Page 78 of Under the Mistletoe
Perfect. He couldn’t look at those on his phone. He checked the clock. He had time for a few tweaks. He clicked over to his email and opened the file.
A bitter taste filled his mouth. This wasn’t a few tweaks. The whole document was red. And by the notes that she’d left, Sandy hated the whole idea. She had made suggestions, but really none of them worked in the larger scope of the story.
Logan stood and paced the room, then sat back in the chair. What was he going to do? He’d had to come up with several backup ideas as well. Maybe she had liked one of them. He opened each one and scanned it over. There was a reason he hadn’t used them. Every one of them fell short. He focused on the last comment in one of the documents.
These all seem to lack that Victor Holt fire I’m used to. What happened to it?
What kind of question was that? If he knew, he’d fix it.
His phone rang, and Mark’s face appeared on screen. He no doubt had just gotten the same files from Sandy. He grabbed the phone and took the call. “I don’t know what she wants.”
“I don’t either, but I can tell you one thing. It isn’t this.” The computer mouse clicked in the background. “I hate to say this, but it may be time to consider other options.”
“You mean a coauthor?” Even the word nauseated him. “I don’t want to do that.”
“We already have the movie deal.” The squeak of Mark’s chair probably meant he was leaning back like he did when thinking. “You could not finish the series and let Hollywood come up with its own ending. Another well-known franchise took that route.”
“And that worked out so well for them.” Logan rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and first finger. Maybe Devin could help him. She understood his world almost as well as he did. “I’ll figure it out. I have to, because I refuse to let Victor Holt die.” He refused to let hope die too.
God had brought him on this journey as an author. Surely, He hadn’t brought him this far to let him fall on his face.
He ended the call and reread the last paragraph.
* * *
She tilted her face to him. “And now I have ripped you from your country with no solution. We don’t even know if we are running toward or away from the enemy.”
* * *
His fingers hovered over the keys a moment, then just typed out the first thing that came to mind.
* * *
“It’s not your fault.” Rand stood and pulled her to a stand and wrapped her in a hug. “Don’t carry the burden of the dead.”
“Origin will see us through this.” Then he stepped back, placing her away from him. “We need to get moving.”
Because even if she’d given up hope, he refused to. He wouldn’t rest until she was safe.
* * *
Logan hit send on the chapter and looked at the clock.
Shoot!
Now he was going to be late. He was failing Devin yet again.
He stood and ran for the door. He sent off a quick text to Devin as he hurried to his Bronco. He had to believe that he could still save Victor Holt. And he had to believe that Rand could still save what was happening between him and Astryn. But for the first time, neither had a clear path in his mind to success.
* * *
Where was Logan? When they had driven all the baby Jesus figurines back to their homes, he had assured her over and over that he’d be here to handle the sheep. But now, two days later, she was standing alone in the barn.
That wasn’t exactly true. Mr. and Mrs. Miller were here. Mr. Miller was leading the miniature donkey around the room as if to calm him, and Mrs. Miller was talking softly to the horse at his stall.
Which left her standing by the sheep pen, certain the cranky beast was giving her the stink eye, if sheep could do that. While at the same time trying to make sure all was in place. People should start arriving at any minute. She wanted to be at the door to greet them, but someone needed to stand here.
There were heat lamps that kept the room between fifty and sixty degrees, but there was still a chill to the space.
