2024: The Thriller of the Year! by Tim Heath

Author:Tim Heath [Heath, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fifteen

February arrived with a fresh cold snap, temperatures expected to hit minus numbers, the chance of snow widespread, with several areas, mostly more northern, having severe weather warnings in place.

Harry got out of bed, which felt cold, lonely. He missed Debbie, another human being, another warm body to press against. That said, Debbie used to have the coldest feet in the morning. One brush of her foot against his leg would cause him to recoil.

It had been a month since she had left him, and in so many ways, an awful lot had happened during that time. Yet he was still alone, something he had no intention of doing anything about. There were no ships on the horizon, none on the radar. It was enough for him to keep getting out of bed each day, keep pushing through. To keep going, knowing that things had spiralled out of control so quickly, so messily.

So pointlessly.

Harry knew his role in things. Though he refused to believe it was all his fault.

He’d been rash. Using the money for the trip had been a stupid mistake.

Would he have changed that now? Absolutely. Without question. But she’d been so quick to draw her dagger, to slash, cutting freely.

He didn’t hate her.

He loathed them all, her father included, but hate? No, he was sure he didn’t hate her. Right now, he would settle for not loving her. He had nearly convinced himself that this was true.

But someone else? Could he move so swiftly into something as she had? Was Debbie really dating? Was she even serious about the man Harry had spotted her with?

Did it even matter?

He knew it did.

Knew it mattered more when he was still single. Knew she would have it far easier in moving on, finding someone else, than he would.

What chances did he have?

And so his thoughts went. New month, yet same old doubts as he came around, waking up from his peaceful sleep, discovering again the new realities.

Then his thoughts caught up fully.

The struggling writer, with no prospects, wasn’t what defined him any more, much as Debbie McLoughlin, or more to the point, Mr McLoughlin, would like to make him believe it always would.

He wasn’t struggling.

He was selling.

Selling liked he’d never sold books before in his life. He’d made more money in January than he had made across the last four years combined, his job at the bagel shop and any profits from his books. There were few months in profit.

If he took the losses into account, he had been well down.

Suddenly that didn’t seem to matter any more. All that history, all that waste. Now it looked completely different.

Is that what they called experience? Learning from your mistakes. Not being afraid to fail, because one of these days you would succeed.

He was succeeding all right, but his one niggle was that he wasn’t doing anything to make this happen.

It was doing it itself, or so it seemed. Someone, somewhere, had become his biggest fan. They were literally driving thousands to him.

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