Page 15 of The One With the Mountain Man

I parked inside the workshop because why the hell not? It was a massive, empty space with a thick concrete foundation and enormous garage doors that could easily accommodate an RV, not that you could get one up the gravel road, then took the set of stairs at the back that led up to the apartment. It was a relatively small apartment with a living room and kitchen that flowed together. Then down a short hallway was the bedroom and bathroom. It was more modern than I would have typically liked, but free was free. I wasn't about to complain about the décor.

I grabbed another beer from the fridge, took a sip, and let my shoulders relax. It was so quiet it made my ears ring a little. But I knew that would fade as I got used to the lack of noise. Even better, I pushed open a few windows and let the sounds of nature in.

There were no Finns. No friends. No expectations. Could life in Lost Creek really be like this? I had a feeling if I moved back my family would make a habit of barging in.

But if I had a place like this? A place not easy to navigate in the dark? A place just removed enough from town that you had to make an effort to come out here?

Maybe. Just maybe.

Time would tell.

Marley's face flashed through my mind. Where was Marley tonight? Did she make it wherever she was going without another panic attack? How was it possible she'd taken over so much of my mind so quickly? Part of me found that disturbing. But the rest? I liked the way she made me feel, and I wanted more of that.

Of course I only realized thataftershe left. If I had a trademark move it was being slow on the uptake. But I was also a very patient man. If my gut feeling was correct, that the universe wanted me to know Marley, then it would bring us back together at some point.

And when it did, I would be ready this time.

Six

Marley

That's so...sexist!

Hopefully Mackand Joanne didn't mind that I rearranged the furniture. The side table under the stairs was cute but useless. So I dragged it out onto the deck to be my minimalist outdoor desk. One of the kitchen barstools was the exact right height to be my chair. I positioned myself at the corner of the deck so I could pick my view simply by changing which side I sat on.

For now, I chose to look out over the mountains instead of the wall of rock and trees that soared up from the other side of the house. It was bright and sunny with the occasional cloud sweeping by. It was cool as hell to watch the cloud’s shadow move over the mountains. I’d never seen anything quite like it before.

Another thing I'd never seen for myself: nature for miles. Unless you counted being out on the open water, where I could see nothing but water until it met the horizon. Otherwise, the flat nature of Florida meant I could only see as far as the trees or horizon let me. Being up here, seeing mountain peaks rolling on and on and on, I was awestruck. Mother Nature was big and powerful and inspiring.

After careful study I picked out one house buried under a canopy of trees on the next peak. That was it. Just me and that house. Both of us hiding from the world.

So I set my laptop in the center of the table, placed my notes under a rock I found by my truck, and set out the pen and picture frame I always kept with me.

"I'm trying to give you a good adventure," I whispered to the photograph. "But maybe that's the problem." Every time I finished a series it meant putting them away until I wrote them a new story. This series was my favorite adventure yet and I wasn't ready to let them go again.

But I had to. The stage was set, the plot was planned from the beginning, and the cliffhanger had done its job too well. I shocked my readers. At first the online discourse was great for sales. But as the months went by with no word on the publication date for the final book, the readers turned angry. They started writing their own endings, which was fine. I even enjoyed hearing some of their ideas. But their anger had them turning towards the other books in the series, rewriting them the way they thought I should have written them.

It broke me.

Yeah, it sucks to have people—lots of people—tell you your stories are written wrong, but it hurt because they weren't just my stories. I wrote them for Georgie and Adam and Moses. Those stories were theirs and I hated that anyone wanted them to change.

I wanted my stalker to go away. I wanted the death threats to stop. But mostly, I wanted to finish this book so I could close my laptop and walk away knowing the story was finally complete.

For them.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the mountain winds flow over me. I couldn't help but to take a deep breath and let it out. The sound of the wind through the leaves was like a command to be calm, be still, be one with this place.

It was the magic I read on the pages of every Sammy book growing up. I always thought it was the author that brought that something special to the stories, but Jackson telling me the mountains were magic made me rethink everything. And now I knew he was right. There was something very special about this place. Being surrounded by nature on all sides, from the blue skies above to the trees as far as my eyes could see, I half expected a leprechaun to appear in search of my daily rainbow or fairies to peek out from behind the beams of the deck.

Magic.

So I opened my eyes and stared at the blank screen of my laptop because surely the words would just start flowing, right? I had left Georgie on a literal cliff—which she would haveloved—I knew she needed to find Moses and Adam so the three of them could channel the dark magic and defeat the Army of the Dawn and fulfill the prophecy, but every time I set my fingers on the keys nothing came to mind. No words. No excitement. No visions of Georgie gripping her trusty golden sword or her flowing white gown caught in the wind as she steeled herself for imminent death.

My page was still as blank as a brand-new baby's ass when my phone went off nearly an hour later. A picture of my best friend Charley, her hands in the air after scoring a goal, lit up the screen with a video call request. I took a deep breath and then hit the big green button.

"Well, if it isn't my long-lost friend," she said, glaring at me. "So youdoremember how phones work?"

"I wanted to get my feet under me." I really wished I had one of those faces that could pull off anything, however Charley claimed my face had subtitles.

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