I chuckle. “Good point.”
Zara gives my arms a playful shove, hinting for me to remove them from the counter. “I’ll be right back with your order.”
She disappears through the door to the kitchen and returns with my takeout lunch and hands it to me. “Have a good run.”
I drive to the Wilderness Warriors property on the outskirts of town. The land, which covers fifty acres, is mostly open meadow and a forest of maple trees, with the local mountain range beyond.
I park the Explorer next to Kellan’s Trailblazer on the gravel driveway in front of the main building. It resembles a large log cabin with a wheelchair ramp on one side. The driveway is scheduled to be paved in two weeks. One more thing on my to-do list that has nothing to do with my writing, which pays my bills. But since I’ve got seven more months until my manuscript is due to my editor, it’ll be fine.
Time to make a video for social media. Gotta nurture my connections with my readers.
I shoot a video of the landscape that was buried under a thick layer ofsnow last month. “Hey, everyone,” I say, the camera still on the meadow. “About to go running with one of my brothers, to help get those creative juices flowing.” I move the camera up. “Check out these snow-covered mountains. Another week or two and everything here will be green, as far as the trees are concerned. Beautiful. What does it look like where you live? Comment below.”
I tap the Stop button.
“Thought your readers prefer seeing your ugly face.”
Kellan’s shoes crunch across the gravel, and I turn to greet him. He has on the same running gear as me, minus the hoodie. “Hey.”
When most people see us together, they assume we’re biological brothers. Maybe even fraternal twins, given we’re the same age and our hair is the same shade of dark brown. We’re both in great shape from working out daily, a way to deal with the demons we don’t like to talk about. His eye color is the only obvious difference that separates him from Lucas, Troy, our parents, and me. My adopted brother’s eyes are blue; ours are brown.
“Maybe they would like to see me, but after what happened with the Annie Wilkes clone three years ago, I keep my face out of my social media posts whenever I can.”
“At least she wasn’t as crazy as that character in Stephen King’sMisery.”
“Yeah, Annie Wilkes 2.0 didn’t lock me in her house and demand I resurrect a character I’d killed off. But remember, she did stalk me and send insane messages, outlining our happily ever after together. She even showed up at all my book signings that year—including the ones overseas.”
Kellan grunts. “The beautiful ones are always the most dangerous.”
A laugh erupts from me. “I doubt Lucas and Troy would agree. Simone and Jessica are beautiful, and they’re far from dangerous.”
Even so, I know what my brother means. I’m not the only one who discovered the hard way that beauty doesn’t always reflect what’s beneath the surface. In Kellan’s case, the beautiful demon from his past cost him three years in prison.
“Anyway, most of my readers don’t give a damn what I look like. Aslong as the stories are exciting and well written, they’re happy.” Stories that I need at least nine months to write so the characters and plots are gripping and the books are impossible to put down.
My phone rings, and I glance at it. Maxwell.
“I’ve got to get this,” I tell Kellan, tossing him an apologetic look. “Hopefully it will be quick.” I accept the call, and Kellan begins stretching his legs, lunging his right foot forward. “Hey, Maxwell. What’s up?”
“I’ve got some great news…and some not-so-great news.”
“Okay. Hit me with the not-so-great news first.”
“You don’t get a say in the order.” If his tone could take human form, it would guffaw and slap me on the back.
“Okay, just tell me however you’d like.”
“I just got off the phone with Bethany. She sold the movie rights to your next book.”
Surprise sends my stomach into a backward flip. “Holy shit. She sold the rights toUnfallen?”
This isn’t the first time movie rights have been sold for one of my books. But none of the sold rights have resulted in actual movies. It’s just been extra income. Nice extra income. Still, I’ve learned not to get overly excited whenever Max tells me news about movie rights.
“Not exactly.” His barely held-back excitement vibrates through the phone line, the emotion straining on an invisible leash.
“What exactly did she sell the rights to, then?”
“Untold Mercy.”
