Chapter 25 Anna #2
I rolled my eyes playfully. “My bank account has a different opinion. I mean, I’ve tried to write.
I’ve written novels and submitted short stories to contests and magazines, pitched ideas to agents, and entered competitions.
You name it, I’ve done it. And every single time, it’s the same: rejection.
Sometimes they’re polite. Sometimes they’re brutal.
‘Not the right fit.’ ‘Lacks originality.’ I once got a form rejection where they didn’t even bother to spell my name right. ”
Luke winced. “I saw. That’s rough.”
“It is. I just haven’t found my niche. Romance?
I can’t make it work. Fantasy? Nope. Thriller?
Not my forte. And I’ve made a deal with myself that I’ll keep going until I hit a hundred rejections.
Then, if no one sees something in my writing by then, I’ll give up.
I’ll accept it’s not meant to be and move on. ”
His brow furrowed as if I’d said something deeply offensive. “A hundred rejections? That’s your finish line? What number are you at now?”
I winced. “Ninety-nine. I figure one hundred is a fair number—enough to say I gave it everything. At some point, maybe I need to listen to what the universe is telling me.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond, just looked at me with those piercing blue eyes. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I bet this story you’re writing now is your masterpiece.”
I smiled, something bittersweet tugging at my heart. “You’re awfully optimistic for someone who doesn’t know if I’m any good.”
Luke shrugged, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. Or maybe I know talent when I see it. Even if it’s still waiting for its moment.”
I looked away, trying to keep the warmth rising in my chest from showing too much. I snuggled the blanket tighter around me. “What about you? Is acting your calling?”
His expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his polished exterior.
“Acting? Yeah, it’s my thing. But the fame circus?
That’s a whole different story. It’s like walking a tightrope, especially with relationships.
Topher’s always been an exception, probably because he knew me before all of this.
But figuring out who’s there for you and who’s just along for the ride.
It’s tricky. Especially when it’s family. ”
I noticed the hesitation in his voice, the unspoken words hanging between us. “Your parents?” I prompted gently.
“Not my dad—he was different. He was there for me until the end. But others… let’s just say their support comes with conditions.”
I didn’t press, sensing the rawness of the subject. Instead, I shifted gears. “You’ve been all over the world, right? What’s your favorite place?”
He chuckled, the tension easing. “Honestly? Wherever my shoes are at the moment. The beauty of my job is that it’s like having a worldwide plane ticket. Sometimes, I even pick roles based on the shoot location. Settling down in one place? That’s not my style.”
I grinned. “Let me guess: you’ve got properties scattered across the globe?”
He shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. “A house in LA, the place in France. A penthouse in Manhattan. Investments, mostly. Topher’s idea. But roots? Nah, not for me. What about you? What’s your favorite place?”
That one was easy. “Destin, Florida. Every summer, it was just my mom and me. We’d rent this tiny condo with just a bedroom, a bathroom, nothing fancy.
But it sat right on the beach. She stretched her budget to the limit to make those trips special.
The last time we went…” My throat tightened.
“It was just a few months before she passed away.”
I hesitated, feeling the words catch in my chest. “In a way, that trip led to her passing.”
Luke leaned forward, his blue eyes full of concern. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
There was something in his voice that made it feel safe to let down my guard.
I hadn’t planned to say more, but the words came anyway.
“She didn’t have any vacation time left after that trip, so when Hurricane Katrina hit, she had to stay and work.
My mom was an incredible artist. Watercolors, acrylics…
she could paint anything. But it wasn’t enough to pay the bills, so she worked as an aide at a retirement home.
She used to bring me to work with her, even though she wasn’t supposed to.
The rest of the family had already evacuated, so I stayed in her office while she worked.
” I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing.
“Then, just hours before the hurricane hit, they decided to evacuate the nursing home.”
Luke’s brow furrowed. “Why did they wait so long?”
“It’s not an easy decision,” I explained, my voice steadying as I slipped into the memory. “Moving elderly residents can be dangerous. Some don’t survive the stress. But as the storm’s path became clear, staying wasn’t an option anymore.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “That must have been agonizing for everyone.”
“My mom and I went home to pack, thinking we’d drive until we found a hotel. But by the time we were ready to leave, the roads were closed. The storm was almost here. We had no choice but to stay and ride it out.”
Luke’s gaze held mine, a mix of horror and empathy washing over his features. “That’s terrifying.”
“It was,” I admitted, remembering the worst day of my life.
“The storm itself was chaos. The wind, the rain… it was as if the world were breaking apart. But the real nightmare started after. The levees broke, and water started flooding the city. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky anymore, but everywhere you looked, water was rising.
Our house was one level. My mom knew we couldn’t stay. ”
I took a shaky breath, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
“We got in the car, trying to outrun the water. It felt like it was chasing us relentlessly. Everywhere we turned, there were downed trees and debris blocking the roads. But my mom kept going. She believed we’d make it to high ground.
Then the car just stopped. Water started seeping in. ”
Luke’s hand reached for mine and held it. “What happened?”
“My mom managed to force the door open against the pressure. She pulled me onto this makeshift raft. It was a door or something, I don’t even know. But then she got swept away. I was alone, floating, until this man in a boat appeared and pulled me out.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until Luke handed me a Kleenex. “Anna… I’m so sorry.”
His eyes were full of so much compassion that it made my throat ache.
He didn’t look away, didn’t rush to fill the silence; he just held my hand.
And for a second, I wanted to tell him everything.
About the panic that grips me when I even think about leaving New Orleans.
About how every time I pack a bag, I feel like the water’s rising again, and I can’t breathe.
About how terrified I am that someday he’ll finally see how broken I really am.
Luke’s eyes stayed locked on mine. For the first time, I felt like I could share my secrets with someone. I might have told Luke everything, right then and there, if the piercing wail of a siren hadn’t cut through the air.