Fearless, Abby Brooks [leveled readers .txt] 📗

tightening the edges of her voice. “You know how hard it is to write when there’s something in the way…”

I opened my mouth to respond, because I had to say something. Anything. Surely, I’d find the one, right thing that would unlock her fear so she could write again. I’d never read anything so fresh, so inspired…

“Drew didn’t tell me what he’d done until the book was published. He dropped it in my lap, smirking, then told me to get out of the apartment because he hadn’t been in love with me for years. That he’d stayed because he thought I might be useful someday. I moved in with Amelia until I lost my job and now I’m here. So yes, I’ve been private and hesitant because if I was so wrong about him…”

Her meaning smacked me in the forehead and I sighed. “Then you could be that wrong about me.”

“I could be that wrong about anyone.” Evie licked her lips and met my eyes. “But I don’t think I’m wrong about you. I think you’re a good man, Alex Prescott, and I think you’re good for me, and I think I’d love a chance to find out if I’m right, if it won’t make things too complicated.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Evie

Alex pulled me off the couch and into his arms. His lips found mine and his tongue swept into my mouth, rendering me speechless. I whimpered, gripping his back, and forgetting all the worries that had spiraled through my head for months.

Complicated? This wasn’t complicated.

Kissing Alex was the easiest thing I’d ever done.

“Do you know how hard it’s been not to kiss you every day?” His teeth grazed my bottom lip. “You’re all I ever think about.”

“Maybe that’s why you can’t write.” I smirked, then leaned in for another kiss. Heat built between us. Hands explored. Tongues tasted. His scent surrounded me and my nipples pebbled; my lower belly tightened and throbbed.

Alex stepped back, tearing his succulent lips from mine, took my hands, and led me back to the couch. “I’m gonna get serious for a second. I didn’t read enough of your book to know for sure, but what I did read is spectacular. Evie, if you wrote that, then you’ve got something special.”

The topic was a bucket of cold water to the face. The heat from our kiss died, leaving a familiar emptiness in its wake. “I don’t have it anymore. Drew took it from me.”

“He took that from you.” Alex gestured toward the book. “That’s it. He’ll never publish anything like that ever again. That’s not true for you.”

My hands twisted in my lap, my thumbs rubbing over knuckles. I watched them move, then finally risked a glance at the man beside me. “It feels true for me. I have never felt so betrayed as I did when he told me what he’d done. That dedication? He looked downright excited to point out the lowercase initials. I have no idea how I didn’t see he didn’t want to be with me.” I hung my head. “Every time I think about writing, I remember his smirking face…”

A face that had always looked at me with love…or so I thought. I’d never felt so foolish as I did when the guy I assumed I would marry told me he’d been planning the theft from the second I told him the idea for the story. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hang in there long enough for you to finish the damn thing. You are so exhausting. The words hit me like poisoned arrows, leeching my soul of all the things that brought me joy.

Alex lifted my chin with a finger. “Then we’ll rewrite that story. When you think about writing, I want you to think about me. Us. This. You’re gonna write the best revenge story and this Drew Stephens guy will rue the day he took advantage of you.”

The day flew by in a whirlwind of words, edits, walks, and Alex. I was living a dream—a life dedicated to books, sharing it with someone who loved stories as much as I did. Darkness settled on Wildrose Landing and after dinner at Overton’s, we called it a day. I dashed my keys on the end table next to my door and kicked off my shoes, grinning as the grippy paws on my socks stuck to the floor.

Who brought a woman grippy socks?

For that matter, who shoved grippy socks into a pair of shoes, on the off-chance Alex would notice? I laughed my way upstairs and into my bedroom. Seconds after my light flicked on, a text came in.

Alex: I see you.

I glanced to the window and found the curtains closed.

Me: Are you being deep here? Like you ‘see’ me?

Alex: I mean, I do. I see you. But I’m being literal. Saw your bedroom light come on.

Me: Wow. Do you just sit around, staring at my bedroom, hoping for a glimpse?

Alex: Yes! Guilty. But, don’t judge. You’d stare at your window every night too…if you’d seen your boob like me. (And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll finally see them both.)

He’d seen my boob? My hand flew to cover the girls as I mentally replayed the day I’d stumbled downstairs, hungover and certain I was about to see a ghost. I had been so right to sneak a glimpse of his ass in return. With a shake of the head, I tapped out a reply.

Me: I see them every day.

Alex: Sure. Gloat about it. You don’t sound like an asshole at all.

Me: Says the man who broke into my house for months. How would you feel if I did this…

Slowly, dramatically, I slipped a hand through the curtains and created a sliver of space between the fabric.

Alex: You tease!

Me: You know you like it.

Alex: More than you know. Show me more.

Feeling exposed, I pulled back the curtains. Directly across from me, I saw Alex standing in the window, sweats on, phone in hand. He glanced up, saw me, and