The End (Stained Duet Book 2) by Charlotte E Hart

Author:Charlotte E Hart [Hart, Charlotte E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Alana

I don’t know when Priest put his phone number in my phone, or why, and if I hadn’t been scrolling to find my publisher because of my emails, I suppose I never would have found it, but I did. Then I couldn’t help but phone him, ask him to check in on Blaine, make sure he wasn’t about to do something horrendously stupid. He’d seemed so odd on the drive back to mine. His mood changed from gentlemanly and quietly reserved, to sullen and depressed. I’m not even sure how I felt it, but I did, and that caused enough worry for me to text him hoping he’d respond. He didn’t. It caused, still is causing, an unease I can’t put my finger on. I’m worried, anxious to hear he’s okay. Love, I suppose, continues regardless of the information I now have. He might have killed her, but he’s a killer I have feelings for, irrespective of the rights and wrongs.

That was over two hours ago, and the time keeps slipping by as I attempt to busy myself with notifications and emails I’ve no interest in, all the time trying to work out what Blaine’s been up to with my emails. I’m backtracking constantly, trying to follow the path of his replies to people, follow the thread to make my responses sound sensible. It’s made me smile the entire time, the thought of him ensuring my career doesn’t fail because of my ‘holiday’ somehow comforting to me, as much as it’s surprising. I thought he’d let this slide. See it as ineffective and intolerable. Ignore it all. He hasn’t. He’s been completely on top of it. Kept it flowing without my help. When and how, I’m not sure, but he’s taken control, allowing me to not think about anything other than him and writing. Every day he’s ensured fluidity, interspersing professional emails with ones that answer questions and add a hint of joviality. I didn’t realise, didn’t think he’d be so thoughtful. And he’s fucking brilliant at it, using my tone, but using it more effectively than I could ever employ. It’s like he has been me, pretended. The only thing he hasn’t been able to do for me is send the actual words to the people who want them. I snort, amused with the fact that he’s even given his opinion on my latest covers, telling the designer to change the graphics. He’s right to have done so as well. He’s done just what I would have wanted.

So now I’m just answering and renewing what needs to happen, finding my path back into this again. Not that I want to. It was easier with him doing it, less worrying. Still, it needs doing after my sabbatical into finding myself under his hands. A few make me smile, readers telling me of how they enjoyed something I’ve written, glowing feedback from edits in on one of my latest works, but there’s nothing from Bree, and she’s the one thing I’ve been searching for.

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