Page 79 of Not a Strong Enough Word

“Holy shit,” she breathes out. She sounds relieved. “Are you okay?”

Where was this concern years ago when I was going through the absolute hardest part of my life alone? If I had any energy left after the day I’ve had, I’d shout all of the creative obscenities I’ve been saving up over the years. But right now, the best I can muster is curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She launches into her questions at about a mile a minute. “I saw that post and all the comments. You’re publishing again? Was this some kind of marketing ploy? I’m guessing no because it’s not like you. Were you supposed to use your name? Who outed you? Did Ryan find you?”

“Whoa,” I interrupt her. “Slow down. Where is this coming from?”

Taking a deep breath, she starts again, calmer this time. “That post of you and Ryan at that coffee shop. It’s all over social media. But it felt weird, you know? I took that picture. I remember going with you guys and taking a bunch for you to use and you posted that one. So, I guessed something wasn’t right, and I wanted to…” She trails off.

“You wanted to what, Mandy? Get a front-row seat to the show?” Even I can hear the bitterness in my voice, but I decide to lean into it. If everyone who has ever wronged me wants a piece of me today, I guess they can each have a small one until there’s nothing left.

“No.” She sounds frustrated. “Listen, you’re not going to believe me, and that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to. But after the last time we talked, I thought a lot about our conversation. It haunted me, you know? I was wrong. Ryan called looking for you, and that was when I realized you’d left. I wanted to apologize but…I didn’t know if you would have answered.”

“I wouldn’t have. I really needed you, and you acted like a bitch.” I hadn’t meant to say it quite so bluntly, but no matter what I had said, the sentiment would have been the same.

“Yes,” she admits, though it sounds like it pains her. “I did. I’m sorry. I think…” She trails off, then makes a frustrated noise. “I was so jealous of you. There I was, after two years with a book on submission, signing with a small press. And you…well, you know what you had. It never even crossed my mind that you weren’t happy. How could you not have been?”

“It would seem a lot of people had that exact same question,” I say drily.

“Right. But you get so scared when you sign that first deal, you know? It all feels so tenuous, like it could fall apart at any minute. You get people telling you to behave, watch what you say and who you’re with—”

I let out a low growl and start walking again. Something about standing still and rehashing old shit feels unbearable. “I don’t really need to hear all over again about how my life was perfect and I had no reason to be upset, Mandy. I’ve spent years unlearning all of that.”

“I know,” she interrupts. “I know. That’s why I finally called you. You were never the problem. The industry is the problem. JMP was the problem. I…” She coughs. “I was the problem. And I get it if you never want to talk to me again. But please believe me when I say the only reason I called was to see if you’re okay.”

A beat of silence passes while I walk and think of what to say. When I come up to my building, I open the front door and get into the elevator. “I was, eventually. And now I’m not. But…the darkness doesn’t get to take over anymore, you know? I will be okay again.”

That’s all I can give her. As lonely as I’ve been and as much as I want my friends back, the hurt she caused is still very real. It’s going to take time for her to earn my trust again.

When the elevator doors open on my floor, I peer down the hallway. A figure is sitting across from my door, silhouetted by the afternoon light coming in from the window at the end of the corridor. He’s leaning his head against the wall and resting his arms against his legs, which are bent at the knee and folded up near his chest. The sunlight glints off his glasses, but as soon as he turns his head to see me, he folds his long limbs under him and jumps up to face me.

“Hey,” I say into the phone. “I have to go.”

“Okay.” Mandy sounds defeated but maybe also a little hopeful. “Can we…talk again sometime?”

I could lie. I could reject her outright and say something hurtful so she can get a taste of her own medicine. But despite what people might think, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I only ever wanted to protect myself.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say as Ryan locks eyes with me from where he stands. “I’ll call you.” I don’t wait for her to say goodbye before I hang up. But it isn’t long before I break eye contact with him and walk up to my door to unlock it.

“I’m kind of peopled-out today,” I tell him as I open my door. He follows me inside, and I sigh as I close the door behind us. Suddenly unbearably tired, it takes a lot of effort to face him, but I do.

He looks haggard. His dark hair is standing up at all angles, which is clearly the work of his worried hands. His glasses are smudged, so he’s probably been rubbing his eyes. His clothes are rumpled, too, which makes me wonder how long he’s been sitting on the cold floor of my apartment hallway.

“I needed to see you.”

I walk past him to toss my keys and purse on a chair. “Why? Figured I flew the coop again?” God, when the fuck did I get so angry? If anyone had asked me even two days ago, I’d have said anger was never my primary emotion—at least it hasn’t been since I was bleeding in a hotel room in New York—but it sure feels like it is now.

Ryan steps closer but doesn’t touch me. I don’t know what would hurt more, having his hands on me or not, so I stand right where I am and decide to let him make the first move.

“Are you going to leave again?” He whispers the words as if speaking them any louder would summon a repeat of the same curse that came upon us last time.

I huff and look to the side, unable to meet his eyes again. “Depends on what you mean by ‘leave.’”

Like a switch has flipped, his long fingers circle around my biceps as if holding on to me could keep me from disappearing before his very eyes. “Scarlett, no—”

“I can’t do it, Ryan.” I also can’t listen to his pleas. If he begs me to keep writing, I might give in. For this man, who has seen the worst of me and loves me both in spite and because of it, I’d do anything.

“Don’t leave me again.” His voice is deep, husky. It’s a command and a prayer, and he’s looking at me like I’m the goddess who could answer both.