Page 105 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
“Hmph.” My mother shoves another piece of muffin in her mouth.
Natalie reaches for my hand, entwines her fingers with mine.
“Thanks for the offer, Mac.” I square my shoulders. “But I think you’re going to need to find another place to invest.” I pause for a beat, shifting my jaw. It’s springy as a mousetrap. Man. I’m so tired of being tense. “I’ll be happy to give some advice about where to put it. But I’m not going to take your money.”
“I respect that.” Mac nods, like he’s not surprised. But the arch to his eyebrow says he’s curious.
“Mom.” I flick my gaze to my father. “Dad.” I look at Doc Swanson last. He’s probably the easiest and the hardest one in the room for me to face right now. “I have something to tell you all too.” I take a beat, digging around in my chest. I expect to feel a heaviness there. Even some dread. But instead, I feel a loosening. This is a weight that needs to be lifted. I should’ve gotten this out a long time ago. “Idon’twanttobeavet,” I say in a rush. A wave of relief floods through me. I’ve finally spoken the words. But then I glance around the table.
“Huh?” my dad asks.
“Wuff?” my mother chokes.
Doc Swanson pushes his glasses up his nose. “What did you say, son?”
Great. They didn’t understand me. And now I’ve got to say it again. So I draw in a long breath and repeat myself. Slow and steady this time. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. A. Vet.”
“ACK!” My mother drops the rest of her muffin on the floor.
“Easy, Elaine.” My dad tosses another one at her.
“Brady.” Doc Swanson’s eyes are wide and kind. “I had no idea.”
“That’s because I never told you,” I say. “You were all so supportive from the beginning, I felt like I couldn’t be honest. Mom, I think you always liked the idea more than I did. But sometimes we end up wanting something completely different.” Another squeeze of my hand from Natalie. She always knows what I need. And when.
My dad’s got his head cocked, studying my face. “So if you don’t want to go to vet school anymore, whatdoyou want?”
“Actually, Dad, I want to write. Not as a hobby. But as a career.”This is it.My pulse picks up, racing now. “In fact, I already have been writing. A whole lot. For a while now. In all my spare time.”
My dad cocks his head. “What do you mean, you’ve been writing?” His forehead collapses into wrinkles. “Newspaper articles? Recipes? Obituaries?”
“Books.” I glance at my mom, who’s looking a little lost without a muffin in her face. Of course this is hard for my parents to understand. I’ve never been fully honest with them before. But no more beating around the bush. It’s not fair to them or to me.
“I know this is a lot to take in. But for the past two years, I’ve practiced outlining, plotting, setting a scene. Creating dialogue. I’ve drafted more than one book along the way. I’ve got a whole series, actually.”
“Hoo, boy.” My father huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “How in the world did you even learn to do that?”
“I took online classes. Read a ton of craft books. I’ve listened to more podcasts than I can count. I worked at it, Dad. Hard.”
My mom puts a hand to her throat like she’s strangling herself. Yeah, I figured she’d be disappointed. But it’s too late now. I’m all in. I turn to Dr. Swanson next. “I always thought you were counting on me to take over for you. And I wasn’t gonna let you down, sir. But now that the clinic is closing, I think…” I cut myself off. “No, Iknow.I want to take the money I’ve saved for vet school and fund my publishing expenses.”
“Ahhh.” My mother drops her arms. “Kind of like… being… an author?”
“Yes, Mom. Exactly like being an author.”
My dad snorts and wheezes and guffaws all at once. It’s a soup of disbelief. “You’re telling me my son wants to be the next Dan Brown?”
“Oh, no, dear.” My mother waves his comment away like she’s got a better idea. “How about the next James Patterson?”
“I don’t think so.” I drag a hand across the back of my neck, feeling the truth of it. “I want to be the first B. R. Graham. And for the record, he writes mysteries.”
“Mysteries. Hmmm.” My mother blows out a breath, and a speck of muffin sticks to her chin. “Can I ask you something?” I open my mouth to answer, but she’s already moved on to her question. “How come you never said anything to us?”
A smile tugs the edge of my lips. “Probably because of the look on your face right now.”
“What look?” She squawks. “This is just my face!”
“Admit it.” I frown. “You’re disappointed. And I never wanted that.”
