we’re in love, and we make love. Then he leaves in the mornings and I spend the entire days writing.
He’s good at this. So good, I’m dreading having to leave the day after tomorrow. I suppose I could extend my stay, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. When a person starts to form an addiction, it’s easier to get over that addiction if they quit it cold turkey. That’s what I plan to do with Saint. When I go home, I don’t plan on interacting with him again. Ever.
I’ve gotten most of the book loosely written, anyway, so there’s no need to stay. It’s a shitty first draft, but they usually are. This book has guts, though. A soul. Maybe even a heartbeat. I can feel myself in this book, and it might be the first one I’ve ever written that I’m excited to release.
I write so much when Saint isn’t here, I haven’t even had time to answer Candice’s calls. She’s fine with it, though. We both have days when we don’t want to be interrupted. Those are good days. It means we’re being productive, so it’s actually a positive thing when we don’t answer each other’s calls.
I don’t know if I’m going to tell her about Saint. She’s my best friend, but sometimes even a best friend can’t look past a betrayal that has nothing to do with them. She knows how much I love Michael, and if I could betray Michael like this, she’ll wonder if I would be able to betray her in some equally terrible way.
I don’t think I’ll tell a single soul what I’ve done. I want what happened in this cabin to stay between me and Saint.
He’s supposed to come over this afternoon—after his shift ends. I don’t know if he’ll be spending the night, but I hope he does. We only have two nights left to spend together and I selfishly want him here for both.
I’m cooking for him tonight. I just left the grocery store with all the ingredients I’ll need to bake lasagna.
Michael hates lasagna. Maybe that’s why I’m making it. I tend to dig for all the ways Saint and Michael are different.
I’m a few miles from the turn for the cabin when I pass a gas station. I’ve been wanting a local newspaper and should probably fill up on gas before my drive back to Sacramento.
I go inside the store before getting gas so I can check to see if they even sell newspapers here. I’ve been wanting to read about the incident that occurred the night Saint showed up to my cabin. I thought about adding it to my book. I tend to change a lot of scenes during the rewrite phase, and I’m tempted to rework the scene where Cam and Reya meet.
At this point, I think Saint might actually read this book. I’m sure he’d like it if I included some of what happened between us. Of course, I’d never admit any of the scenes were inspired by true events. That will be mine and Saint’s secret.
I flip through the only choice of newspaper on the stand, but this town is so small, they only put out one paper a week. I can’t find anything about the police chase that ended in a suicide. It’s been two weeks since the guy shot himself near my cabin, and the new paper comes out tomorrow, but it should be in this one.
Maybe they didn’t write about it. Or maybe I skimmed over it.
I take the newspaper to the counter and hand it to the clerk. He’s a bald man who looks to be in his fifties. His belly is so round, it’s resting on the counter.
“What time does the new paper come out tomorrow?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Lennie delivers them, so there’s no telling. Sometimes he gets here when I open up. Sometimes when I close.” He says that like I should know who Lennie is. “Why? You gonna be in the paper or something?”
“No. Just looking for more information on the suicide from two weeks ago.”
The man punches some buttons on the cash register. “That’ll be one dollar and twenty-five cents.” He looks at me and adds, “What suicide?”
I hand him five quarters. “I can’t remember the guy’s name. It was a police chase that ended in a suicide on my road.”
“What road?”
“Hunter Trail.”
The man chuckles. “If there was a police chase and a suicide on Hunter trail, I woulda heard about it.”