Page 10 of Revenge Reads Better

Established 1817

Home of Alder Lake

Population 6,182

Carved from dark cedar with white painted lettering, the sign looks exactly as I remembered it. The silhouette of Alder Lake still stretches beneath the town’s name, framed by a row of pine trees as if nothing terrible had ever happened here. As if I didn’t run away from this godforsaken place for a reason.

Fuck my life. What am I doing?

I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the thumping in my head. But it’s no use. The migraine I’ve had for… well, let’s face it, the past nine months seems to have gotten worse with every mile that brought me closer to Fairhope.

Maybe I should take this as a warning sign. Perhaps my body’s trying to tell me just how wrong it is for me to be here. Maybe it’s screaming at me to turn back while I still can. And what do they always say when your body starts trying to tell you something? Listen to it, right? Then how come I’m not turning this car around?

Because I’ve never been a coward, that’s why. Nor have I ever thought of myself as one. But returning to Fairhope… let’s just say it’s not for the faint of heart, so excuse me if I’m having second thoughts.

“Nope. Not doing this,” I mutter to no one but myself, turning the key in the ignition, only to switch it off the second the engine purrs to life.

I’m not sure how many times I repeat the process, but I’m pretty sure I’m slowly killing the car’s battery if I keep playing this game of chicken with it. Which would suck, because then I’d have to explain to the rental company why their car died in the middle of a deserted road in Maine. That’s a fun conversation just waiting to happen.

“ARGH!” I yell, slapping the steering wheel a couple of times before dropping my forehead onto it.

I let my eyelids fall shut and allow myself to just be for a minute while mentally listing all the pros and cons of my decision to come here. Though let’s face it, there’s only one entry worth a damn on that list.

Cons: It’s Fairhope. No explanation needed beyond that.

Pros: I’ll finally be able to write again. Or at least that’s the goal.

As much as I hate the cons side, the pros aren’t any better.

Unable to write for the better part of the year has been torture. It has been physically and mentally debilitating. Not only has it messed with my confidence, but also my entire sense of self.

Without my writing, who am I, really?

What do I have going on in my life that isn’t connected to my work?

Aside from the few friends I have in this business, I don’t have anyone close to me.

No boyfriend.

No family.

No pets.

Hell, I don’t even have a plant in my house. That’s how small I’ve let my world become.

So what if the words don’t come back? What will I do then?

Easy. I’ll probably just fling myself off the tallest bridge I can find.

Yes, I’m being overly dramatic, but it genuinely feels like a life-or-death situation.

Perhaps if Crashing Echoes had flopped, I could convince myself I’d lost my touch. That I no longer had it in me to write another book. But it didn’t flop. It’s been on the market for less than a month, and I’ve already hit every bestseller list there is.

My readers can’t stop gushing online about how much they loved the book, especially the ending they never saw coming. Their feedback has been as humbling as it has been terrifying, because now I feel like I’ve set the bar too high.

What if I never manage to do that again? And what about my readers? Am I really going to let them down without at least trying something? Anything to get my mojo back?

I just wish that anything didn’t involve coming back here.