12. Kelsey
12
KELSEY
“For someone headed to fucking Hawaii , you sure look like you’re on your way to a funeral. What gives?” Hope demands.
I lean my head against the passenger window and let out a sigh. “I’m just tired.”
“I’d say it was all the sex, but you didn’t get any last night.”
Hope had come over to help me pack, which really was more of her sipping on a glass of wine while she watched me pack. I didn’t have much, though. Two large suitcases and a laptop bag. I’ve made a point of living light so traveling is easier.
Now, she’s driving me to the airport.
“I didn’t sleep great,” I admit. “Happens every time I move.”
“You think maybe it’s a sign?” she presses.
“No.” Yes.
The memory of Axel standing in his bedroom doorway, blocking my path, assaults me. I damn near burst into tears. I couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him that I felt nothing, because the truth is I’ve fallen all the way in love with the man. It’s why I have to board that plane.
“Bullshit,” she says. “What’s the real reason you’re running, Kelsey?”
I let out a heavy sigh that finally causes the first tears to fall. There’s no point in omitting the full truth from her anymore. According to the GPS, we have less than twenty minutes before we’ll arrive at the departure terminal. “I move after every few books to make sure I don’t lose the muse or fall in love.”
“I don’t follow.”
“It’s easy to write books about the idea of love,” I explain to her. “But once I experience it for myself, I know it’ll change everything.”
“For the better,” Hope insists.
“No. My story will be over. There’ll be no more stories to write. No new ideas. No more inspiration. I’m not ready to throw away my career. Axel called it a superstition, and you know what? Maybe he’s right. Either way, I can’t risk it. I have to go.”
Hope slams on her brakes, causing the car behind us to honk. She turns onto the first side road and flips around.
“What are you doing?”
“Turning around.”
“My flight leaves in two hours.”
She waits at the stop sign. “If you want to go to the airport, you’ll have to walk from here. I’m not driving another damn mile in that direction.”
“Hope! I’m going to miss my flight.”
“Kelsey Mathers, I’m turning this car around so you can tell the poor man you love him. It’s that, or you’ll have to hitchhike your miserable ass to the terminal. If I thought leaving for Hawaii was best for you, I’d take you there myself. But it’s clearly not, and I’m done aiding and abetting your escape.”
“I just told you why I can’t tell him I love him,” I plead.
“Your logic is very flawed.”
“I need to catch that flight.”
“I say this in the most loving way possible: What you need is to get your head out of your ass. Weren’t you just telling me last night how many new book ideas you have? You couldn’t even count them all. Tell me again how falling in love with Axel is ruining your ability to write books? Because from the way I see it, he’s actually your muse.”
I did have new book ideas. Lots of them. But I’d attributed them to the upcoming tropical adventure. Never mind that none of them were set on an island or even a beach town. Oh no. I’d come up with an entire series premise around volunteer firefighters in a small, mountainside town. All of them grumpy. All of them tattooed.
Shit.
Maybe Hope is right.
“Look, if I’m wrong about this—and for the record, I know I’m not—I’ll buy you a new plane ticket out of here,” Hope insists. “But not unless you take a chance and become the main character of your own love story first.”