Fearless, Abby Brooks [leveled readers .txt] 📗

As if that didn’t hurt enough, he doubled down.

He told me when he hired me, he’d gotten the feeling I might be useful one day, but if I wanted to make myself useful right then, on my knees, he’d consider keeping me around. Pride stinging but dignity intact, I hightailed it out of there and had only looked back long enough to file a complaint with HR.

“Why did he have to go there?” I asked Amelia. “‘I might be useful someday?’ It’s almost exactly what Drew said when he broke up with me…” I clamped my mouth closed.

Drew had said a lot of awful things that day and I’d be better off forgetting them all. My ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve one more ounce of my energy. He’d taken enough from me already.

“Whenever a theme repeats through our lives, it’s something our guides want us to pay attention to.” Amelia threw back a shot, then jotted down the worst things my boss said on a scrap of paper.

Safe. Boring. Bland. Timid. Blow me.

“Okay. Now. Choose one word to overwrite all of that crap. One word that will define Eveline McAllister from this point forward.”

She handed me the pencil with a flourish worthy of life-changing events. I studied those oh-so-taupe words written in her decadent script and imagined my life the way I wished it was. Who did I want to be? How did I want to live? When the answer came to me, I couldn’t scrawl my answer fast enough.

Fearless.

The scratch of the lead across the paper was a battle cry. The extravagant stroke of that final S was my declaration. I added an exclamation point for emphasis. Then another. Then, drunk on power, tequila, and the desire to put my past behind me, I scratched a harsh line under the word.

With a decisive nod, I dropped the pencil onto the table. It clattered and rolled as Amelia leaned in to see what I’d written. A smile bloomed as her sparkling eyes met mine. “I like it. No. I love it. It’s perfect. Who wouldn’t want to be fearless?” She stood and spun in a slow circle in the middle of her living room. Her boho skirt fluttered around her ankles. Her bracelets jangled. Her beachy waves danced down her back.

She was so over the top.

So comfortable in her skin.

So not afraid to be her.

She inspired me to fall in love with myself the way she had—or at least make peace with my flaws. Amelia Brown was the most fearless person I knew, and I would do myself justice by learning to be more like her.

Caught up in her optimism and the swirling burn of courage in my stomach, I bobbed my head in agreement. Fearless! Perfect! Heck friggen yes!! I was even thinking in exclamation points! That had to mean I was on to something! Right? Right!

She pulled me off the ground and poured another shot for both of us. How many was that? Two? Three? Tequila flowed so fast and furious, I’d lost count. With the abandon only found on the line between tipsy and drunk, we clinked our glasses and tossed them back.

“Real change needs energy, Evie.” Amelia scooped the list off the table, dropped it in a bowl, and lit it on fire. She waved a hand through the smoke like she was gathering it into her palm, then released it toward the ceiling. “Watch it burn and know.”

“Know what?” I quirked my head.

She pressed a finger to my lips. “Just know.”

When the paper was smoke and ash—which did feel cathartic—she grabbed the tequila and led me to the window, both of us managing to trip on her skirt.

When did it get so long?

“Let’s not focus on the past right now. Let’s focus on looking forward.” She pointed outside, like my future was on the sidewalk, staring up at us. I didn’t think it was, but peered down, just in case. “Now that you don’t have to sell your soul to Smallington City Paper you can focus on writing an actual book.”

It was everything I could do not to snort. There would be no book. Not from me. Not after what happened with Drew.

“I might be better off to figure out where I’m gonna live first. I know you said I could stay here as long as I wanted, but I’m sure you miss your privacy. And your living room.” The streetlights and passing cars outside the window blurred and swayed. I blinked to refocus my eyes as Amelia handed me the bottle and I took a swig. “I guess I could move into the house my Great Aunt Ruth left me.”

The letter had arrived the day Drew kicked me out of our apartment. I’d been shocked, especially considering I hadn’t seen Ruth since I was two and she dropped a home in my lap right when I needed it most.

“I thought we agreed you’d stay with me.” Amelia threw an arm over my shoulder and the scent of vetiver, her favorite essential oil, slapped me in the face. She said it kept her centered, grounded, and happy. To me, it smelled like dirt and mossy stone. Though, after five years, it also smelled like my best friend, which meant it kept me centered, grounded, and happy, too—and given the rollercoaster my life had been on lately, I’d take all the grounded I could get.

“Sweetie, I can’t live on your couch forever. Besides, we decided I wouldn’t move because the house is far enough away that the commune would be awful.” That didn’t sound right. “Commune? Commu…”

“Compute?” Amelia smiled helpfully.

“Driving would take too long. The back and forth is too big.” We stared at each other for a few ridiculous seconds then burst out laughing.

Amelia hiccupped. Staggered. Then put a hand to her heart as her eyes widened with realization. “Oh my gosh. I understand now. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”

“See what before?” I cupped my hands to the window. My