Page 61 of Quiver

She shook out her hands, cold from their tight grip on the steering wheel, but she couldn’t shake the sting of Fletcher’s abrupt withdrawal. She wasn’t stupid or oblivious, and while she couldn’t deny Fletcher’s charge of her being a little self-centered, she wasn’t heartless. She’d seen the fear accompanying awareness in those dark eyes. She’d watched the walls go back up as if putting more barriers between them might somehow protect Fletcher from the earthquake of emotions cracking their foundations, but it still burned that the connection they’d shared for those explosive moments together did so little to soften Fletcher’s self-preservation instincts the way they had her own.

What they’d done together meant more to her than an exquisite release or a convenient physical outlet. In those moments, she’d seen her fully again and had allowed the same in return. Sure, they’d been rushed and raw, but they’d moved together with a grace and knowledge that couldn’t be undercut. Their bodies had allowed what their brains couldn’t, and they knew each other. If she had someone else to talk to about such things, she might’ve gone so far as to say she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such physically fulfilling sex, but here, alone with her memories, she had no one worth lying to. She knew exactly the last time anyone had touched her so thoroughly. It was the night before she’d met Mimi.

Mimi.

She gritted her teeth, not ready to do what needed to come next, but Fletcher hadn’t left her much option.

She sighed and picked up her phone, dialed, and let it ring twice before the familiar New York accent blared through the car.

“Kye, where are you?” Mimi jumped in without prologue.

“Still in Vermont.”

“Did you hear from Sophia LeBlanc?”

“No, but it’s time to take the ball back into our court.”

“Meaning?”

“There’s a mounted archery competition and demonstration the last week in February at the place I’ve been training. It’s small and indoors, and the weather might be a problem for travel. Not ideal, but better than sitting around waiting, I suppose.”

“You’re not selling this,” Mimi said. “Sounds half-hearted. You have to do better.”

“I know.” She rubbed her face, not wanting to evaluate her own waning motivation. Fletcher had made it abundantly clear she had no reason to drag things out, so unless she wanted someone else in the driver’s seat of her career, she didn’t have much choice other than to grab this bull by the horns, or perhaps the horse by the reins. “There’s not a lot of things we can control, but this is one of them. Make the invitation. Call Talia Stamos first. She was more open last time we talked.”

“Good idea. Talia’s one for second chances, and she lives up that way, Upstate New York, a little place in the mountains. How far is that from Vermont? I have no idea.”

“The Catskills? They’re closer to me than to the city, probably, but what do you mean she lives there? Don’t all screenwriters live in LA or New York?”

Mimi grunted disapprovingly. “It would make my life easier, but no. She thinks of herself as a novelist more than a screenwriter. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do. Even if it’s out in the middle of nowhere, it might not be the worst idea ever. At least we can keep things quiet.”

Kylie’s pulse pounded at the base of her skull, along with the realization one more person in her life was trying to limit the damage from her rash decisions. “I won’t blow this.”

“I want to believe you, babe. I know I came down hard on you during our last chat, but I’m worried. I want to see you succeed—”

“Then help. Set this up. Sell it however you need to.”

“I’ll make the call, but you need to tell me honestly if I actually have something worth selling. If I drag people all the way up there, you’ll have to make it worth the trip. Are you ready?”

“I will be.”

“I swear, Kye. This is your last chance to back out or back down, and there’s no shame in telling me if you made a colossal mistake.” She paused. “I was actually thinking a few days ago,” Mimi continued, her voice a little softer, “we could tell them you fell off a horse or got another offer or, I don’t know, went to rehab. People respect rehab.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mimi.” Kylie clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. If one more person lectured her about mistakes, she was going to scream. “I don’t need an excuse, and I don’t need rehab, and I’m sick to death of running away. This one’s on me. Get them here, or get a film crew, or set up something else, but if you make this happen, I’ll face it head on.”

“Okay,” Mimi said as a beep sounded in the background. “I’m giving you all the rope you’re asking for. Turn it into a lasso or use it to tie an anchor around your career, just don’t make a noose with it. It’s up to you, as long as you swear you’re ready to face whatever comes next.”

“I’m ready, or at least I will be.” She refused to add yet another qualifier that she could promise to be up to snuff only on archery and made no such vows about her readiness to face the emotional upheaval surrounding any of this.

“I gotta admit, I like the attitude.” A hint of admiration seeped back into Mimi’s voice. “Text me the details, and I’ll do what I can. Don’t muck it up.”

“I won’t,” she said seriously, then disconnected the phone and tried not to let the fear creep in that she’d already complicated the situation beyond what anyone else could comprehend.

Chapter Fourteen

“Wow,” Bex said, close enough to nearly startle Fletcher right out of her skin.

She’d been so absorbed in watching Kylie ride, she’d completely lost track of everything else around her, and it wasn’t the first time, either, though it was certainly the only example of anyone else being around to bear witness to her lapse.