The effortless words that come easily when the story is so important, when the topic is something I feel so intensely on a personal level. They always lead to my best work, to the stories that truly touch people and make a difference in their lives.
And this is definitely that.
In all the years I’ve been writing, nothing—not a single story topic—has ever meant more or been more vital to not only my career but my very existence.
This is the kind of story that changes lives—not just mine.
This is so much bigger than the mountain.
And the end is in sight.
Months of thinking about it. Researching. Diving into the darkest parts of the internet to search for information. Making phone calls to people who didn’t want to talk and convincing them to put their lives on the line to do the right thing. Putting myself in places I absolutely shouldn’t have been…
It’s all finally coming together.
Pieces of a puzzle that have rattled around in my head are starting to click into place. The big picture is right there, and once everyone sees it, it will change the lives of so many people.
All I need is a little time to complete the final bits of my research, to actually finish writing the biggest story of my life, to polish it to perfection, and then, the shit will hit the fan…
And I can’t fucking wait.
I let the music blaring through my headphones lull me into that headspace I need to be I when I write—completely focused. Everything around me is completely shut out. Only the words and my fingers on the keyboard exist.
Even tucked into my corner of the bakery at my usual table, with customers flitting in and out constantly and Claire bustling around me, clearing tables and refilling my coffee without me having to ask for it, nothing can distract me from this story.
The morning ticks away without me even realizing it.
Seconds turn into minutes.
Minutes to hours.
I’m lost to my work…
Until a broad, dark shadow falls across my table and a meaty hand slams my laptop closed and almost amputates my fingers.
“Hey! What the hell?”
I jerk my head up toward the asshole who interrupted me and freeze.
Shit.
He’s back…
Connor looms over me, his bearded jaw clenched, a muscle there ticcing as he flexes those huge hands at his sides into fists and opens them again. Steam practically pours out of his ears, and the burning rage in his dark eyes sears my skin in a way that makes heat instantly rise through my body.
I slowly reach up and pull off my headphones, letting them slide down to hang from my neck as I cross my arms over my chest and raise a brow at him. “What the fuck was that for?”
His lips curl into his trademark sneer as he leans down and places his palms on the table directly next to my computer, hovering over me like the dark storm cloud he has always been in my life. “Trying to save someone else from becoming the topic of your scathing gossip.”
Shit.
“So, you heard about the article…”
A low growl slips from Connor’s mouth, and he leans closer, until I can smell something warm and spicy emanating off him as thickly as his anger. He smells woodsy, like the forest where he spends his time, combined with the bourbon he’s always drinking, and I should hate it. Should. “I heard you did exactly what I knew you would—turn me into a fucking story.”
I wince at the intensity of the rage in his words.
Of course, that’s how he would see it.
