Monthly Archives: July 2026

July 16, 2026

Link to Video on Patreon where I talk about this a little, but a version of it is below:

You know how every year, I try to have these organized schedules for writing and producing content and about 2-3 weeks in, I’m like, guys, I overscheduled myself and created unrealistic deadlines —

If you’re interested, there’s more in the video, it’s about 11 minutes long. But the long story short is this:

In the fall of 2023, I moved districts and began teaching French I. It was the first year I’d taught 180 continuously. Before that, I had 15 and 30-day rotations which meant I would write the content in the beginning of the year and spend the rest of the year refining. In the new job, I had to create 180 separate days of instruction. And then the next year, I had to do that for French I AND French II. And this last year, I had to do it for French III. And now — you get my point. I’m the only teacher in the entire district, so I have to create the program from the bottom up.

I don’t think I’ve ever truly adapted my writing and expectations to the massive amounts of creative energy I have to give to my work that I just haven’t before. It’s why I get more tired every year. I keep thinking I should be able to write at the same level as I always have: 2-3 novels a year with 1-2 flash fiction series completed and a few short stories.

It’s just not sustainable. And this is a lesson I have to keep learning mostly because every year I’m adding more and more food to the plate — but my plate (my energy) is the same size — and I wonder why I’m so rundown and tired all the time.

I have so many ideas, so many things I want to create for you guys. I have tons of novel ideas — series that are in progress. Fool Me Twice Book 3 has like 117k that the general readers have never read because I haven’t edited it yet.

For this summer, and at least this coming school year, I need to revise my model of production. And it’ll be a work in progress. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable making concrete promises for more than a few days or weeks at a time. I’ve restarted therapy — and this time it’s with someone my insurance covers, so I won’t have to stop going when I run out of money. Because I can’t keep doing this to myself every few months, or to you guys.

I’m taking the rest of today and tomorrow to just…not work and to think about what we’re going to do. I am going to tell you that I’ll give you something every day or every other day this summer, I just don’t know what yet.

If you subscribed to Patreon for a specific perk this summer and would like a refund at any point over the next six weeks, please don’t hesitate or feel like you can’t ask for your money back. I made promises, and I can’t commit to keeping them so you are more than justified.

July 13, 2026

Update Link: The Archer – Part 10

I’m very much hoping that the universe will not be against me this week.

It’s All Star Week for the MLB which means I don’t get a Phillies game for three days, and then they come back on Thursday — and we’re off again Friday. BUT two of my boys are competing in the Home Run Derby — Harper and Schwarber, AND this year’s All-Star Game is in our home park, so I can’t wait to watch that tonight, then the All-Star Game where six Phillies are going to play, so really Wednesday is the only non baseball day for me 🙂

Thanks to last week, I’m going to be updating Monday-Wednesday this week but I’m still taking off Friday from all projects 🙂

See you tomorrow!

This entry is part 10 of 10 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 58 minutes.

Monday, October 15, 2000

Kelly’s: Stairwell

Elizabeth just wanted to get out, to get away from the conversation, away from the nightmare of her relationship with Lucky — a week ago, she’d been so blissful, so sure that her life was back on track, that she and Lucky were about to start the life that had been destroyed by Helena’s machinations —

She wanted to run down the steps, to fly out the door, and hole up in her grandmother’s house until she could start working with Chloe, but the heft of her suitcase weighed her down so that instead of rushing down the steps, she’d had to slow down enough for Lucky to catch up—

Her body was still moving forward, her feet still intent on completing the mission, but then her shoulder was yanked backwards, twisting her torso to the side, the weight of her suitcase pulling her in the opposite direction—she barely had a chance to process what was happening — only the sight of Lucky’s stricken face, one strap of her tote bag in her hand, the sensation of being weightless, of falling backward—

But then she was caught, a pair of strong arms winding around her middle, stopping her descent — one of her arms were caught around a neck, and she was being lifted in the air again, moving downward again, but this time, controlled. Her heart racing, thudding in her ears, her chest heaving, her throat burning from the rush of breathing, she squeezed her eyes closed, and clung with both arms to the solid force that had plucked her out of the air—

“You’re okay—”

“What the hell—”

“Oh my God—”

“Did he push her—”

The rush of voices came from all sides, at all levels, none of them really breaking through the sound of her own breathing, the swirling of her own thoughts—

“You’re okay—” and this time, she could register those words, the timber of the voice—it was Jason. Where had he come from? What was happening?

“Stay away from her—” she knew that voice, too. Emily?

Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, lifted her head, and realized that Jason was holding her, that they were standing at the bottom of the steps, her fists clutched in the fabric of Jason’s blue t-shirt, his hands at her hips. She locked eyes with him, started by the mixture of fury and worry in the blue reflected back at her. “What—w-hat—” She looked around, blinking, then up the stairs—

Lucky still stood there, a few steps down from where she’d last seen him, still clutching her tote bag by one strap—it had spilled open, makeup and jewelry spread across the steps, her wallet laying two steps below, her sunglasses—

Her suitcase was at the bottom of the steps — it had busted open, the faulty clasp had failed and her clothing was everywhere—jeans and shirts and—

Her face flaming, her cheeks on fire, Elizabeth shoved Jason back and frantically knelt, clutching at every bra or pair of panties she could spy, and Emily appeared at her side, helping until her clothing had been stowed away—

When the suitcase was closed, she laid her palms on top, her hands were still shaking—she turned to look at Lucky.

He still hadn’t moved, his face still pale beneath his blond hair. “I—I’m sorry—” He swallowed hard as Jason climbed a few steps. Lucky said nothing more when Jason grabbed the tote from his hand and started shoving Elizabeth’s things back inside.

“I—I can—” Elizabeth got to her feet, then took in the rest of the scene — everyone who had abandoned their tables and were listening, watching — watching her life on display — even Tammy who stood just behind the counter, her lips curved into half a smirk.

She’d meant to stop Jason, to take on the task of gathering her things, but she was frozen, still kneeling on the floor, her hands on her suitcase. Everyone was watching her. Laughing at her. Judging her.

“Take this—” Jason handed the tote to Emily who looped it over her own shoulder, gripping it tightly, still glaring at Lucky. Then he lowered himself down, squatting next to Elizabeth, still frozen, gripping her suitcase. “I’ll take that out to the car,” he told her gently. “It looks broken.”

“I—” She looked at him, then back at the dull brown case. It had come with her from Colorado. Her father had given it to her so that she could pack for the Johnsons. The house will still be there, Lizzie. You can get more later if you want. But she’d only ever had this one suitcase, and had fled the state with this, her purse, and a nasty attitude. Selfish, obsessed, brat.

“Come on, Liz.” Emily reached out her hand, and Elizabeth took it, letting her friend pull her up to her feet. Jason picked up the suitcase, holding it flat and horizontal from the bottom. “Are you—did you bring a car or—”

“I—I came on the bus,” Elizabeth managed. Everything was still racing, she couldn’t quite make it slow down, couldn’t find a thread to hold on to.

“Okay, I brought mine. Let’s go.” She threw another look at Lucky, and Elizabeth followed her gaze. Her boyfriend came come down a few more steps.

“Elizabeth, wait—”

“Back off. Right now,” Emily bit off. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but you could have killed her. And the only reason you’re still standing right now is there are too many witnesses.” She turned away from him, her oldest friend, with a flick of her hair. “Let’s get out of here, Liz.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said, but she still didn’t move. Felt glued to the ground—then Emily wrapped her hand around Elizabeth’s bicep, gently tugged and it was enough to get her moving.

Kelly’s: Parking Lot

Emily’s heart was still pounding after she slammed the passenger door closed, and turned to her brother waiting at the trunk, Elizabeth’s broken suitcase in his hands. With Elizabeth in the car, his expression had shifted — only slightly, the anger was still visible, but the worry had vanished.

“You can’t kill him,” Emily said, shoving her key in the lock of the trunk, and throwing it open. “It was an accident. And you know, witnesses.”

Jason set the suitcase inside, carefully — taking a good look at the clasp that had busted when it had hit the ground during the fall, then straightened to look at his sister. “I don’t care—”

“He didn’t push her. He didn’t want her to fall. And I’m saying it to myself as much as I’m saying it to you,” she said when he scowled. “He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have grabbed her. He never—” She paused, swallowed hard. “He used to be so careful with her. I—” The adrenaline had faded, and it was her hands shaking now. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “He didn’t mean to hurt her—”

“And if we hadn’t been there, she’d have hit the ground the way the suitcase did,” Jason interrupted, and she looked at him. “He was angry and he grabbed her without thinking about her safety. That’s the beginning and the end, Emily.”

“I know. I know.” She exhaled slowly, wrung out her hands. “I need a minute. I did okay in there because I was going on impulse, and now it’s over, and my brain is screaming. I’m just trying to get this out, to stop freaking out in my head, because she doesn’t need me to do that. She needs me to keep it together, like you did, because I know your first instinct was to kill—not literally—never mind.” She scrubbed both hands down her face. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I know he’s your friend, too, Emily. But this is what you were worried about on Saturday, wasn’t it? Being both their friends, not choosing.” Jason closed the trunk. “She needs someone who is her friend right now. If you can’t do that, then you need to take her home, tell Audrey what happened, and let Audrey be the person who puts her first.”

“You could—”

“I’m too angry,” he interrupted, and he looked back towards the diner, his expression darkening when he saw Lucky in the courtyard. “And he looks like he’s going to come over here. That’s the last thing she needs.” He looked back at his sister. “Make a choice, Emily. Make the right one.”

And then he strode away.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Lucky braced himself as Jason approached, fisting his hands at his side, ready to take whatever punch Jason would throw. He’d let him throw the first fist, Lucky told himself. That was fair game. But—

Instead of shoving his head through the brick wall the way Lucky expected, Jason stopped a few feet from him, his expression as cold as stone. The way he looked when he was in front of Taggert or another cop.

Or someone else he hated.

“You’re going to leave her alone. You’re not going to talk to her unless she makes contact first,” Jason said, and Lucky bristled.

He’d screwed up, but Jason had no right to order him around like that — “Who the hell do you think you are—”

But then Jason took a step forward and Lucky scrambled back, his heart racing. When Jason just stopped, lifted a brow, Lucky’s face flushed, and heat flooded his veins. Shame was everywhere. “Fuck off. You don’t own her and you can’t touch me—”

“If you go near her before she wants you to, I’ll know,” Jason said, his voice remaining even, even calm. “And you’ll regret it.”

“You can’t—”

“I can and I will. Emily’s trying to remind herself that you’re her friend, too. And telling herself you didn’t mean for Elizabeth to fall or get hurt—”

“I didn’t—”

“You were angry and you put your hands on her,” Jason said, and Lucky closed his mouth. “A man who does that can’t be trusted. You put your hands on her and she nearly fell down the stairs. There won’t be a next time, Lucky.”

“Why don’t you let Elizabeth decide what she wants?” Lucky bit out, throwing back the words that had started the fight at Jake’s the other night. “Isn’t that your thing? Isn’t that how you—”

“And if she wants to talk to you, she will. Stay away until and if she does. This is the only warning,” Jason told him — then turned his back and walked away. A few minutes later, Lucky heard the roar of engine, and then the motorcycle leaving the parking lot.

Lucky exhaled slowly, then dragged his hands down his face, through his hair. How the hell had this gone so wrong?

Hardy House: Driveway

Emily switched off the engine, and silence engulfed the car. Neither one of them had spoken since they’d left the diner.

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. “I never thought I’d be that kind of girl,” she said softly.

Emily looked at her, frowned. “What?”

“To freeze. To cower. To run.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily. “To let you and Jason pick me up like a baby—”

“Elizabeth—”

“That’s not who I am—” She squeezed her eyes closed, let her head fall against the headrest. “It’s not who I want to be.”

“I want you to give yourself a break. No, really, Liz. Listen to me. You were leaving, you were walking down the stairs, and the next thing you know, you’re flying through the air — you get to absorb that. You had the wind knocked out of you, and then all those people—” Emily gripped the wheel. “I know he didn’t mean to hurt you, but Jason’s right. He grabbed you. When he was angry. And he didn’t just grab, he pulled. He yanked. This time, it was your bag. It could—what’s he grabbing next time? Your arm? Your hair?”

“Lucky wouldn’t—” Elizabeth stopped looked out the window, at her mother’s front yard, at herself being reflected back. “I guess I can’t really say that anymore, can I? Because I don’t know what he’ll do.”

She fisted her hands in her lap, stared hard at her fingers. “I’m taking the job. With Chloe.”

“Good. I was trying to find you and tell you the same thing. You should. This is an amazing opportunity, and you’d kick yourself if you let it get away.”

Elizabeth looked at her, confused. “But you said—”

“I was wrong. I wasn’t—I mean, I wasn’t. Yes, a job that’s demanding with a lot of travel, it’s time away from Lucky. And he’s not wrong to point that out. But I was wrong for acting like that’s the only thing that matters. I was wrong,” Emily told her. “You should absolutely put yourself first. Is—is that why he was so angry today?”

“He—” Elizabeth licked her lips, looked out the window again. “Yesterday. I tried to tell him. I tried to tell him it was something I liked before…before,” she repeated, her voice a little more quiet. “Fashion and clothes—and that I wanted to get that back. He didn’t know. He didn’t know I used to—” She forced herself to continue. “He doesn’t know anything about me before that night, Em. Because it wasn’t worth knowing. I’m better now,” she said softly. She looked at Emily. “That’s what he told me. That I’m a better person now.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “Before, I didn’t matter. I matter now. Because I was raped. I’m worth knowing. Because I was raped.”

Emily stared at her for a long moment, then pursed her lips, looked out the windshield. “Okay, so I was wrong. I should have let Jason kill him.”

July 10, 2026

Hey guys! Just checking in to let you know that I probably won’t be updating today.

My power has gone out twice this morning — once around 5:30 for three hours, and then again at about 10:40 AM for another half hour (right when I was about to set up for Flash). The city said they expect a full restoration around 4:30 and I don’t know if that means they expect it to be intermittent all day or if I should be good — I’d honestly hate to set up everything, start writing, and then lose power for 30 minutes or longer. Because then I have to wait for power to come back on, my network to be restored, and hope that my writing got saved because Scrivener does a pretty good job of auto saving, but some text might still be lost. It’s just more trouble than it’s worth.

I’m super frustrated by this, but I was supposed to take off Monday — I’ll just work that day instead.

Very sorry — believe me, I’m so annoyed. I was rudely pulled out of a comfortable sleep when my sound machine and AC went off (I need the sound machine because I can’t sleep with the whooshing in my ear, I am a hot mess people) and then I couldn’t even make coffee at home. I had to get dressed and go out, ugh.

July 9, 2026

Update Link: The Archer – Part 9

It’s been one of those weeks here. We’ve had so much rain and humidity, and the shifts in the weather are messing with my sinuses. I felt like absolute crap yesterday, so I decided to switch my off days. I was originally going to take off Mon-Wed, but not updating Tues or Wed made me feel guilty, so I’m only taking Mon off and then going back to the original schedule.

See you tomorrow.

This entry is part 9 of 10 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 55 minutes.

Monday, October 15, 2000

Kelly’s: Kitchen

Tammy fisted a hand at her hip and sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, folded her arms. “I’m sorry, Tammy, but this opportunity is—”

“You know I already lost the college kids — which was the only reason I could cut your hours so you could go work at that record company, and maybe you think dating Luke’s son means you can—”

Elizabeth made a face. “Excuse me? You’re acting like it’s a felony for me to quit a job. A job, by the way, that I’ve been doing longer than you.” When Tammy scowled, Elizabeth arched her brows. “Maybe you think knowing Luke means you can treat the rest of us like crap, but I can and will quit whenever I want. The two weeks is a courtesy to you. Chloe says I can start tomorrow.”

“You know what? I’d hate to hold you back.” Tammy lifted her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll cover your shifts myself. You can be done now. At least now your customers will actually get what they ask for.”

Irritation and impatience was bubbling, and for the first time in years, Elizabeth said what was on the tip of her tongue. “Well, if anyone knows about servicing a client, Tammy, I guess that would be you.” Without waiting to see how the jab hit, she headed for the stairs.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Emily practically crashed into Jason, the momentum of sprinting from the parking lot still carrying her. “I woke up late, and then I hit all the lights—”

Jason steadied his sister with his hands on hers shoulders. “You’re fine, Emily. I just got here.”

“Oh. Good. Good.” She let out an exasperated huff, then dragged a hand through her hair. “I have the worst schedule this semester. I thought giving myself off on Mondays was a good idea, but ugh. I just feel like I’m rushing everywhere, and then Dara Jensen calls and she wants me to come in and go over my statement?”

“Dara? What does the ADA want with you? Didn’t you already do that?” Jason demanded.

Emily wrinkled her nose. “Twice, but mostly to Taggert. Dara says Zander Smith’s lawyer is trying to get the motion dismissed or something. I don’t know. Why?”

Because Zander Smith could do a lot of damage to Sorel, but it wasn’t something Jason was going to discuss with his little sister. “It’s nothing. Let’s just—”

“Oh. Lucky—” Emily waved at something over Jason’s shoulder and he turned to see the other man striding towards them, his hands shoved in his pockets. He glared at Jason as he came closer, the bruise on his face beginning to fade but still visible.

“Can’t talk,” Lucky said, throwing the words to Emily as he passed them, more like a grunt than an articulated response.

Emily pressed her lips together, stared after him, then looked back at Jason. “What was that about?” she demanded. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

“No. And it’s a long story,” he added when Emily opened her mouth.

Kelly’s: Elizabeth’s Room

She closed the top of her suitcase, clicking it shut, then set it on the floor. She looked back at the dresser in question, pursing her lips. Was there enough space in the tote bag she’d brought for the jumble of cosmetics, jewelry, and hygiene products? She really didn’t want to come back.

Elizabeth started to pack her essentials first — a tube of lipstick that had been discontinued, eye makeup she wore almost every day, then her favorite pieces of jewelry — anything she’d spent more than ten bucks to buy.

Just as she was finishing her task, the door behind her swung open. “What the hell are you doing?”

Elizabeth went still, her fingers wrapped around a tube of facial moisturizer, then slowly turned around to find Lucky standing at the threshold, his face flushed, his jaw clenched. “I’m packing,” she said simply. “I’m going to stay at my grandmother’s.”

“Without even talking to me?”

Yes. That had been the dream. A little more distance, a little more time to think about what to do. Elizabeth folded her arms, so tightly that she was nearly hugging herself. “I don’t think we’re ready to have a conversation. Or I’m not.” She paused. “And I don’t have to run my living situation by you.”

Lucky grimaced, dragged a hand through his hair. “Tammy told me you quit and called her a whore. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Well, one of those things happened. I gave two weeks notice, Tammy protested, then basically fired me. And when she decided to criticize the way I did my job, I suggested maybe her history made her a better for a customer service.” She arched a brow. “I never said the word whore.”

“You just implied it,” Lucky retorted with a roll of his eyes. “I expected better from you. Tammy’s been good to my family—”

“I don’t think your mother would agree that your father’s friendship with a prostitute would fit that description, but Tammy’s the one that threw a tantrum about my two week notice.”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to take this job. That it wasn’t good for us—”

“No, you said it wasn’t good for you. It turns out it’s great for me.” Elizabeth looped the straps of her tote over her shoulder. “I told you, Lucky, we’re not having this conversation right now. I’m—” Angry, frustrated. Disappointed in herself. In him. “I’m not doing it.”

She lifted her suitcase and took a few steps towards him — but he wasn’t moving from the threshold. “Lucky, please get out of the way—”

“You were begging me for months to get back together, and now that we are, you’re just running because we had an argument—”

“An argument? I’m sorry, Lucky, you said I was a better person after I got raped. That’s hardly an argument.” She took a deep breath. “I told you, I don’t want to do this right now. I think we both need some space.”

“You’ve had nothing but space for eighteen months,” Lucky bit out. “Now you want more? What happened? I refuse to believe that something stupid I said yesterday means we have to throw everything away—”

Frustrated at the angry tears stinging her eyes, Elizabeth shook her head. “I didn’t say that. I’m not saying that. I’m telling that I need some space, okay?”

“You quit your job, Elizabeth. And Tammy told me you’re taking Chloe’s offer. The one that takes you out of town for months—the one we agreed wasn’t a good idea right now—”

“I tried to explain this to you, Lucky. I tried to make you understand why this matters—”

“Because you read some fashion magazines a million years ago? That means you’d make a good assistant now? You’re barely organized enough to get to work on time, and you live above the diner.” Lucky’s tone gentled. “Look, I—I didn’t handle yesterday well, and maybe I was wrong to dismiss this job thing so quick. I just thought—I thought we’d both agreed we’d spent enough time apart. That we deserved this time together.” He came towards her, his expression kinder, the tone soothing.

Like she was a child.

“I am asking you to move,” Elizabeth said, and he stopped a few feet from her. “I told you — I’m upset, and I’m not trying to do this with you right now.

What was there to know…brat…shallow…obsessed with me…

She exhaled slowly, then met his eyes. “You told me that the person I was before the night Tom Baker raped me wasn’t worth knowing. Which means the only reason I’m worthy of your love now is because of what he did.”

“That’s—” He swallowed hard, put up a hand. “I understand that’s how you took it—”

“It’s what you said. You didn’t want to know me then. And you only came around after the rape because you felt guilty for breaking the date in the first place. I was a project for you,” Elizabeth retorted. “And you liked the idea of saving me, that I practically worshiped you.” She shook her head. “You don’t like me. You don’t care about what’s important to me.”

“That is not true—”

“Get out of my way—” Elizabeth came forward, used her suitcase to knock him back a step, off balance enough so she could get past him. She couldn’t do this for another minute. Not for a single second more.

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Emily’s eyes tracked Tammy as the harried blonde moved through the room, scrutinizing her. “Tammy doesn’t usually work the floor.”

Jason glanced up from the menu, frowned slightly. “Elizabeth usually works the breakfast shift, doesn’t she?” When Emily lifted her brows, he shrugged. “She said something about it last week.”

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since I saw her the other day. I’m so annoyed by that,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes. She skimmed the menu, though it hadn’t changed in years. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mood for the French Toast. “Here I am, all ready to be supportive and girl power, and now I can’t get her on the phone. I feel stood up. And irrationally angry.”

“Well, at least you know it’s irrational.” Jason frowned, straightening. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounded like—” Jason didn’t finish, but stood up and started to move towards the stairwell. Then Emily could hear it, too. Voices. Angry.

“Get out of my way, I’m tired of saying it—”

“Just let me have five minutes. Damn it, you owe me that—”

Emily had just caught up with Jason at the bottom of the stairs when Lucky and Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs, Elizabeth wearing a tote over one shoulder and a suitcase in the other hand.

“I don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you said to me. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“You’re acting like a child, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Don’t you mean, I’m acting like a brat? I guess I’m just the same girl I always was.” She started down the stairs, but then Lucky reached for her—grabbing the handle of her tote, which jerked Elizabeth back—causing her to slip, her feet to go out from under her—

And then she was tumbling down the stairs.

July 6, 2026

Update Link: The Archer – Part 8

Hey apologies for missing Friday — I got off schedule in the morning for reasons I no longer remember (I think I woke up late? Maybe?) and then my dishwasher and I fought a vicious battle all weekend, and I’m not gonna lie — news starting coming in about Taylor’s wedding Friday evening, and I got very distracted.

I made some tweaks to the calendar, removing the scheduled times. It’s been difficult for me to maintain the scheduled times and it’s a quick stress relief to just eliminate that aspect. It’s supposed to be my vacation, lol, and I want to feel a little free to sleep until 8, and not worry about my 11 writing time.

When I start to write, I post on Twitter and Bluesky. When I finish, I post the links there and in my Patreon chat for Flash Fiction, which is free so sign up and download the app on your phone so you can get a notification when I post there. You can also sign up on the blog here for updates to the site.

See you guys tomorrow!

This entry is part 8 of 10 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 53 minutes.

Sunday, October 15, 2000

Luke’s: Main Bar

Jason slid into the chair across from Sonny, then angled himself slightly so that he could at least see the entrance from his position. He’d always understood why Sonny liked this area of the club — on his side, against the wall, there was a bench-type seating that stretched across the entire section, with a half wall and then a wooden lattice that stretched up the ceiling. It was just to the right of the entrance, and Sonny could see the entire bar — and also keep an eye on who was walking into the bar while his own presence was shielded until that person was all the way inside.

But anyone meeting with Sonny would be vulnerable to the room, and Jason had always done his best to avoid sitting in it when the club was open.

Unfortunately, the night was in full swing — the band was playing, the dance floor was filled, and the bar was packed with regulars.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Sonny asked, tapping the edge of his cigar in the ashtray. “Remember when we were here almost every night?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” A lifetime ago, Jason thought. Before Sonny had abandoned Brenda at the altar, Luke’s had been his primary meeting place, especially when Luke was out of town on one adventure or another. When Luke and Sonny had been partners in friendship as well as business.

That part of their lives had ended more than a year ago, when the garage had been burnt to ashes, Lucky one of the casualties of Sonny’s war to take back the territory.

“Sorel’s been sniffing around here,” Sonny told Jason. “Here, the Oasis, and a few other places. Most of them on the border, like Luke’s. But a few of his guys have been to Kelly’s.” Which was most definitely not a border property.

Jason exhaled slowly. “You think he’s going to try some thing?”

“I think Sorel is under the impression that I’ve pulled back from this part of the business. You know, since we opened the warehouse, and I’ve been stabilizing the international routes.” Sonny tipped his head. “Haven’t been thinking about the clubs. The bread and butter. I got the contacts for that side of it, but you know these players better than I do.”

And they hated Jason more for selling out to Moreno, but sure, that meant Jason knew the players. “Okay, so—”

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. About how we gotta figure out how we’re going to make this work with you sticking around longer. And I think this is how we do it. Divide and conquer. You take the point here,” Sonny said, nodding towards the bar where Luke was visible through the crowds. “And the other places. I’ll call Tommy. He’ll get you set up. Maybe Luke will let you work out of here like we did in the old days.”

It was a solution of sorts, and Jason knew that Sonny meant it as an olive branch. “Have you talked to Luke about this?”

“Luke knows I’m planning to stick close.”

“That you’re planning to,” Jason said. He paused. “He might not want me around. There was—he just might not me sticking so close.”

“Sorel’s got his eye on these places, Jase. And we both agreed that Sorel might be dumb enough to think certain people are back on the table with you around. I figure you’d want to take the lead on this. Since Elizabeth is involved.”

Which was  the exact reason Jason might be the worst person for the job. Elizabeth might not have an issue with the bar fight at Jake’s, but Lucky certainly did, and Luke tended to follow his kid. Or might take exception to the bruised jaw Jason had left Lucky with.

“Look, if you’re not sure—” Sonny held up his hands. “Run it by Luke. If he vetoes it, we’ll figure something else out.”

Hardy House: Kitchen

Elizabeth slid into the chair, smiling wanly when her grandmother set down the bowl of clam chowder. “You really didn’t have to go to the trouble—”

“I’ve never become comfortable with cooking only for myself,” Audrey said, taking another chair at the small table in the corner of their kitchen. “I looked after your grandfather for so many years, and then Tommy stayed here for a while after we…” Her smile faded slightly. “After we lost Steve. And then you and Sarah—you’re doing me a favor, dear.”

“Maybe.” Elizabeth dipped her spoon into the bowl, then swirled it around. “I know you probably want to know why I came here today. Or sat upstairs the whole time.”

“I do. But only if you want to tell me.”

“I…” Elizabeth sighed. Hours she’d spent alone in her teenaged bedroom, planning the words in her head — what she would say to Lucky, to Chloe, to her grandmother, to Emily—to anyone who might not understand. And the moment she’d opened her mouth, all of that careful preparation had fled. “I really was a brat when I moved here, wasn’t I?”

Audrey folded her arms on the table, and Elizabeth looked away, uncomfortable with her grandmother’s penetrating stare. “A brat,” she repeated. “You know, I find that I don’t quite like that word. I don’t find it to be a useful description of anyone, particularly not you. You were rebellious. Resistant. And a little brittle.”

“Brittle,” Elizabeth repeated, squinting. “I don’t think anyone’s used that one before.”

“Brittle bones are easily broken. Fragile,” Audrey added. “One look, one brush, and they might crumble. You were rebellious, yes, my darling. But it was a mask. A disguise you wore to hide who you really were. And it took some time before you trusted me to see that person.”

“Rebellious and brittle. Selfish, too, right?” Elizabeth asked, picking up the spoon. “Shallow?”

Audrey was quiet for a long moment, her brow furrowed. “I suppose I could have used those words. You certainly resented any attention Sarah received, and at first, I assumed it was because you wanted it for yourself. After all, look at what you did to capture my notice. You ran away from the Johnsons, used my credit cards to order pizzas, got caught smoking, used my car without a license—” Audrey tipped her head. “You pulled some…stunts with your sister, trying to embarrass her. Yes, there were some elements of selfishness in all of those things, I think. And I was…at a loss to understand how to help you. Until I realized who I was really seeing when I looked at you and your sister.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I had an older sister, you know that. Lucille. The golden daughter who could never do anything wrong. Who chose the safe, expected life. She became a nurse, went to work, and while she never married, she remained respectable and above reproach.” Audrey smiled. “My parents worshiped her, and I was often frustrated because I never seemed to measure up. I tried. I went into nursing just to show her she wasn’t so special. And then I became a stewardess so I could pretend that I was so much better than she was, jetsetting around the world, never having to answer to anyone.”

“Until you met Gramps.”

“I never intended to stay in Port Charles. To build a life. But I was glad that I did. That the twists and turns of my life gave me Steve, my Tommy—” Audrey reached out, covered Elizabeth’s hand. “You and your sister. And of course, your brother. Once I realized that you were me, and Sarah was your Lucille, I tried to use that. I think we were…I think we were making progress, don’t you? You seemed…happier. More settled. Until…”

“Until I was raped.” Elizabeth’s stomach turned over, and she pushed the bowl away. “I keep thinking of who I used to be. Who I am now. And how much of is it because of the rape.”

Audrey flinched the first time Elizabeth had used the word, but she did better the second time. “Is that an important question for you to answer?”

“I didn’t used to think so. I didn’t…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Do you remember when we went shopping for that dress? For the dance? How many I tried on?”

“Yes, you were kept specific. You wanted a certain color, and a certain style. You knew what flattered you, and you were correct. You looked so lovely that night. I hope that’s all right to say.”

“It’s—yes. Yes,” Elizabeth repeated, and the second time, she knew she meant it. “I was so miserable,  so unhappy with myself for lying to Lucky. For not  being able to shake off his rejection. Because for a little while, I’d felt so beautiful and ready for anything. I was so sure…” She looked down at the table, picked at a seam in the Formica. “I was so sure that Lucky would take one look at me and fall in love.”

“Elizabeth.”

“It’s okay. It is. Um, my point is—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “That used to be something I cared about. My colors, and the type of clothing that flattered me. I’m…I’m short, but I have long legs for my height. A-and I’ll never fill out a shirt the way Pamela Anderson does, but I know how to make the most of what I have. I just…” She met her grandmother’s eyes. “And I don’t just know that for me. I know it for you, for Emily — and for everyone. I’m good at that kind of thing.”

“You have an artistic eye,” Audrey said. She lifted her brows. “But, yes, a flair for fashion. Is this your way of telling me that you’ve decided to take the job?”

“Yes. I-I don’t know if it’s something I’ll want forever, but Chloe’s offering me an opportunity to do something I only dreamed of when I was younger. I—” Elizabeth brushed a tear from her cheek, sniffled. “I used to think that those things — being selfish and shallow a-and rebellious — that it was the reason Tom Baker hurt me. Because if I hadn’t been those things, I-I wouldn’t have been in the park that n-night. So I put them in a box and I put them away. I became someone else. Someone that people liked and respected. Loved,” she said softly, looking back at her hands. “I don’t know if the people in my life would be here if I were still that girl.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I don’t know if Lucky can love me the way I am now. The way I think I want to be. But I don’t know if I love him the way he is now, either. So I guess what I’m saying is…I need to find out. And Chloe’s giving me a chance to do that. I need to take it. I have to do this.”

Luke’s: Bar

“Don’t usually see you in here,” Luke said when Jason slid onto an empty stool. “Not with people around.”

Jason made a face. “I’m here on business. Sonny told you about Sorel, didn’t he?”

Luke popped the top from a green bottle of Rolling Rock, then set it down in front of him. “That he’s nibbling at the edges of Sonny’s fledgling empire? Yeah. He mentioned that.”

“He wants me to handle it. The clubs. You, Kelly’s, the other places.”

“He wants you to deal with the anklebiters while he handles the big fish.” Luke smirked, folded his arms and leaned against the bar back. “Not the first time he’s trying to get you to clean up his mess.”

“This is…actually my mess,” Jason admitted. “I sold out to Moreno. Everything that’s happened since comes back to that.”

“Maybe. Or maybe Sonny hasn’t been focused on the big picture. He likes to think he’s Don Corleone, you know—” Luke nodded over to Sonny’s booth. “Sitting there, granting favors like it’s his daughter’s wedding day. But he’s just like his namesake. Hot-headed to the core and probably gonna end up shot up at a toll booth.” At Jason’s mystified look, Luke scowled. “Oh come on, tell me you’ve seen the Godfather.”

“The movie?”

“No culture, none of you.” Luke made a face. “Okay. So Sonny’s leaving this to you. What’re you telling me for?”

Jason lifted his brows. “I didn’t think you’d want me around.” He paused. “Unless you don’t know that I knocked your kid unconscious at Jake’s the other night.”

Luke pursed his lips, tilted his head. “Cowboy had some bruises when he came by earlier today. Didn’t mention you. You have a good reason to slug him?”

Jason considered the answer. “I wanted to hit someone and his face was there.”

“That is…” Luke considered. “That’s a fair answer. Look, if you’re half as observant as you used to be, then I guess you know Cowboy and Lizzie are having their issues. You planning to get in the way of that?”

“In the way?” Jason echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it means that last year Sorel thought Lizzie was a great way to get to you. Put a bomb in her studio to take you out, and didn’t much care she would get blown up with you. He’s got a long memory, guys in this business always do. You left town, I heard, in part, to make her safe. Now you’re back. And the only way to keep her safe is to stay away.” Luke paused. “Which is easy since she’s in a relationship with my kid. So I’ll ask again — you planning to get in the way of my kid and put Liz back on the board for Sorel to screw with?”

Jason picked up his beer, considered his answer for a long moment. “I’m planning to let Elizabeth decide what she wants to do,” he said finally. He got to his feet. “And yeah, Sorel thought she was a way to get to me. He’d be right. Is that a problem for you?”

“Only if the next bomb ends up in my bar or hurting that girl. I’ll leave the rest of it up to you. And her. And Lucky.”

“Then we don’t have any problems. I’ll see you around, Luke.”

July 1, 2026

Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 117

Can’t believe I’m actually writing the end of this one today! I started it about a year ago, and it’s the longest flash fiction — it’s twice as long as Dear Reader, in both parts and word count. DR had 50 updates and around 118k words. Watch Me Burn is longer at 55 updates and 163k.

You’re Not Sorry is, before I write today’s final update, 295,948 words with 116 published updates. That’s…insane. It’s longer than any single title in the Fool Me Twice or Mad World series.

And I wrote it in one calendar year.

So I’ll try to remind myself of that insane number whenever I feel like I haven’t written much this year. I have, and it’s kind of insane, isn’t it?

Reminder! I’m scheduling off days for myself based on the Phillies — they’re not playing tomorrow, so I’m not scheduling any writing. With the curriculum done, I’m going to try to actually take the whole day off. I’ve got the new Jayne Castle loaded on the Nook, some fun new Sims 4 mods to try out, and a list of shows my sister wants me to watch. Let’s see if I can avoid working for a whole day.

See you on Friday for The Archer.

This entry is part 117 of 117 in the Flash: You're Not Sorry

Written in 75 minutes. Had to go over, of course, since this is the end and that last Liason needed to be perfect. Be sure to let me know what you think if you’ve stuck with me this long!

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Webber House: Living Room

Aiden hopped the last step from the landing to the first floor, and the ornaments inside the cardboard box rattled slightly, making his mother wince. “It’s nothing breakable, Mom,” he told her, slightly out of breath from the mad dash to the storage closet on the third floor. “We already put all that stuff up.”

“Still—” Elizabeth retrieved the box, then turned when the front door opened and Jason came in, followed by Danny who seemed a little subdued. Not that she’d expected any less considering what their plans had been that morning. “Hey, how did it go?”

“Good.” Jason took Danny’s coat, hung it up, then crossed over to Elizabeth, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Tracy didn’t even argue.”

“Hard to disappoint a seven-year-old,” Danny added, joining them by the half-decorated tree. “Scout turned on the charm, and Aunt Tracy can’t resist her. Plus, Grandma Monica made it seem like her idea.”

“What did you bring?” Jake wanted to know. “Which ornaments?”

“Uh—” Danny slid off the top of the shoebox in his hands, looked down. “Scout made me take the stuff I made in school when I was a kid.” He made a face, lifting a misshapen star made out of clay and clumsly painted green with glitter flaking off. “But we don’t have to use any of it—”

“Nah, it can go in the back with Aiden’s kindegarten angel,” Cameron said, taking it from him. “That’s where we put the ugly stuff.”

Aiden rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother’s jab. “We saved some empty space for you,” he told Danny.

“Thanks. Um, Scout wanted the topper. It’s a star that lights up, and—” Danny looked down at his box. “Mom used to lift her up to put it on the tree. Until last year, I think. Scout was too big so, uh, Dante did it for her.”

Elizabeth rubbed his shoulder, and he looked at her, smiled faintly, then looked back down. “That’s okay, we have ours, don’t we, Cam?”

“Yep.” Cam knelt down with the rest of the Christmas boxes. “Mom’s had this thing forever,” he said, lifting a tissue wrapped object when he got to his feet. “Like a century.”

Elizabeth snatched it from him with a glare. “I’ve had it since I was eighteen—”

“Like I said, a century.”

“Eighteen?” Jason echoed, raising his brows. “Is it the—”

“From my very first tree the year I moved out of Gram’s. Your dad and I decorated that tree together,” she told Jake, unwrapping the angel. She smoothed down the fabric. “It’s a little worn, but every time I look at her, I think of being on my own for the first time.” She looked at Jake. “You know, your dad picked this one. I gave him some choices.”

“After I spent the entire afternoon pasting together a paper chain,” Jason remembered, and she grinned. “You don’t have any of that in the box—”

“Actually—” Elizabeth nodded at one of the still covered boxes. “I don’t have as much of it, but for a few years, Cam and I took pieces as they fell off, and decorated them with paint, glitter—” She handed the angel to Jake. “Do you want to put it on top? You’re still the tallest.”

“Yeah, okay. How come you picked the angel?” Jake wanted to know, then grunted slightly as he set the angel on the top branch. “Stars make more sense. They’re actually real.”

Jason rubbed the corner of his eyebrow. “Uh, I think I said something about angels like to watch over things,” he said, then looked at Elizabeth who flushed, and looked down.

“Oh, ew, gross,” Jake said with a shudder. “Never mind. Sorry I asked.” He was rewarded with a flick from his oldest brother. “Can we just light this thing so we can get on with it?”

Apartment: Living Room

“That is a sorry excuse for a tree,” Rocco said, grimacing at the table top tree, half-heartedly decorated with a few ornaments — mostly the red and green balls Dante had found at the dollar store the day before.

“Sorry,” Dante said, with a sigh. He sat down on the sofa to pull on his shoes. “It was the best we could do this year. Next year, we’ll be back in a house with enough space for a real tree. Something worth dragging our stuff out of storage.”

“Had a real house,” Rocco muttered, folding his arms. “Could have stayed with the Qs—” Had a chef, too, and a maid. Man, he was going to miss Sasha.

“You and me, we needed to be on our own little,” Dante told him, getting to his feet. “Figure out how we’re going to make this work.”

“I guess.” Rocco cleared his throat. “Um…Danny, you know, he’s coming back to school when we go back. He’s not seeing that doctor as much.”

“Jason said that was going good. And I’m glad you and Danny are doing better. You’ll see him tomorrow when they come to the Qs for dinner.”

“I was thinking…” he looked at his father quickly, then looked back at the tree. “Maybe I could talk to him. That doctor. Or…someone like him. About…Mom.” He didn’t look at his father. Couldn’t.

“I think,” Dante said, coming up behind Rocco, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a good idea. I’ll make some calls.”

“Thanks.”

They watched the tree for another moment, and one of the ornament fell off the branch, rolled off the table, hit the floor, and kept rolling until it disappeared beneath the sofa.

“It really is a terrible tree,” Dante said with a sigh.

Davis House: Living Room

The fire was crackling in the hearth, emitting warmth and a hazy light. Snow was falling outside — lightly, just enough to coat the steps and driveways. Maybe another inch to lay on the four that had fallen a few days earlier.

And Alexis was alone, staring at the flames, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. A year ago, the room had been full of sounds. All three of her girls, Dante and TJ, and of course, the grandbabies. Molly and TJ full of happiness and excitement for the future with the surrogate they’d planned, her girls still a team.

How different life would have been if that surrogacy had been successful. Kristina never would have been involved, Molly and TJ would have their precious Irene…

And Sam would be with her kids, alive and whole. Not buried miles away in a grave near the dead babies who’d gone before her.

There was a light knock at her door, and Alexis sighed, turned to answer it. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk to anyone, but if it was Diane trying to cheer her up, Alexis might have to let her.

Instead it was Molly and TJ on the other side. TJ had a brown grocery bag in his hands, and Molly had a large tote bag slung over her shoulder with wrapping paper sticking out.

“Hey, Mom.” Molly forced herself to smile. “I thought maybe we could have some dinner and wrap a few gifts for the kids tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.” Alexis pressed a fist to her chest. “I’d like that very much.”

Jamesville Correctional Facility: Cell

They forced everyone into their cells at eight, and lights went out at ten. No changes were made for the holiday season. Not that it mattered.

Kristina laid on the cot, staring at the concrete ceiling above her. It wasn’t entirely silent on her block — there were the whispers, and the rustlings.

She had no cell mates — which she’d enjoyed at first, but then, when she’d realized it was because the government didn’t want anyone her father could use — because they wanted her to be isolated and alone. Desperate and lonely.

They’d offered her a deal already. Tell them what she knew about her father’s business, and maybe she’d get some perks. Moved to a cushier federal prison. One where she might have more freedom. More comforts.

She’d told them no the first time, and the second and third time the lawyer had offered. But the fourth time — she’d had to tell them the truth. There was nothing Kristina could offer. She didn’t know anything. They’d just smirked, told her to think harder.

It should be her father in here, Kristina thought. If she couldn’t get Jason into this damn cell where he belonged for bringing John Cates down on all of them, then it should be her father — it had all started with him. Cates had been using her against her father, and had Sonny done anything to stop it? No. Selfish bastard.

The Feds were right. She just had to think a bit harder.  And then she’d find a way to get herself out of here.

Webber House: Living Room

“Do you really think they’re asleep?” Jason asked, handing Elizabeth a mug of hot chocolate. “It’s too quiet.”

“They know if they mess with me on Christmas Eve, there’s hell to pay.” But her eyes sparkled when she said it. “But they also know it’s my favorite holiday, so I like to think they pretend to still be into the magic even now.” She set the mug on the coffee table. “Come on. We have to put out the rest of the presents.”

“The rest?” Jason followed her to the downstairs storage closet. He peered over his shoulder at the tree, with brightly wrapped gifts arranged around the base. “Where are you going to fit it?”

“I did go a little overboard this year—” Elizabeth handed him a bag with gifts wrapped in completely different paper. “But some of that is going to your mother’s tomorrow. For Amelia and Wiley. And Scout. I picked up a few things for Rocco, and, well you know, shopping for Danny was agonizing. I just—” She sighed. “I just don’t want him to ever think I’m trying to replace his mother. I don’t want Scout to think that.”

“He doesn’t.” Jason kissed her forehead, then lingered for a moment. “He’s doing okay most of the time. Scout…she cried when they pulled out the star.” They returned to the living room and he set the bag on the sofa. “Drew helped her put on the tree, and she was upset. It wasn’t the same.”

“She’s so young. I keep thinking — what do I remember before I was seven?” she said to him. “What do I really remember? And it’s not much. When we finish redecorating the room for her, we should try to put a lot of pictures. Danny could help with that right, so that everywhere Scout looks, she’ll see memories?” Elizabeth bit her lip, her brow furrowed in thought. “Should we try to make it like her room at the penthouse? Or completely different? What do you think will help? Maybe we should tell her tomorrow and make decorating it another gift from us? So she could choose? Or maybe that’s—you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not. I’m not.” Jason crossed to her, took the bag she held, and set it on the ground so that he could take her hands, bring them to his lips. “I don’t know how you always find more to give. More love, more understanding—”

“You act like it’s so difficult,” Elizabeth said, “but she’s just a little girl, and she didn’t ask for any of this. Drew deciding to leave her for months at a time when she’s already lost so much—that’s his daughter, and they’ve already missed so much time—” She shook her head. “But then I think—well, selfishly, this is better for Danny. Because I know it’s hard on him when Cam’s home and the boys are   all together. All he can think is the picture’s not complete with my little sister—” She stopped, sighed. “You’re thinking about Sam, aren’t you? Because if it were different — if it were up to Sam to open her home to Jake or any of my boys—”

“She wouldn’t have done it.”

“Well, that would have been her loss.” Elizabeth shook her head. “And I don’t want you to think I’m doing this just for you, okay? I’ve told you from the beginning — Danny is Jake’s brother. Scout is his cousin. That’s family. I spent years trying to get my parents and siblings to give a damn about me, and when I realized that was never going to happen, I decided to make sure that I would build my own family. One that would never leave. One that you could depend on. Trust to be there.”

“You did that. And then some. Your boys don’t just rely on each other, Elizabeth. They love each other,” Jason told her, and she looked away, her eyes shimmering. “Cameron was ready to give up his entire future to be with them. To make sure they were okay. And they refused to let him. And they let other people in. Watching them these last few months, getting to be part of it, part of this family—” He slid a finger under her chin, gently guided until she was looking at him. “You pulled out that angel and I remember that first Christmas. I was—it was one of the worst times of my life. And you gave me something to hold on to. I fell in love you, you know. Making those paper chains. Decorating that ridiculous tree.”

She laughed, bit her lip and shook her head. “It was a great tree. I loved it. I loved every minute of it. And I fell in love with you, too, you know. Because you went along with it. I wanted to be silly and happy, and feel the magic — and you didn’t just smile and nod. You cut and paste.” She covered the hand on her face, brought his fingers to her lips. “Then let me decorate you, wrapping those silly chains around you until we got them on the tree.”

“I wasn’t ready to be in love with you, or anyone then. And I know we kept missing each other. Kept missing our chance—” When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “We both made mistakes. And we won’t go over them again, I promise. We’ve put it away. Forgiven each other. But I don’t want you to think that when I tell you I love you, I’m still talking about before. About when we were younger. Decorating that tree. Out on my bike. In that safehouse, stealing time. I don’t want you to think that it’s just — we were both here and available, and that we settled. I never stopped loving you the way I did that day, choosing that angel for our first tree. But I fell in love with you again now. Here. Facing what you went through with so much courage. Loving my son and opening your home to him when he needed it. When I needed it,” he added. “I fell in love with you all over again, Elizabeth. You just should know that.”

“I—” She inhaled shakily, tears sliding down her cheek. “I fell in love with you then, and now. You stood by me through this, did nothing even though I know how hard that was. You guided my boys through this when I couldn’t, loving them like they were all yours, not just Jake. Danny’s a part of you, a part of Jake. How could I love him less? I fell in love you again. I never stopped, but I—” Her eyes grew wide when he reached into his pocket for a box. “What is that?”

“Something I’ve been carrying around for a week,” Jason admitted, a little surprised when his fingers weren’t quite steady as he opened it. “I know I’ve asked you this a few times. But I’m hoping if I ask you just one more time—”

“It’s…” Elizabeth lifted her eyes to him. “Emerald and ruby? That’s—”

“I asked for the birthstones in May and July. For the boys. I thought—”

“It’s perfect. There—just—” She let out a breath. “But you didn’t ask me. Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said almost as soon as he finished asking, very nearly in the same breath. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He plucked the ring from the box, slid it onto her fingers, then pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. “It’ll be different this time,” he promised her. “I won’t let anything stop us. I won’t take it back.”

“I won’t let you.” She pulled back, framed his face with her hands, her thumb brushing gently at a tear that had slid down his cheek. “It’s forever this time. You and me.”

He kissed, pouring everything he’d ever felt for her into it, all the passion, longing, and even some of the regret. They’d missed so much of each other’s lives, he wasn’t going to miss one more day.

“We need to, um,—” She pulled away, letting her forehead rest against his, slightly out of breath. “We need to finish the gifts. They—they can’t stay in the bags.”

“Okay. Okay.” He kissed her hand, then lifted the first one out, looking to see which pile it should go in. To Jake from Santa. He looked at her. “From Santa?”

“Oh—” Elizabeth swiped at her  eyes. “Well, Amelia and Wiley and Scout — they all still believe, so this way, the boys can honestly say they got gifts from Santa, and it’ll be part of the magic, you know? I want to keep it alive for them as long as we can.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that,” Jason told her, and she smiled at him, brilliantly with all the sparkle she’d had that first Christmas when she’d asked him to hold her paper chains, and he’d have done anything, even pull down the moon if she’d asked. “You never do.”

THE END