Page 217 of His Reckoning

“So,” she says, glancing down at her notes, “you’re requesting a private event … but open to the public?”

“Correct.”

“And you want it announced as a reading?”

“Yes.”

“Author appearance?”

“No.”

That gets a reaction.

Her brow lifts slightly. “You’re not the author?”

“No.”

She hesitates. “And the author won’t be present?”

“Not at the start.”

Something about my tone must tell her not to push further because she nods slowly. “All right.”

She flips a page on the clipboard. “We can promote it as a surprise reading. That usually draws a decent crowd, especially with a new release.”

“Good.”

I glance toward the stage again and picture it filled with people listening. Hearing the words the way I did. Understanding them the way I didn’t—at first.

My jaw tightens slightly.

“I’ll need copies available for purchase,” I add.

Andrea nods. “We can arrange that if the publisher delivers in time.”

“They will.”

She studies me for a second, then smiles again—more certain this time.

“Then we’re all set.”

* * *

By the time I get back to my apartment, the place still feels wrong. I loosen my tie and toss it onto the counter, heading straight for the living room.

The book is still where I left it. I pick it up without thinking and drop onto the couch because now I need to find it.

The part that says everything I didn’t say. Everything I got wrong that she tried to show me before I shut it down.

I flip through the pages slowly this time, letting it land.

Scene after scene unfolds. The hero trying to control everything around him because it’s the only way he knows how to exist.

My chest tightens because I don’t need to translate that anymore. I get it now.

I keep flipping, looking for something that feels right.

Not just the story, but her voice, her perspective. The way she saw him … saw me.