Page 19 of Always a Chance
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell us what’s bothering you.”
“No.”
“Johnny,” she ground out. Finley, like Tanner, was what Shane and I always called an over-sharer. She said she preferred the term “open book.” Tanner said he was honest. But to the oldest and youngest Kelly, they didn’t know when to keep things to themselves.
We were on the opposite end of the spectrum, shut up tighter than a boss-hole in an enemies to lovers romance. I spent way too much time relating everything back to my books.
When I’d texted the SOS, I just wanted milkshakes with people who didn’t make me feel like I was losing my mind. What I forgot was that everyone in the Kelly family was already two acts short of a complete story.
“A little help here,” I said when Finley didn’t loosen her grip. The woman was strong.
Saved by the milkshakes. Callie appeared with a tray and set a chocolate shake in front of me. It had extra whipped cream just like I liked.
Finley’s eyes lit up as she looked at hers. She pulled her hand away and all but forgot about me. One of Callie’s servers set plates of cheesy, vinegary chips on the table and all talk ceased as we descended like a pack of rabid dogs.
“So, what’s really going on?” Finley asked, her mouth full. A crumb fell onto her shirt, and I wanted to take a picture and send it to Knox. He always missed these delicious, messy Finley moments.
I refrained. “My current book sucks.”
Shane’s brow creased. “Didn’t you say that last time and it went on to hit multiple bestseller lists?”
“Yeah, but I also got the worst reviews of my career. I think I’m losing my mojo.”
“Is that really something you can lose?” Tanner asked around the straw of his shake. “I mean, if you’re a talented writer, you’re a talented writer. Maybe you just need some inspiration.”
“Oh, I’ll just go buy some.” I shook my head. Inspiration wasn’t something that grew on trees. I didn’t get to decide when it came, no matter when my deadlines were.
“Unless you need our considerable romance knowledge and ideas for the book, that’s not an SOS worthy call.” Finley had a knack for seeing through all of us, for hearing what we didn’t say. She also had been bugging me to listen to her ideas for some stories. I hadn’t opened up that Pandora’s box yet.
“You’re right.” I sighed, taking a moment to eat a chip.Honest, Johnny.For once, I wanted to tell the people I cared most about what was going on in my head. That was new for me. “The pressure is killing me. Not only the deadline, but my publisher is all over me about a million other things, they won’t let me handle a single interview myself, I can’t keep lying to the entire world, Gianna is still having seizures, and the girl I thought I loved before she blamed me for ruining her sister’s life is suddenly back in town.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part.
My chest heaved with deep breaths as I tried to calm the pounding of my heart. All three of my siblings stared at me like they’d never seen me before.
Our burgers arrived, and I took a giant bite to keep myself from saying anything else.
Finley was the first to speak. “Okay, that was a lot. I’m not sure where to start.”
“The girl,” Tanner said. “We always start with the girl.”
I groaned and closed my eyes for a brief moment. “Let’s forget about the girl.”
“Woman,” Finley corrected. “Talia Hillson is definitely not just a girl anymore. That is who we’re talking about, right? Classic girl next door romance.”
“This isn’t a book; it’s my life.” I wished more than anything I hadn’t called this meeting. Then I wouldn’t have to stand their pitying looks. They all knew my history with Talia, though there were some things I never shared. Like the fact that I’d gotten to kiss her for one blissful moment of my existence before everything went wrong.
That my feelings weren’t as unrequited as I’d thought back then.
“I’m sorry.” Finley gave me a sympathetic look. “We know it’s serious. You’re right. This isn’t a love story with a guaranteed happy ending. Have you seen her since she returned?”
I was not talking about this with them, not when I didn’t even know what to tell myself. “Subject change. How about we discuss my current identity crisis instead? That I’d never really considered how my entire career being built on a lie might one day ruin it.”
“It only ruins it if people find out,” Tanner put in.
He didn’t get it. “A lie is a lie, whether anyone knows about it or not. This isn’t about someone accidentally finding out, like my entire family. I don’t know if I can keep it up. I can’t answer my own interview questions; I can’t meet readers or do events. They think they know me, that Trinity is one of them.”
“So, reveal your identity.” Shane said it like it was so simple.
“It’s not that easy. I have contracts. This career isn’t my own. My publisher…”
