Page 69 of The Write Track
She made a face. “I’m fine writing what I’m writing.”
“I know that. If you ever want to branch out, though, I’m here to talk about it with you. I have been through it all before.”
“Don’t you think I should do the smart thing and write what I know can make money? I left my relationship with Preston withnothing. I didn’t even get severance because I walked off the job with his father and gave no notice.”
“That goat scrotum.” I muttered. “He still has to give you what you’ve earned even if you do walk off the job. Are you telling me he didn’t?”
Bella looked caught off guard. “I don’t… how do you know that?” she asked finally.
“Because my father has talked about workplace law to me so many times I’ve lost count. He’s been caught in several lawsuits because he’s a jerk. I know exactly what somebody can get away with, and what you’re describing is not one of those things.”
“Huh.” Bella looked genuinely perplexed. “It’s not worth going after now,” she said finally. “That will just bring Preston Martin Charles II in, and you don’t want to meet him.”
I had no doubt she was telling the truth. I wouldn’t let it go, though. “I’m getting you your severance.”
“You can’t. Preston doesn’t have the power to grant that to me.”
“Oh, I’m betting he does.” I pulled back my hand so she could open the door. “I’m being serious about the writing. I get that you have a plan you’re following. When you’re ready to branch out—and that will happen when you feel more financially secure—I’ll be here to help you.”
She paused before stepping over the threshold. “How can you be sure that you won’t get sick of me between now and then? You might not even want to be my friend after this retreat.”
My heart tugged at the earnest expression on her face. She was braced for people not to care about her because her father, and then Preston and his family, had taught her that was the way the world worked. Well, I wasn’t going to do that to her.
“I will always be here to help you, Bellarino,” I promised her. “Not everybody leaves.”
“That’s the weird thing,” she admitted. “I left Preston, and before I even realized it, but I’m still on shaky ground with him. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of there.”
I knew. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, though. “He can’t hurt you, Bella.” My voice was soft. “He’s trying, but he can’t do it because you’re bigger than him. That’s the reason he wanted you in the first place. You were always larger than life, Bella. He wanted that power for himself.” I took a deep breath before finishing it out. “He wanted to take that power from you so he could feel powerful himself.”
She considered it. “I just want him to leave me alone. Why won’t he just go away?”
She sounded so vulnerable I did the only thing I could and pulled her into my arms for a hug.
I was rocked by the way she felt pressed against me. She was so short, so tiny, that I could wrap myself around her completely, and nobody would be able to touch her. She was warm, delicate, and she giggled with her face against my chest.
“You’re such a moose,” she said out of nowhere.
I smiled as I rubbed my hands over her back. Touching her felt somehow inevitable. It was a bad idea—a terrible idea, really—but I couldn’t stop myself. “I am not abnormally large.”
She lifted her eyes, amusement playing in them.
“Actually, I am abnormally large when we’re talking aboutthat,” I said pointedly, unable to let the moment pass without making light of it. “You’re just pocket-sized.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not.” To my surprise, and clearly hers, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on. We should get to dinner. It will probably take me forever to eat ten steak medallions because he has to go small whenever he thinks he’s going big for food.”
“Yeah.” Bella pulled away, an unreadable look on her face. Was the forehead kiss too much? “Will you be offended if I drinktoo much at the bonfire tonight? I feel the need to get a little rowdy.”
That elicited a full smile from me. “I believe I can be persuaded to join you in that little endeavor.”
“Yeah?” Her beautiful smile was back. “Remind me to tell you about the time my mother made a Witchy Sour for Preston on one of the few times he could be bothered to visit Salem in October. She dosed it with an herb that gives people the runs.”
I barked out a laugh. “Your mother sounds crazy.”
“She is, but it’s the good type of crazy. I used to think she didn’t realize they were belittling her. She did. She just refused to react because she knew that would bother them more than any mean thing she could have said to them.”
“Your mother is a goddess amongst men.”
