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Before leaving Long Island, all I wanted to do was stand in a corner with my back to the wall and snap and snarl at everyone.
Some days, I still did.
Like the day I met Rett at the diner.
My attention was pulled back to the man still talking. “As you know, with the popularity of e-books bookstores have closed left and right. And still are. E-books are easier and cheaper to obtain. Another benefit is you can carry around thousands of books in one device. So, if I didn’t have my author gig, this bookstore wouldn’t make it. Owning it is more of a guilty pleasure that also doubles as my office. Being located in this small town means the store isn’t busy and since I’m rarely interrupted, it gives me plenty of time to write. Even better, I get to live upstairs with my dog as my constant companion.” He waved a hand around at the full bookshelves. “I’m surrounded by something I love to do. Both reading and writing. For that, I don’t need an agent, a big publisher or to be some big-time author. I’m content as things are now. Unlike you.”
Unlike you.
Those two simple words were cutting, even though his tone had remained level and he hadn’t sounded the slightest bit angry during his whole speech.
Once again he was annoyingly right. But I wasn’t going to admit to him that I was far from content and wasn’t sure if I’d ever be again.
Basically, I stood alone in the center of a seesaw, trying to balance it. If I leaned too far one way or the other, I’d take a hard fall.
Moving to Eagle’s Landing was supposed to help me find balance again in my life. It had been missing since the day I found Thomas dead. The second after that very discovery, everything in my life had come crashing down around me, as well as turning it upside down and inside out. That tragic moment had become my very own ground zero.
Before then, Thomas had been sitting on one side of that seesaw and I sat on the other. The two of us had balanced each other out. Whenever he was sinking, I worked on raising him until we were once again even.
We were a team and I thought we’d been content.
The same as Rett said he was. The man was living his life simply and he was happy. He had a business he loved, even if it couldn’t survive on its own. He had a writing career apparently successful enough to pay the bills and, of course, a loyal dog.
What I noticed he didn’t have was someone to sit opposite of him on his life’s seesaw. He was balancing in the middle all by himself. The same as I was now doing. However, he seemed way more successful at it.
My seesaw kept tipping from one side to the other and every time it did I overcompensated to correct it. At this point, I needed to either straighten it out or jump off completely. Because I was so damn tired of fighting to keep it level.
“All right, well…” It was time for me to leave. I had been here too long as it was. Especially since I was starting to actually like the man standing only feet from me.
I respected him for who he was, his passion, and how he lived his life with what seemed like no regrets or complaints.
While I was drowning in regrets.
“The truth can be uncomfortable, can’t it?”
Now he was being the asshole. Yes, I might deserve it but I didn’t have to stand there and take it. However, I had come here tonight to meet Everett J. Williams. It just so happened that Rett was the man I came to see.
I needed to thank him for sharing his words with the world, and more specifically with me. Unfortunately, those words struggled to come out of my mouth. Mostly because of the paralyzing fear that he’d want to know why his books were so important to me.
Instead I said, “Thanks for bringing me the next Dexter Peabody books. Indie or traditional, it doesn’t matter, just keep writing them. When I’m caught up I’ll be back for the rest of the series.”
He nodded and I turned to leave, hoping that as soon as I stepped outside, the pressure building in my chest would be somewhat relieved.
The walls around me—the store’s, not mine—seemed to be closing in and creating a box around the two of us.
A box I couldn’t remain inside. Not now. Not ever.
His next question stopped me dead in my tracks. “By the way, how’s your writing going?” Proof this man was a lot more observant than I was. I was afraid he could see straight through me to the turmoil inside along with everything else I kept hidden away.
