blue eyes. "I'm the grown-up here. I'm taking care of you, baby. You shouldn't be wor

roan. Two times in one day is a little to

around. And I want you to experience that. I want y

et worked up and be sick again. "I'll make you a deal. As long as you take the next few days o

warm from just her presence. Any time I start to fee

sed on the twisty, complex storyline playing out on the screen. I've los

re's a tiny little coffee shop a few blocks away, and with my headphones blaring my favorite song, it takes almo

feel like such a stereotype. Nana getting sick was the biggest reason I decided to come back to New York,

s what I'm supposed to be doing. Storytelling was always my passion growing up, and when I got to c

ds the first clue that could lead her to find out what truly happened that night at the deadly lake behi

y characters. At work, my mind wanders back to thoughts of scenes in my book, and with Nana, I think

eds me to go in. As much as I love organization, I don't plan my books. I see the story in my head and the way I get there, but the fun part is fig

t been run off the road by the killer's equally unstable cousin, and her head is bleeding. As much as I want to sit and fi

ng like zero gravity. How do I get my protagonist out of this situation? Is she too

appens in my life. Nothing this exciting, or dangerous, or reckless. Maybe that's why I'm writing. N

Maybe I just need t

pte

o

l talent. Some people act, some people d

other hand

ther chance to sho

ass the time. Leaning against the exterior wall of this nightclub, the memory

ts for flannels and jackets. My father took my brothers and me hunting for the first time. We'd spent a good f

hiked from our truck through the hills until finally, we stumbled into a bit of clearing. At first, there wasn't much to see. A squ

look h

food. My father gave me a look. As the oldest, I knew what it meant. I'd seen it plenty of t

d set my jaw, holding the position until I could feel the right moment to strike. The air in my chest sto

Before my brothers Gedeon and Ivan could bl

the short nod of his head, the most subtle of compliments. It was enough to satisfy me-for a m

. Elk. Even a bear once, with a perfect shot through its eye. My father seemed pleased with my skill. For years, we honed it, im