Chapter 25
For several minutes, Garrett stood there, glaring down at the evil woman that left him tied to a bed all night while he waited for her to profess her undying love for him, but instead, she sat there, pulling out a muffin from the brown paper bag that he hadn’t noticed before and began nibbling on it.
Narrowing his eyes on the woman that he adored, he snatched the brown paper bag that better have a tasty treat for him, took in the coffee rolls that she thought would appease him after she’d treated him like a whore, and headed back to his desk only to turn around and pluck that tasty muffin out of her hand, deciding that it was the least that she could do after playing with his emotions.
“You really didn’t think that I was going to make it easy, did you?” Kristen murmured absently, sounding really fucking amused for someone that needed her ass spanked.
“We’re over,” Garrett bit out, finishing off the tasty muffin while he continued glaring at her and absolutely-fucking refusing to find the way that her lips pulled up into a smile adorable.
She didn’t deserve to be called adorable.
Not after he was forced to spend the night tied to his bed, and definitely not after she decided to show up bright and early this morning with an assortment of delicious-looking donuts that she’d eaten in front of him from the comfort of his lap.
Once she’d finished off the last delicious-looking morsel, she released a satisfied sigh, let him go and made her way downstairs, leaving him to seethe as he got ready for work.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you that those donuts weren’t half as yummy as they looked?” Kristen asked, grabbing her bag off the floor.
“I’d know that you were lying,” Garrett bit out with a glare for the woman that he’d thought about all night.
“They were delicious,” Kristen said as she pulled out an assortment of envelopes from her bag and looked through them.
Nodding slowly, Garrett said, “I knew you were evil.”
“Yet, you still adore me,” she said, having absolutely no idea just how much.
“Is that why you’re tormenting me?” Garrett asked as he helped himself to one of the coffee rolls.
“I mean, there are many reasons why I’m tormenting you, each one more complicated than the last,” Kristen said, opening one of the envelopes and read through the letter inside before she placed it back in the envelope and tossed it on the coffee table.
“Because you can?” Garrett asked, finishing off the coffee roll and reached for another.
“That’s one reason,” Kristen drawled, her lips twitching as she went through the next letter that had her smiling.
“Fan mail?” Garrett asked, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Mmmhmm,” she murmured absently as she went through each one, making the occasional note in a notebook before she moved on to the next one. “Kelly sent me one a few years ago,” she said, taking him by surprise as she made another note.
“Kelly did?” Garrett asked as he thought about the mean little girl that tried to make Kristen’s life a living hell.
Nodding, she said, “I got one from Amanda, too,” making him chuckle.
“That must have been interesting,” Garrett said, finishing off another coffee roll as he reached for his coffee only to go still when he saw it, the slight trembling of her hand as she stared down at the letter in her hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching her swallow hard as she shoved the letter back in the envelope.
“Nothing,” Kristen mumbled absently, shaking her head as she moved to toss the envelope on the coffee table to join the others only to rethink that decision and made her way across the room and tossed it in his trash before she went back to the couch.
Frowning, Garrett put his coffee down as he stood up and made his way to the trash can. He pulled the letter out of the envelope and-
Dear K.L.,
Still nothing.
One whole year and you have nothing to show for it.
No words. No pages. No excuses left that anyone believes.
At this point, even the readers who used to count down the days until you released another book wonder why they ever did in the first place.
Readers don’t say your name anymore unless someone else brings it up first-and even then, it’s followed by silence.
You call it writer’s block because that sounds temporary. Harmless. Like it will be over one day instead of your new reality. But everyone else knows the truth: you’re empty. You ran out of words. Whatever you thought made you special is gone and it’s never coming back.
It’s over.
You know that, don’t you?
Readers don’t miss you. They’ve already moved on. They have new favorites. Found better stories written by authors who actually publish books instead of hiding behind excuses and pretending they’re “working through something.”
They’re done waiting.
They’ve replaced you.
Just like your mother.
Mothers don’t abandon children they love. They give away their mistakes and hope that they never have to deal with them again. Your mother doesn’t love you, probably never did, and I really can’t blame her.
Can you?
I picture you sitting there every day, staring at the blank screen, hoping the words will magically appear, hoping that readers won’t forget you. That they’re still waiting for you, willing to overlook the fact that you’ve made them wait so long for the same garbage that you’ve written before.
They aren’t waiting.
They’ve moved on.
The longer it takes, the more obvious it becomes that your books were never that good to begin with. Now, they see who you are, who you pretended to be, an author who thinks she’s relevant, but now, they know exactly who you are.
A writer who can’t write.
You top DNF lists, get overlooked by even the most desperate readers, and your reviews are filled by one-star reviews warning others not to waste their time.
We both know how this ends.
It’s only a matter of time before you’re forgotten, replaced, and barely remembered by the readers who were once desperate enough to buy your books.
Until next month...
-Not Your Biggest Fan
The letter was snatched from his hand as he stood there, grinding his jaw, more furious than he’d ever been in his life.
“Amber usually gets rid of them,” Kristen said, shrugging it off as she tore the letter in half and dropped it back in the trash can.
“You’ve gotten these before?” Garrett asked, watching her as she made her way back to the couch.
“Every month for the past year,” she said, sounding bored as she dropped back on the couch and grabbed her computer.
“There was no return address,” Garrett said, watching her closely as she placed her fingers on the keys.
“There never is,” Kristen said as he watched her fingers continue to tremble.
She should have let Amber take over handling her fan mail when she had the chance, but she didn’t feel right about it. She hated not interacting with the readers every day like she used to, but she couldn’t handle the pressure right now.
She just...
She just needed to stop thinking about that letter and focus back on finishing this book, Kristen reminded herself with a firm nod as she slowly exhaled and-
Kept thinking about that damn letter.
She never would have opened the envelope if she knew what was inside.
Instead of using the normal red ink, which made it easier to spot the letters, the writer had used a printed label and placed it on an ordinary white envelope.
Knowing that someone was sending her those letters was hard enough, but actually reading one?
It destroyed the part of her that still hoped that this was temporary. It made her wonder if the fact that she couldn’t seem to write unless Garrett was there was the final step before she finally lost the ability to write. She-
“Put this on,” Garrett said, making her frown as she found herself staring down at the tee-shirt on her lap.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up what appeared to be another Bradford Construction tee-shirt and glanced up in time to watch as Garrett pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the couch.
“Meet me in the kitchen,” was all he said before he left, leaving her sitting there, staring down at the shirt on her lap.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to write without him, Kristen reluctantly closed her laptop and placed it on the coffee table.
She stood up and quickly changed her shirt before she made her way to the kitchen, curious to see what Garrett was up to even as she found herself thinking about that letter again, wondering what she could have done to piss someone off that much to make her life a living hell.
When she first started to get them, she’d thought that it was Garrett, but she knew that he would never stoop that low. He-
“Put these on,” Garrett said, making her frown as she walked into the kitchen that had seen better days only to find him holding out a pair of goggles.
As soon as she took them, he picked up a sledgehammer and handed it to her before gesturing around them while she stood there, taking in the cracked countertops, warped cabinet doors, and faded paneling.
“Go nuts,” he said as she put the goggles on and slowly exhaled as she grabbed hold of the sledgehammer and nodded to herself, deciding that this was exactly what she needed.