathing hard and our T-shirts are sticking to our sweat-drenched bodies. We each disappear into separate cabins and have a quick shower. I emerge soon after, wearing clean sweatpants and a dark-green Henley, my hair damp.
The clouds grew steadily heavier with rain during our run. The first drops begin to fall as we drive to my house. We have Wilderness Warriors business regarding the upcoming season the two of us want to discuss before Kellan is due back at his office.
Now that I’m not navigating the challenging trail, the excitement andshock at Maxwell’s news return, as well as a heavy dose of anxiety at having to finish the manuscript in such a short time.
Holy shit. I still can’t believe it.
I pull into my driveway, the rain coming down harder now. A garden of trees, bushes, and flower beds creates a private oasis between my sprawling single-story house and my neighbors’. And that’s even before the spring leaves are fully out.
I reach up to press the garage door opener on my visor, but movement on the front stoop catches my attention. A woman who looks to be in her late twenties is sitting on the top step with a toddler on her lap.
What the heck? Who are they?
There’s no other vehicle in the driveway, nor is there any parked near my house on the street. I don’t recognize them, and I’m not expecting anyone.
They’re lucky where they’re sitting is sheltered from the rain. Otherwise, they might have been drenched, depending on how long they’ve been there. Neither of them has on a jacket—and…are they reading a book?
Damn, they must be cold. The temperature has dropped over the past few minutes. It’s about fifty degrees.
I park near the garage door, kill the engine, and slide out of the driver’s seat. Kellan stops behind me. I have no idea if he’s seen the two individuals, who are no longer visible from where I’m standing.
I walk around the corner to the path leading to my front door. Neither the woman nor the toddler looks up. Their attention is still on the book. The woman’s skin is pale, and her long strawberry-blond hair is tied back in a ponytail. The toddler’s dark hair is pulled up in some sort of bun on top of her head, and her skin is a shade lighter than Zara’s golden-copper coloring. Wearing only jeans and T-shirts, they aren’t dressed for being out in the rain.
“Hi? Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, raindrops soaking through my Henley.
