Page 46 of Lemon Crush

Ihadbeen writing, just not the book I needed to be working on, and no, I didn’t want to talk about it. Yet I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“The writing is new,” I admitted. “For the last few years, I’ve kept my laptop and my Word documents shut ninety-seven percent of the time.”

“That’s understandable,” he started.

“Is it? Aren’t you curious about what I’ve been doing with myself instead? Do you want to know the last show I watched?The Good Place. It was the fifth time I’d seen it, Wade.In a row. I cried at the end every time and I’m pretty sure I could get a degree in philosophy at this point. That’s one example of thevery importantthings I was accomplishing instead of working, and I can’t even call it research, because I’m supposed to be writing about witches, shifters and complicated blood magic, not loserswho can’t get their acts together. You think that’s understandable?”

“You are not fine.”

“You were sick, August. And before that…” He shook his head. “Nobody’s judging you for taking the time to heal.”

Iwas judging me. It was impossible not to beat myself up over all the newsletters and online posts I’d started, making promises to my agent and readers that I couldn’t keep when my body crashed on me yet again. The trips to the emergency room that had rarely amounted to anything but wasted time and giant bills. The brain fog that made me lose words or forget what I was looking for mid-search. The grief and depression that made it all feel so hopeless.

No villain or obstacle I could dream up to pit against one of my characters could be so insidious. Or justify stepping away from life so completely, for so long.

“Are you better now?” Wade asked quietly. “Physically?”

“I am,” I told him after a moment of hesitation, running my hands through my wet hair. Mostly. “Can it please be your turn again? This AMA was supposed to be about you, not me. And don’t describe your favorite lunch meat or your dream vacation, either. I need something big to make me feel better about admitting how pathetic I am.”

I knew he wanted more details, but I was close to cracking.

“This race might be my last as their mechanic,” he said abruptly. “I haven’t told the guys yet. Only Kingston.”

I gasped, the water splashing around me as my hands dropped in surprise. “Bullshit.”

“I’m adding Dalton, the kid I rented my apartment to, onto the pit crew to see if he’s a good fit, so I won’t feel like shit about leaving them in the lurch. Is that big enough for you?”

It wasn’t bad. I couldn’t imagine how Gene and the others would react if they found out. “Can I ask why?”

He looked over at Merlin, who’d curled up in his favorite spoton the rattan couch beside the apartment door, before meeting my gaze again. “I guess for the same reason I’ve been looking for a home of my own. It’s time to try something new.”

When I could only gape at him, his expression turned flinty. “It doesn’t sound like me, does it? Because I’m predictable.”

“I didn’t say that.” I would have said steadfast. Dependable. Admirable.

“I know what I am. But I’m ready to make some changes. I don’t want to be so stubbornly set in my ways I miss the chance for something better.”

Now he was looking at me like thatsomething bettermight include me, but I tried not to read too much into it.

“Your turn again,” he said. “Does Morgan know you’re leaving yet?”

10

AUGUST

Why didthis man have such a gift for asking the hard, pointy questions?

“It only became an option recently, so no, I haven’t mentioned it to her.” That was the truth, as far as it went.

He lowered his head until his chin was under the water. “Is that all it is? An option?”

The question shouldn’t have been difficult to answer.

“It’s a likely one,” I made myself admit, “for too many reasons to count. Take this house, for example.”

Take this house.

“Wait. It just occurred to me that you’re looking for a house and I’m thinking of selling mine. You wouldn’t want to…?”

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