Chapter 42
Long night’s journey into dawn.
The hotel room was dark when she let herself back in. Leah was fast asleep, snoring lightly under the blanket.
Emma closed the door soundlessly, toed off her shoes, and padded barefoot to the other side of the suite. She didn’t turn on any lights. Leah must have been exhausted—she’d fallen asleep without closing the curtains.
Emma’s laptop was waiting on the couch by the window. She grabbed a pen, twisted her hair around it, and pinned it into a messy chignon, her movements practiced and automatic. Her tiny, familiar ritual.
Then she sat down, folded her legs beneath her, and opened the file for The Bonds of Light sequel. She ignored the messy jumble of files—character notes, synopsis, scattered plot comments—and opened a blank page. The cursor blinked at her—a promise and a threat.
“Alright, Catlyn,” she murmured to the glowing screen. “Let’s do this.”
The words began pouring out of her. They rushed through her mind, into her fingers, and straight onto the page. She saw it happen in front of her. Felt it in her body.
It wasn’t perfect. It was raw and unfiltered, and she knew some sections would make her editor whimper.
But she didn’t stop. Didn’t hold back. The power of it was almost overwhelming. Like letting something larger than her speak through her body.
Was this what letting go felt like? And if it was, why the hell had she been so scared of it?
Time slipped by.
Emma barely noticed until she saw the faint glow of the day coming awake. Light crept gently over the rooftops, as if it didn’t want to startle anyone. She closed the computer, curled her arms around her knees, and simply watched the city outside.
And somewhere between moonlight and morning, she made a decision.
She was tired of being afraid.
Tired of letting caution, expectations, and other people’s opinions answer for her when something real was calling her name. Something that felt true and important.
She wasn’t a nurse or a firefighter—she wasn’t saving lives. But she created worlds people could escape to when the real one felt too dark, too cold, or just overwhelming. And that meant something too.
That was her gift. The thing that made her feel like she had a place in the world.
When the orange dawn turned brighter, Emma pulled the curtains shut, not wanting to wake Leah. She slipped into the bathroom, letting the shower rinse the previous day off her skin, leaving her warm and clean.
She brushed her teeth, combed through her damp hair, and pulled on jeans and a pale blue sweater.
When she came back out, the suite was already washed in a softer mid-morning light where the curtains didn’t quite meet. A groan rose from the bed.
Leah flung an arm across her face, her voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost nine. Sorry if I woke you,” Emma said.
Leah peeked out from under her sleep mask. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been up all night?”
Emma shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “I felt inspired. I think I know where I need to go with the sequel now. I was playing it too safe. Wait until you see what I’ll throw at Catlyn. I think you’ll like it.”
“Awesome,” Leah grumbled as she rolled onto her stomach. “Can’t wait. At some point, we need to talk about your sleeping habits. Or your lack of them. Are you at least going to try to sleep?”
“No,” Emma said, plain and simple.
“Oh god, you’re about to do something, aren’t you?” Leah said into the pillow, voice muffled. “My spidey senses are making the room spin. Or maybe that’s the hangover. Just tell me; I’m too tired to guess.”
A wave of gratitude hit Emma for this fiercely loyal woman who’d gone above and beyond from day one. Who’d believed in her long before Emma believed in herself. Who, somehow, in just six months, had become one of her closest friends.
“I’m sorry, Leah,” she said. “For the fight. For accusing you of not caring. And for not listening when you were just trying to help.”
“Okay. Who are you and have you killed Emma Whitehart? Because I have a band of lawyers on retainer who will make you—”
“I’m serious.” Emma stood, walking up to the bed. “Leah, you’ve been there for me at every turn, and I love you for it. But it’s time I start making my own decisions. And I know where I need to start.”
Leah squinted at her. “It’s hard to tell in this light, but you look . . . different.”
“I feel different,” Emma said. She did. Taller somehow, her shoulders settling back.
“Should I be worried?”
Emma shook her head. “No. You have worried enough on my behalf. Now it’s my turn in the ring. I’m going to fix it. All of it. But before I go, will you forgive me?”
Leah sighed, dramatic as ever, then pulled the mask back into place. She waved Emma off with a sleepy flick of her hand. “Fine. Just don’t wake me up again unless someone’s dead and you need help with the body.”
Emma grabbed her bag and headed for the door, her heartbeat steady as a metronome.
“Hey,” Leah called from the bed. “Good luck, Em. I’m rooting for you. But if you ever talk to me like that again, I’m releasing that video of you day drunk on mimosas, singing ‘Let It Go’ to your cats.”
Emma chuckled. “Sounds fair.”
Leah turned on her side, pulling the covers over her head. “Good. Now get the hell out of here and let the normal people sleep.”
Emma took a deep breath. It was time to go to Comic-Con.
And this time, she wasn’t going to hide.