Chapter 26 - Willow #2
When I was just about to drift off, his arm tightened around me. I frowned as the page flips grew louder, like he was snapping the pages. I rubbed my eyes, blinking against the light of his fireplace.
“Is something wrong?” I struggled to sit up, my body yelling at me for ignoring sleep yet again, but something about Thorne seemed off. His eyebrows knit together, staring at my manuscript like it was written in a foreign language. “What’s going on?”
“You had me kill the King? You really think I’d do that?”
A sinking feeling swept over me as I realized he’d skipped right to the end instead of reading the entire book I’d worked so hard on. “If you read the rest, you’ll see why I did that.”
“But I’m not the villain, remember?” His voice was rough as he sat up straighter.
The bed didn’t feel nearly as comfortable with all this new tension in the air between us. I stared at the mattress, not wanting to see that strange look in his eye anymore. Like he blamed me for writing it wrong.
“I thought we decided you were a morally gray anti-hero type character.” I gestured at the pages in his hands. “This is exactly what that kind of character would do.”
“Well then I’m not that.” He shoved the manuscript back at me. “I just don’t think I’d kill somebody, not if I didn’t have to.”
“But this is what you asked for.” The weight of the pages in my hands felt like a rock as I stared at them.
Did he really not see how amazing this ending was?
“You said you wanted to go out with a bang and to be remembered by everyone for doing something amazing. Killing the King did that! I didn’t even need to kill you off either. I thought you’d appreciate that.”
My heartbeat echoed in my ears, and my face grew hot.
I thought I’d done such a good job, given him everything he asked for, but it still wasn’t enough.
Just like at the Tales and Tomes Festival.
What was the point in writing a book if nobody liked it?
Maybe if I’d finished it like I’d planned, if I’d waited until it was perfect before letting him see it, then he’d have understood.
But no, I’d been so excited to see him that I let my emotions get the better of me and had let him read it before it was ready.
Now his silence could only mean one thing: he hated it.
“I never should have let you read it before it was done,” I whispered. “I just really wanted to share it with you tonight, but an incomplete story won’t impress anyone.” I swallowed the lump in my throat as I moved off the bed. “Just forget about it.”
“Wait!” Thorne reached out to me, but I pulled away. His expression turned pained as he dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s me, but that’s not your fault. I didn’t realize it myself until I read that chapter and felt weird. You couldn’t have known that.”
That’s right, I couldn’t have known that, but I had known all along that I was too inexperienced to write this book. No matter how amazing my ideas might be, my writing wasn’t good enough to hold up. I was just an apothecary stuck in a fantasy world with dreams of being a famous writer.
I clutched my hand to my chest. This series was so much bigger than me, and I had no right to try and finish it.
Even Grandpa would have told me it was too much for me to handle right now.
He might have been a dreamer, but he always knew where the line was between optimism and foolishness.
I, apparently, did not. But there was still time to fix that. I just had to stop fooling myself.
“It’s fine, Thorne.” I took a deep breath and moved off the bed. “Since you don’t like it, I won’t submit it. I won’t write another word in fact. I never wanted to be a writer anyway.”
“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.” He jumped up. “I still think you’re an amazing writer, so I’m sure if we just tweak some things, it’ll work. We can lock the King up or something like that.”
“Really?” I shook my head. He’d read so many books, but somehow still didn’t understand the fans of his series at all. “The readers wouldn’t be happy with a blah ending like that. They’re looking for something big and memorable. You were too when we first started this.”
“Don’t let it end like this.” His voice was so quiet I almost missed it.
Did he mean the story...or us? And was there even an us without the book?
The sad expression on Thorne’s face was too hard to look at.
Giving up on writing this book would hurt him, but if I submitted it and the fans hated it, it would hurt us both.
How had I let this all get so messed up?
I never should have gotten so close to him.
If we weren’t together, then I could have just told him the ending I chose was right and I didn’t care what he thought.
Except I did care. I cared so much it hurt.
This wasn’t what I signed up for.
“I’m done.” I crossed my arms over my chest, gripping my sides tight. “I’m just not cut out to be a writer, so there’s no point in finishing the book. I quit.”
I tossed my manuscript on his bed as golden light filled the room, enveloping me in magic that felt very familiar. Then it was gone and so was Thorne. I blinked, turning to take in all the bookshelves and tables and the many patrons filling the Misty Mountain Library.
Relief flooded my body. I was back. I could finally go home!
I turned, half expecting to see Thorne standing there, but he hadn’t followed me out of the book. I knew deep down he wouldn’t. I’d seen that pained look on his face before. In the mirror.
My eyes burned from exhaustion and from the hot tears welling up. I started making my way outside but stumbled across Nyssa and Oren in a circle of books on the floor surrounding the great book tree.
“Willow!” Nyssa leapt up, pulling me into a hug as a grin spread across her face. “I’m so glad you’re back safely!”
“But how is she back?” Oren took his glasses off to clean them as he squinted at me. “Did you figure out how the magic worked or use a relic or something?”
Nyssa winced. “Relics definitely didn’t work for us. We kind of exploded a few trying to get you out.”
They seemed so happy, but I could barely process their words. The look of agony on Thorne’s face was the only thing on my mind.
“I have to get home, sorry.” I pushed past them as fast as I could. “I’ll come back later and we can talk!”
The moment I was back in the forest I loved so much, I let the tears fall. I cried so hard I could barely see as I stumbled down the mountain. This was why I never got close to anyone. It always ended in disappointment and someone hurting the other.
It was easier to be alone.