Because there I was again, lonely and doubting myself. Maybe there really is something wrong with me. Maybe I really am too weird, too dark, too lost in my own head for someone to handle.

“You’ve been going nonstop,” Karina goes on. “Normally, I’ll keep pushing you because I know you can handle it. But maybe it’s time to take a break. Get out of the spotlight for a while and catch your breath. You haven’t gotten very far with the next book in this series, have you?”

I shake my head. “Not really,” I say, trying not to cringe. I have half of the first chapter written and keep fizzling out the second I sit down to write. I’ve been super busy the last month too, with book signings, interviews, and collaborating with the show runners for next season. “I haven’t had much time.”

“Exactly, and I just had a conference call with your agent and editor this morning. If you can get the first draft done a month ahead of schedule, we’ll be able to line up a three-week-long tour in Europe. For you and Charles. He’s in if you’re in, and we can schedule it perfectly with his break between filming.”

My face lights up. Charles Baldwin is the mega movie star who plays Marcus, the vampire lead in my book-turned-TV series. He’s one of Hollywood’s biggest heartthrobs, has a reputation of being a suave playboy, just crossed thirty-million Instagram followers, and was named the Sexiest Man Alive last year.

He’s also my on-again, off-again boyfriend, but the whole thing was set up by Karina, who’s his publicist too. Our relationship sparked interest in the two of us—and Nightfall—perfectly timed when the show was announced to the world. We “break up” often, needing to uphold Charles’s playboy reputation and keep his female fans pining over him. Being seen with him made me recognizable, something I wasn’t quite used to before. As an author, my name was my claim to fame, not my face. But now I’m photographed, pictures slapped all over TMZ and social media, tagged as “Charles’s ex” like the only way to identify me is by who I used to “belong to.”

It’s strange, faking a relationship with someone. And by faking, I mean literally faking every single romantic part of said relationship. Because Charles is gay, and it breaks my heart that he’s been advised to keep his sexuality hushed out of fear it will hurt his career. I’ve encouraged him to come out, but he’s not ready, and I respect that. He’s one of my very best friends now, and our tight-knit bond of platonic friendship is what sells our fake relationship so well.

Touring Europe with Charles will be so fucking fun. I can probably convince Farisha to sneak away for a week too. She’s a sucker for anything European.

“Can we make it so we have at least two days at Disneyland Paris?” I ask, hiking my brows up.

Karina rolls her eyes. “Charles asked for the same thing.”

“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air. “I knew I could count on him.”

Karina laughs. “Fine. You can get a few days in Paris to yourselves. But only if you get this book done ahead of time.”

“I’ll get it,” I say as if it’s no big deal at all. Because, you know, there’s no pressure in not only writing the highly-anticipated eighth book in a popular series but getting it done a month before I originally planned on finishing. “I’ll take a staycation somewhere quiet, lock myself in a room and write nonstop.”

“Where are you going to go?” Karina asks. “Bali again?”

I think about it for a few seconds but shake my head. I’ve been struggling a bit with getting this book started, and I know what I need to do: go back to the place that inspired this book, back to the real town my fictional one is based on. I’ll walk through the woods and will write by the lake. If any place is going to inspire me, it’s where it all started. “No, not Bali.” I look up at Karina. “I’m going back to Silver Ridge.”

Chapter Four

Sam

“You’re overthinking it.” I cast my line into the water and let my eyes fall shut, face bathed in the warmth from the sun. The boat gently rocks back and forth, and it would easily lull me to sleep if I were to sit down. Finishing a string of twelve-hour shifts does that to me.

“That means shit coming from someone like you,” Jacob deadpans. “You don’t think. At all. You’ll fuck anything in a skirt.”

“I have standards,” I toss back, trying to act offended.

Mason lets out a snort of laughter and slowly reels in his line.

“You’re worse.” Jacob sets his fishing pole down and turns to mess with the boat’s radio, which isn’t picking up any signal this far out on the lake. Country music crackles through, and the fucker leaves it.

“If getting some on the regular is worse, I’ll take it.” Mason reaches for his beer. “And Sam’s right. You’re overthinking it. Go out with her. It’s just one date that’ll lead to one night, well, if you can be the least bit competent for a few hours. And lord knows you need to get laid. I’ve been home for all of five hours and am already sick for your crab-ass attitude.”

“I don’t do one-night stands,” Jacob immediately counters, eyeing both me and Mason. “Unlike you two.”

Mason looks at me, rolling his eyes. “I’m not entirely sure he even does people anymore at this point,” he whisper-talks. “Maybe there’s a reason he went into veterinary medicine. All those late-night calls to horse farms…”

“Fuck you, man.” Jacob throws a handful of bait at the back of Mason’s head and I laugh, always enjoying passively egging my younger brothers on like this. But the truth is we’re all so fucking glad to be together again because it doesn’t happen very often. Jacob stayed in Silver Ridge and is the small town’s only vet, and Mason and I left the first chances we got. But this place will always be home for all of us, and we’ve all been looking forward to this weekend more than any of us want to admit.

Rory, our baby sister, is coming home this weekend as well, along with her husband and their newborn son, Adam. I haven’t seen my nephew since the week he was born, and I need to make sure Rory’s husband is still treating her well. I take my role as older brother seriously, as I always have, and will cut throats and throw punches without a second thought when it comes to my sister.

“If you don’t want to go out with Annie, then don’t,” I say with a yawn. My line bobs down and I wait a beat, secretly hoping I didn’t catch anything. Fishing isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but we grew up doing this. I like being out on the lake with my brothers more than I actually like trying to catch a fish, and we put back most of what we catch anyway.

Dad started taking me out here on a rickety-ass boat when I was the only Harris kid yet to be born. Mom hated it, and I still remember being three years old and Mom putting blow-up water wings on my arms along with a multi-colored life vest. I couldn’t put my arms down—just like that kid from A Christmas Story—but in the opposite season.

Dad’s not out here with us today, though; he’s anxiously waiting for Adam to arrive at the house. There’s no doubt both Mom and Dad will point out how they only have one grandchild, and it’s the youngest of the bunch who settled down, got married, and popped out a kid first.