wasn’t the
Mr
. that set her off, either. Portland. Bookstore. Come in for a signing.
Shit
. Another one. People actually wanted her to come in for actual signings.
That so couldn’t happen. Shay would freak out before she even made it out the damn door.
She groaned and dropped down to thump her head on the desk. Hard. Several times.
“Shay? What’s that noise?”
“I’m hitting my head on the desk.”
“Ah … you just got out of the hospital after you hit your head in a car crash. Should you be banging your head?” Darcy asked worriedly. “I mean, you were in a coma.”
“I came out of the coma, too, thanks.” A headachestarted to bloom, but she was pretty sure it was stress related.
“Well, still, that’s not a good thing to do. You know, you’re worrying about this too much,” Darcy said. “I mean, you deal with weird shit all the time. Just get to work on the book and this will work out. I’ll handle the email and everything, and maybe I can figure out what’s going on for you. You’d feel better if you weren’t messing with it anyway.”
“No.” Shay scowled. “I’d feel better if none of this was happening.”
But
that
wasn’t possible, so the next best alternative was to find answers—do something.
So far, all she’d done was send out complaints, and she hadn’t gotten one
damn
answer. That was stopping.
Today
.
There was one person who had some sort of answer. Elliot Winter.
He would have met the Shane imposter.
He was a nut for those books. It had always given Shay a dull rush of pride, even as it made her nervous and uncomfortable. He liked her books.
Elliot
liked
her
books, damn it.
He’d know something about the person who’d signed them—so why in the hell was she sitting here
chatting
instead of getting on the road?
“I need to go, Darcy.”
“Hey, wait!”
“I can’t.” Shutting down her desktop, Shay eased back from the computer and turned around. “I need to go to Earth’s End. So far, I’m not having any luck shutting things down on this end and I’m going to go crazy if I don’t find some sort of answers. Anna must be out of town or something and
she
isn’t answering me—nobody will be at the publisher’s until Monday. I’ve got to talk to somebody. So Elliot is it.”
“Elliot?” Darcy asked warily.
Grimly, Shay smiled. “Yeah. That guy I used to date. This faker signed books at his store. He’ll know something, or have remembered something about the imposter. That’s just Elliot for you. He remembers things. I’m going into town to pick his brain.”
“You’re driving down there?”
“Too cold to walk,” Shay pointed out, glancing outside. The sun was up. It would be up until around three or so and then it would set—the days were short and cold, very cold. She didn’t have to go outside to know that. It was January, for crying out loud. “Plus, it’s thirty minutes away.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you walk, silly,” Darcy said, laughing. “But you shouldn’t go
now
. You need to be resting and taking it easy.”
“I’ve done enough of that.” If she stayed here, she was just going to brood, and steam, and brood some more. At least if she went to Elliot’s, she’d feel like she was
doing
something. “I’ll talk to you later, Darcy.”
“But—”
Dropping the phone into the cradle, Shay stared outside at her truck.
She hadn’t driven since the accident.
She’d been in her car—a beautiful Dodge Charger. Or it had been beautiful. It now resembled a tin can. Swallowing, she rubbed a hand over her chest, vaguely recalling the way it had felt right before she’d passed out. Pain. Lots of it.
For a minute, the fear almost kept her trapped.
But then she threw it off. “What are you going to do … never drive again?” she muttered.
Like
that
was an option.
Some days the nightmares were so bad, she had to leave the house just to escape them. She couldn’t runfast enough to get away from herself. She
Mr
. that set her off, either. Portland. Bookstore. Come in for a signing.
Shit
. Another one. People actually wanted her to come in for actual signings.
That so couldn’t happen. Shay would freak out before she even made it out the damn door.
She groaned and dropped down to thump her head on the desk. Hard. Several times.
“Shay? What’s that noise?”
“I’m hitting my head on the desk.”
“Ah … you just got out of the hospital after you hit your head in a car crash. Should you be banging your head?” Darcy asked worriedly. “I mean, you were in a coma.”
“I came out of the coma, too, thanks.” A headachestarted to bloom, but she was pretty sure it was stress related.
“Well, still, that’s not a good thing to do. You know, you’re worrying about this too much,” Darcy said. “I mean, you deal with weird shit all the time. Just get to work on the book and this will work out. I’ll handle the email and everything, and maybe I can figure out what’s going on for you. You’d feel better if you weren’t messing with it anyway.”
“No.” Shay scowled. “I’d feel better if none of this was happening.”
But
that
wasn’t possible, so the next best alternative was to find answers—do something.
So far, all she’d done was send out complaints, and she hadn’t gotten one
damn
answer. That was stopping.
Today
.
There was one person who had some sort of answer. Elliot Winter.
He would have met the Shane imposter.
He was a nut for those books. It had always given Shay a dull rush of pride, even as it made her nervous and uncomfortable. He liked her books.
Elliot
liked
her
books, damn it.
He’d know something about the person who’d signed them—so why in the hell was she sitting here
chatting
instead of getting on the road?
“I need to go, Darcy.”
“Hey, wait!”
“I can’t.” Shutting down her desktop, Shay eased back from the computer and turned around. “I need to go to Earth’s End. So far, I’m not having any luck shutting things down on this end and I’m going to go crazy if I don’t find some sort of answers. Anna must be out of town or something and
she
isn’t answering me—nobody will be at the publisher’s until Monday. I’ve got to talk to somebody. So Elliot is it.”
“Elliot?” Darcy asked warily.
Grimly, Shay smiled. “Yeah. That guy I used to date. This faker signed books at his store. He’ll know something, or have remembered something about the imposter. That’s just Elliot for you. He remembers things. I’m going into town to pick his brain.”
“You’re driving down there?”
“Too cold to walk,” Shay pointed out, glancing outside. The sun was up. It would be up until around three or so and then it would set—the days were short and cold, very cold. She didn’t have to go outside to know that. It was January, for crying out loud. “Plus, it’s thirty minutes away.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you walk, silly,” Darcy said, laughing. “But you shouldn’t go
now
. You need to be resting and taking it easy.”
“I’ve done enough of that.” If she stayed here, she was just going to brood, and steam, and brood some more. At least if she went to Elliot’s, she’d feel like she was
doing
something. “I’ll talk to you later, Darcy.”
“But—”
Dropping the phone into the cradle, Shay stared outside at her truck.
She hadn’t driven since the accident.
She’d been in her car—a beautiful Dodge Charger. Or it had been beautiful. It now resembled a tin can. Swallowing, she rubbed a hand over her chest, vaguely recalling the way it had felt right before she’d passed out. Pain. Lots of it.
For a minute, the fear almost kept her trapped.
But then she threw it off. “What are you going to do … never drive again?” she muttered.
Like
that
was an option.
Some days the nightmares were so bad, she had to leave the house just to escape them. She couldn’t runfast enough to get away from herself. She
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