Page 148 of Lucky Shot
“Have you talked to her?”
I don’t have to guess who he’s talking about.
“Yeah, we’ve been texting.”
“But?”
“There’s no but.”
“Of course there is. If there weren’t, you wouldn’t be moping around here without her.”
He’s not wrong.
“You’re scared that you’ll let her all the way in and then she’ll leave anyway.”
As soon as he says the words, I know they’re true, so I don’t bother denying it. I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of asking her to be mine, and her saying no or her saying yes, and then it ultimately not working out.
“You can’t predict the future, but you can fight like hell to make the here and now everything you want. And I think what you want is in Arizona.”
Technically, she’s in Colorado for the convention, but I get his point.
Aidan comes down the stairs with his dark hair sticking in every direction and smelling like body spray—a new development this year.
Dad’s face tells me he smells it too.
“Morning,” I say as he comes into the kitchen area. He goes straight to the fridge for the milk. Then pulls out a bowl and a box of Frosted Flakes. He makes a massive serving of the sugary cereal before bringing it over to the table.
The smell is almost enough to knock me out of my chair.
“New scent?” I ask him. He went shopping with his mom before school started, but I don’t think she expected him to wear the entire bottle.
He bobs his head as he spoons a huge bite into his mouth.
“Well, I better get ready. I’m taking you to practice this morning,” Dad tells Aidan.
“Okay,” he replies.
“Thanks,” I say to my dad.
“It’s a nice morning. We’ll put the windows down and enjoy a little fresh air.”
I hold back a laugh. “Good idea. I’ll open a few windows in here too.”
33
RUBY
By the second day of the convention, I’m exhausted but in the best way. Yesterday I signed books until my hand ached and my face hurt from smiling. There is truly nothing better than chatting with readers. I love fangirling with them over our shared favorites. After all, I was a reader before I was an author.
As soon as I leave my room, I’m plucked back into the chaos. People are already out with their carts and wagons filled with books they brought from home to be signed. They’re armed with iced beverages and water bottles and wear comfortable shoes and shirts that proudly proclaim their love of books and devotion to particular fandoms.
Molly greets me at the elevator with a coffee.
“Good morning,” she chirps with a cheery smile as she extends the cup toward me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Not great,” I say as I eagerly take the coffee. My voice is slightly hoarse from all the talking I did yesterday. “Thanks for this.”
“Everything okay?” Molly asks, always ready to problem-solve.
