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“Knox, what are you doing here?”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course I’m okay.” She blinked again, glanced at the driveway, then tilted her head back up at me. “What… Did Cash contact you?”
“He said you were upset.”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “I love that man to pieces, but he’s ridiculous. I told him I’d be fine.”
“He’s worried about you,” I said, wondering when I’d started defending my unfriendly brother.
“Come in out of the cold.” She stood back so I could enter. A lamp shone on a low setting from the living room on the left, the only illumination on the main floor. “I can’t believe… Did he really call you?”
“He texted. Said you were upset about writing, threatening to quit—”
“I’m not going to quit.” She frowned. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to. I was just ranting. You know how it is.”
“Sure.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “So you’re not upset anymore?”
“I didn’t say that. But I don’t need an intervention. Would you like a drink?” She gestured to the kitchen on the right, open to the dining and living areas. I followed her over.
“What do you have?”
“Beer, soda, tea, water.”
“Got any Rusty Anchor?”
She walked around the island, opened the fridge, and took out an IPA. I was touched she knew my preference without asking. I’d never had that kind of closeness with people in Texas.
Grabbing a tea for herself, she leaned on the island. I took a seat on the opposite side.
“What’s going on?” I asked her as I opened the bottle. When she didn’t say anything, I said, “Talk to me, Ava.”
She spun her tea around in circles, her eyes locked on it, avoiding me.
“This is me,” I said in a coaxing voice.
Still not looking at me, she let out a breath. “I sent some of my chapters to a writing coach,” she finally spit out. “It’s someone I knew from school.”
“You don’t need a writing coach.”
She scoffed. “I definitely need a writing coach.”
“Ava, the screen play you wrote is a TV series.”
“I can write a screen play, but I’m so used to being brief and paring down details that I can’t write a novel.”
“Untrue. You’re writing one.”
“Not well.”
“Says who? The writing coach?”
“And me. You know I’ve been working hard to get the right amount of description in, to add introspection.”
“You have. You’ve gotten a lot better at it in just a month.”
“Yeah, well, the writing coach thinks I overdid it.”
