Page 103 of The Write Track
“What’s the plan, though?” Nathan asked. “I mean, say I can get my father to help. How are we going to bring Preston down?”
“Just talk to your father,” Bree said. “We’ll talk to the other authors. Once we get everybody in place, we’ll go from there.”
NATHAN SAID I COULD BE CLOSEwhen he called his father, but I opted to give him privacy. He took his call out back, near the lake, and I used the opportunity to call my mother.
No matter how old I was, when things went sideways, I wanted my mother.
She was smiling when she answered the call. A frown appeared almost instantaneously. “What happened? Did Nathan do something? That can’t be right. He’s one of the good ones.”
How she could know that when they’d only spent a few minutes talking to one another over video chats was beyond me.
I opened my mouth to tell her—everything—and then burst into tears. It took me a full ten minutes to get the story out. When I was finished, the fire in her eyes gave me pause.
“I’ve always hated that little goat scrotum,” she said, shaking her head. “I cannot believe he’s gone to these lengths. What is wrong with him?”
“So many things I don’t think we can name them all.” I swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “I want to make him pay.”
“Well, it’s about time.” She smiled. “I’ll be on the next plane.”
My heart skipped five beats. “What?”
Her smile was enigmatic. “I have a card to play in this game.”
I was bewildered. “What card?”
“It’s better to talk about it in person. Give me the address of the campground. I’ll be there as early as I can tomorrow morning, and we’ll finish this.”
I had questions—oh, so many questions—but I trusted my mother above all else. “Okay. I really do need you.”
“Of course you do. Every girl needs their mother at some point.”
“I’m an adult. Aren’t I supposed to be handling these things on my own?”
She sounded exasperated. “Belladonna, that’s always been your problem. You feel the need to do things on your own so as not to burden people. It’s time you realize that people want to help. Let everybody help you.”
I made a sniffling noise and nodded.
“You have to trust the right people, Bella,” she insisted. “You’re finally on your way. Let me help you.”
“Okay.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t wait to see you.”
Her smile stretched the whole width of the screen. “Right back at you, daughter of mine.”
27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Iwas careful not to allow myself to be separated from the group. That was our plan, even when I called my father to ask for his help and his response was that he was coming to Savannah. That was it. He didn’t say anything else. He just asked where the campground was and said he would be there as soon as he could.
When he actually arrived the following day, I was in the hammocks with Brody. The women were over at the table trying to pretend they weren’t spying on the other authors. Our last reader weekend started the following day, which meant that whatever plan Preston planned to launch would be happening soon. Thinking about it made me antsy. When my father showed up—in simple khakis and a polo shirt instead of his normal suit—my anxiety rocketed up a notch.
“You came.” It was all I could think to say.
He gave me an impatient look. “I said I would.”
“I know but…” I looked over at Brody, who was clearly uncomfortable. We’d been talking what would happen when the retreat was over, how I planned to see Bella even though we would no longer be sharing a roof. I liked talking aboutthose things. The appearance of my father threw all of that into turmoil.
Remembering my manners, I hopped to my feet and extended my hand. “Dad.”
