“How’s it going?”Whitneyasked.
“It’s fine.Igot the mattresses out.I’mwaiting for the dumpster to get emptied soIcan fill it again.I’mhalfway through scrubbing all the walls soIcan spend the next three weeks inhaling primer and paint fumes.”
Willow grimaced. “Pleasetell me that the hot firefighter is at least giving you something nice to look at.”
As distant asIhad been from talking about anything and everything “work-related,”Ihad told them aboutJack.
More specifically, thatIhadn’t been able to stop thinking aboutJack.
“He’s not there right now, is he?”Whitneyasked as she thumbed through her plot notes.
I wishIhad plot notes.
I did have the foresight to bring my plotting notebook and my favorite pens, butIhadn’t written so much as a character name in it.
“No.He’son duty,”Isaid whileIpretended to look busy.WhyhadIjoined the call again?Ididn’t have any work to do.
It had been two weeks sinceIcrash-landed onCedarIsland.Withouteven realizing it,JackandIhad fallen into a routine.Hewould come over the morning after he got off work at the fire station and check in to make sureIhadn’t stabbed myself with a screwdriver.Then, he would head back to his place to sleep if he had been up all night.He’dusually come back over and make sureIhad eaten lunch, then pick a project off my list to tinker with.
IfIwere being honest,Ididn’t mind having him around.
I . . . liked it?
That was a strange realization.WhydidIlike having a total stranger around?Jackdidn’t know anything about my life.Jackdidn’t know me.
Wait.
That was it.
Jack didn’t know me.Andwhat a breath of fresh air that was.
I didn’t have to live up to any previous expectations around him.Ididn’t have to be the daughter my mom thoughtIwas supposed to be.Ididn’t have to be the industry peer my friends believedIstill was.Icertainly didn’t have to be the long-suffering partner my ex had conditioned me to be, even through the end of it all.
Jack was also nice to look at . . .
There was something about his name, too.Itwas strong.Masculine.No-nonsense.Itwas probably because of the hard consonants.
But whenIclosed my eyes and let the whisper of his name float along the sea breeze whenIknew he wasn’t near, it was a caress.Softand safe.
“Earth toWander,”Willowsaid, waving her hands from her side of the screen.
“Sorry.Whatwas the question?”
Whitney cocked her head to the side and studied me.
Ah, shit.Iknew that look.
WhileWillowwas the social butterfly of the three of us,Whitneywas the quiet, insightful one, andIwas the curmudgeon.
We were, seemingly, the full gradient of the personality spectrum.Somehow, it worked for us.Oneof us was always ready to step in to balance the others.
“Okay,I’mgoing to ask something and you can totally plead the fifth,”Whitsaid. “Howare you really doing?”Sheglanced atWillow. “Becauseyou kind of dropped off the face of the planet after your book tour, and we’re . . .”
“Worried,”Willowchimed in. “Like. . . really worried.Youalways bounce to the next thing after a book comes out, and this time you’ve . . .”
“Failed.”Isaid the word for them.
“What the hell is going on,Wander?”Willowasked as she scooted closer to the camera.
