Afterword
AFTERWORD
While I wrote this, I realized that it was a continuation not just of the series but of things I talked about at the end of Bear on the Mountain. About my Lyle-Lovett-loving friend I lost to cancer. But also about my other friends, the ones who get me through some of the hardest points in my life, whether they know it or not (I tend to downplay things, to get quiet and tuck into the nearest cave I can find when the going gets tough, often to my detriment.).
If you don’t mind, let me take a minute here before you go on to the next book in your stack or queue to tell you a little bit about my best friend, my oldest friendship now, the woman I call my sister.
I met Mish sophomore year of high school after a rough freshman year. First class on the first day, she sat at the bench in front of me in biology. The bell hadn’t rung yet when she tipped her head all the way back until she was looking at me upside down.
“Hi. I’m Michelle. Who the hell are you?”
As I looked into her upside down eyes, a voice in my head told me She’s going to be your best friend or your worst enemy. Choose which one you want. Right. Now .
I chose best friend. No—sister. And through all our ups and downs from then until now, I have never once regretted that decision.
We listened to the same weird music (Kate Bush, Bauhaus, all the punk that’s fit to print) and that old time rock and roll when it was still a thing. We were in every art, English, and creative writing class together. We were the co-editors-in-chief of the school newspaper. I was going to be a war correspondent and she was going to pick up where Georgia O’Keeffe left off in the art world.
We had adventures.
College came. She went to one, I went to another.
Didn’t matter. Still had adventures in a big city on a big lake, often involving getting lost on public transportation, dancing in punk and goth clubs, and severe lapses in judgment.
Eh. We made it home alive.
After college, I got married and moved to Colorado. She moved out here not long after. We continued our adventures. Now they were in the mountains and involved doing things like identifying wildflowers on hikes. Also, tracking bears and mountain lions to their dens and other lapses in judgment.
Eh. We still made it home alive.
Then, we almost didn’t make it home alive.
Not through any adventures. We’re pros at those. But through the shit life likes to throw at you while you’re having fun.
Cancer sucks.
She’s had hers. I’ve had mine.
We’re okay now, but we had some real “Wind Beneath My Wings” moments there, let me tell you, taking turns being the one in the hospital bed and the one sitting bedside.
When it was my turn in the bed, she was there after my surgery when I was missing an internal organ and on a post-op ketamine high. And you know what she did? She brushed my disgusting, tangled, post-op hair and read me “The Snow Queen” as I went in and out of consciousness. But I heard every word. Hell, thanks to the ketamine, I saw that story unfold in my head .
And so I was not scared. Not one bit. Because of her. She had my back.
So, that’s why this book is dedicated to my adventure buddy, Mish. You and me, punk rock girl.
Other friends have disappeared from my life, like they did from Frankie’s. It’s sad and disappointing and really hurt for a long time. But, I’ve come to find that they did me a favor, leaving space for new friends to fill. I think you might be familiar with some of them, probably have a book or two of theirs in that stack sitting next to you or on your e-reader right now. I’ll let you go read them—in a minute, in a minute, I’m not done yet. Because I also want to tell you how amazing they are.
This is a lonely business at times. It can be mean. It can be downright cutthroat. But I found women who make sure it isn’t. Trinity was the first and best friend I made in the wild and crazy world of romance authors. She’s wicked funny (and sometimes just wicked) and I could not do this without her. Her constant message of Are you done writing my next favorite book yet? makes sure that I do. Plus, she and I have had the best adventures—through cities, up mountains, and across lakes, all powdered by chocolate and cheese. And lemons. Lemons are key.
Then along came Caitlyn O’Leary who opened the doors wide after I’d been banging my head on them for so, so, sooo long. She also called me the night before my surgery initially to brainstorm a story (my favorite thing to do in the world) and ended up talking me down from a scary place. And you know, she still does that for me from time to time, as I hope I do for her, too. Thank you, Caitlyn.
She also introduced me to Riley Edwards. Not sure what I’d do without my Tiki. I can always call her for a laugh or a cry, and sometimes both. We have been through a lot in a short time, to the point where I feel like I’ve known her forever and wish we’d met sooner.
Riley in turn, introduced me to Bella Stone—my Irish sister from another mister. There are times when I think I made Bella up, because she’s so incredibly interesting and she matches everything I ever wanted my imaginary friend to be—smart, funny as hell, a bigger dog-lover than I am, tough as nails, and ready to pass the hat for bail money. Seriously, she’s a superhero who saves everyone’s bacon and I love her to pieces. Also, Taytos.
Kris Michaels actually ran across a crowded room to hug me the second time we met to congratulate me on launching my author career. That hug meant the world and still does. Now we do writing sprints together. When I don’t think I can write another word, she’s there encouraging me, and I’m there kicking her butt right back. Time. Ready. Go. Rinse and repeat. That’s how books get made, thirty minutes at a time.
And so many, many more amazing authors I’m happy and proud to call friends. Y’all know who you are and what you did and I have the receipts.
Eh. We made it home alive.