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She couldn’t. It was too embarrassing.
“Indy, come on.”
Why was he even here? He’d only come because she couldn’t handle one simple interaction.
“What am I even doing?” She was a fraud. “Everything I’ve ever written is a lie. Might as well be science fiction.”
Ethan rounded her, then stood in her way. “Stop. Breathe.”
Standing still wouldn’t help. “I— can’t— I—”
“You can, come on.” He put a gentle hand on her elbow.
“No, you don’t get it. This is how I’ve made my living.”
“Focus on me,” he said.
But she was on a roll and couldn’t be distracted. Not even the vast expanse of his shoulders was going to work this time.
Indy was slowly realizing that she might not have aOne. That the growing, twisting ache that nestled between her ribs might be permanent, never to be satiated. Suddenly, the future sketched itself out in her mind. Half-hearted relationships full of one-sided feelings, of holding herself back, of never feelingit. The great love of her life. The most she’d get is contentment.
“Did I ever tell you that the publisher almost dropped me after the second book?” She turned back to the shelf, fixed her attention on her name on the spine in front of her.
“No.”
Indy nodded to herself. It was easier like this, facing her books instead of him. “The initial sales didn’t come close to covering the advance, and they stayed that way for the first six months. Reviews were all over the board. Some readers had a problem with how headstrong Riley was.” She closed her eyes as Ethan stroked her back, the touch soft, warm. “I didn’t even mind. I was so focused on the plot and the adventure that I let Riley’s character arc down, so I agreed when readers said they were disappointed.”
“Indy—”
She was still staring at her name, at the white block lettering. What would happen to these copies? Would they throw them out? Mark them down and rid themselves of them as quickly as possible?
“I considered quitting. But then a reader with a large following loved it and begged me for info on the third. Not only did her enthusiasm remind me of why I had fallen in love with the idea in the first place, but her posts almost single-handedly kick-started sales again, which led to the book reaching the bestseller list. Without her, I would have flopped.”
Indy finally pulled back. Finally peeked up at Ethan and his slight frown and his concerned eyes. “The thing is, I do believe in myself. I know it’s hard to tell sometimes because the insecurity takes the wheel, but I know what I’m capable of. And I know I’m good at it. I made this happen.” She ran a finger over the spines of her books, the sight of her name on the shelf still a thrill after four years. “Me. I did it, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. I don’t want to change who I am, but I… question myself sometimes.”
When she’d started the series, she hadn’t realized how personal it would become. How much of herself would end up in Riley. How much it would hurt when that piece of herself stumbled. As if the whole world was looking at her, sayingwe don’t like you.
Ethan’s voice was soft as he tugged her to his chest and banded his arms around her. “You weren’t created to be packed away or muted. Don’t ever think you have to hide yourself from me.”
It wasn’t even worth trying. He always saw through her.
“You were right,” she said, clutching the back of his shirt. Fate wasn’t hope. It was a crutch. One she’d leaned on for far too long. “I’ve been a fool, chasing after a man I barely even know, pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Once again, fear trickled downhill, from the back of her mind into her chest, bringing with it an aching dread. But it was much, much worse now. Because losing Ethan meant no more good-morning texts, no more teasing him over his love for the Lions, no more adorable stories from his class. Summer would be gone, along with any chance of seeing Ethan climb, of discovering whether his hair was messier when he woke up or after a bike ride. She’d never get to see the sunset with him or find out if syrup tasted sweeter from his lips.
“Slow down, breathe.” Ethan brought a hand to the back of her head, pulled her impossibly close. It was a cocoon of warm cotton and faint window cleaner. He’d been at his whiteboard again. “There you go.”
Indy pulled in a long breath, then another, and focused on Ethan, the slow stroke of his hand along her spine, his deep breathing encouraging her to match.
“I should have been chasing you,” she whispered into his chest.
“Answer me something. Who is the queen of America?”
What? Was confusing her supposed to help? “There’s no queen of America.”
“Wrong,” he said, soft. “The answer is Beyoncé, but I also would have accepted Dolly.”
God, he was ridiculous. And caring. And beautiful.
