Chapter 9: Now
The wooden floorboards creaked under Logan’s weight, no matter how quietly he tried to make his way into the kitchen. The morning light hung lazily about the sparsely furnished living room, and the kitchen, if you could even call it that, was small and cramped. Logan was barely able to wedge himself between the L-shaped counter and the cabinets along the back wall, but did so anyway, fumbling around to start a pot of coffee. The old appliance sputtered and gurgled, but still dutifully went about its task. For a long moment, Logan simply watched the russet liquid drip into the pot, the slight breeze from the open window that looked down onto the street below rustling the plastic blinds.
Meanwhile, he could hear Laura breathing in the next room, steady and even. He could guess that she still would have been exhausted from the long ride north. Laura typically woke at the drop of a hat, just like Logan did. Perhaps it helped, he thought, that she finally had a little bit of her own space, at least for the time being. When they had staked the place out a handful of days ago, Laura had hesitantly hovered just beyond the little room, which could have only been around eight feet long and a few less across, as if it were some ethereal, magical thing. It had a window, at least. It was also thinly furnished like the rest of the place, a twin bed and nightstand among the rest.
“This ok?” Logan had asked hesitantly, standing back a few paces behind her as she silently walked around the room, running her small hand over the little windowsill. Logan had hoped she’d agree, because in this town it was the only space that had been for rent. Her eyes were wide as she turned back to him and nodded slightly. Logan had noticed last night the horse figurine and the two thin comic books now had a place atop the chipped white paint of the windowsill. Other than a couple of other outfits they had picked up along the way, she owned little else.
Logan took to inspecting the fridge for milk, which he realized was almost completely bare. They had put the few things that had made the journey with them, but it was now pretty much devoid of any real food. A couple of long necks in the fridge, a little orange juice. As he moved to look in the cupboard, he inventoried a mostly empty can of Pringles, a half-empty tub of Folgers and a few stale cigars that he haphazardly had thrown in there that first night they made it in. Shuffling the contents around, he finally happened upon a couple of the mismatched mugs that had come with the place they were renting. He pulled a chipped white one out, the faded red words I’d rather be in Canada on the side of it. He smirked a little as he turned back over to the coffee pot, unable to actually take steps in a kitchen this small and grabbed the pot off the burner even though it was only half-way through, impatient. He filled his mug up, the steam wafting, as he once more limped as silently as possible over to, a worn, brown armchair, one of the two places to sit in the living room, stifling a fresh cough as he did so. Logan had been pleasantly surprised yesterday when he had happened upon an actual print copy of a local weekly newspaper. Snagging his glasses off of the coffee table and settling them on his nose, finally, for the first time in a long time, he paged his way through the week-old news in relative peace.
Laura and Logan were modest people, and they didn’t need much space, but he knew this little upstairs apartment could only be temporary. For one, it was still partially in town, even if it did only cling to the outskirts of Hay River. This particular town hadn’t even been their actual destination, but Laura had liked the picture of the waterwheel on the sign as they driven by. Laura hadn’t known what a waterwheel was and had asked about it, and Logan had found himself begrudgingly explaining basic hydraulics to her, much to Laura’s enthusiasm. At any rate, that seemed a good enough reason as any to stay put.
They were on the edge of the Great Slave Lake now, in the Northwestern Territories, farther north than Logan had ever wandered in his days running the cage-fighting circuit, closer to the Arctic Circle than anywhere else. Hay River was situated on the river by the same name, which fed into the lake about a mile north. There was water, deep and blue, everywhere, with miles of evergreens now a rich emerald in the August sun. It was a little, sleepy town, but it had a grocery store and a couple of schools and a small hospital, which seemed enough. It was warm and inviting here now, but Logan didn’t have to guess that winters this far north would be harsh, but hopefully not unmanageable. They were, quite literally, on the edge of the world.
In the meantime, they had heat and running water and electricity. Logan had been alive long enough to know that, at some points during his existence, these basic necessities of modern life could be thought of coveted luxuries. The landlady, a widow who had introduced herself as Kay, was a short, aging indigenous woman who ran an antique shop on the bottom floor of the building. The place they were renting had been nothing but a storeroom for many years, but had been converted into a living space after her husband had passed. She had told him this matter-of-factly, and for some reason Logan found himself taking to her. She seemed resilient and practical, her strong Chipewyan accent unapologetic. But mainly, Logan realized it was because she hadn’t asked many questions of them. And he had to give the older woman credit, to watch the old Bronco roll up to the shop, a tall, hulking man with some spectacular scars and his daughter who was fluent in Spanish following close behind him.
Laura had stood near the swinging glass door, lingering at the edge of the incredibly cluttered shop. On all sides, dusty VHS tapes and old camera recorders, tin lunch boxes and brass lamps, most things Laura had never before encountered in her life. The scents were also stacked on top of one another here, practically buckling under the weight of their age and volume.
“You have a moving van arranged?” Kay had asked, noticing the lack of furniture, luggage, and mostly all personal belongings.
Logan had looked back to Laura and the girl only barely shrugged her shoulders
“Uh, no ma’am. We um, we’re hoping to make a change. Blank slate, and all that, up north.” She looked at Logan with interest then, and while Logan had anticipated to see suspicion in her eyes, he found none. Her own pair of readers rested on her face, the grey strands coiled up into a bun with the rest of her stark black hair. For a second she looked behind Logan, noticing Laura was currently fixated on a pile of dusty books in the corner.
“You can take a couple, sekui, if you like,” gesturing to the books, before settling her eyes on Logan once more. “Free. Seyaz ts’ékui, my daughter, read a few of them a long while ago to help her with English. Young adult fiction. A bit scary, but it seems she isn’t one to be afraid,” she said, looking at Laura. Logan’s eyebrows raised just slightly and he coughed a bit before looking down at the book Laura had brought over to the counter. He didn’t recognize it, but a small shiver went down his spine all the same at reading the title. A Series of Unfortunate Events.
After being handed the rental agreement to sign, Logan still noticed it was on carbon copy paper, which he hadn’t seen in decades. If he had been hesitant to use his own name, his fear eased up a bit, realizing there was no way this woman kept digital records. He finally scribbled James Howlett in a barely legible, noncommittal way on the form.
“That about it then?” he had asked, looking up at the woman again. She had been staring at him profoundly, but oddly not in a way Logan found off-putting.
“Yes, nághaye. Good.”
He knew there would be some talk relatively soon, there always was in small towns, about the new residents renting the tiny place on the north side of Hay River, but as he thumbed through the dwindling cash, now in Canadian dollars at least, and forked over the first month’s rent and security deposit, he glanced back at Laura’s tired eyes and her now paler skin, realizing it was time. They had reached the point where they would have to stop running.
He would need to find some steady work soon anyway. Logan now remembered that, before cage-fighting, he had worked for a lumber yard a greater part of a century ago in northern Canada, but Logan knew that most of these yards were closed now, the work done by more sophisticated machinery. Also, there was the plain fact that Logan no longer could simply rely on his physicality to earn a living anyway, as his condition seemed stubbornly stagnant and intent on keeping him miserable. On a sly mention to Kay, however, about being decent with a hammer after noticing a sagging ceiling panel, she had already called around and strung together a couple of small fix-it jobs about town. Logan wasn’t necessarily surprised; these small towns up north always had that way about them. Most of these people had little and were always on the brink of struggling, but they were also good about looking out for each other. That’s how these little towns, so far away from anything convenient, tended to survive up here. Logan’s goal, if he could pull in enough money, was eventually to find some place a little bigger, a little farther out of this town or someplace like it. Logan realized the odd handyman jobs probably wouldn’t be enough, but it was still a start at something permanent. And there the word was, heavy and foreign in his mind. Permanence. Even the plans of the Sunseeker hadn’t had the ring of that word, and its weight mildly disturbed him. Logan had never been one, even at his most domestic, to stick to any given place for very long. It was probably well past time, however, particularly because doing so, out here, at least, would hopefully mean that Laura was safe—far away from those looking to hurt her.
The coffee had long gone cold in his hands, the newspaper still fairly unread in his lap as he had been wading in deep thought, when Laura yawned sleepily and walked in from the short hallway. He noticed that over her pajamas she wore his brown workman’s coat, almost like it was a morning robe, the sleeves far too long on her, even rolled up. Logan had been keeping track that the last few mornings she had taken up wearing it, and he wondered briefly if the reason was because the coat smelled like him, something familiar in a place that wasn’t. Whatever her compulsion for doing so, though, the act of her wearing it in the morning was steadily becoming part of a larger morning ritual Logan found himself almost enjoying.
“Buenos dias,” Laura murmured. She stood there sleepily, content on just watching Logan read for a second, before looking toward the kitchen. “Desayuno?” she finally asked, although her look wasn’t hopeful. Logan took off his glasses and set them on the table along with the mug of coffee, gesturing toward the fridge.
“Orange juice is all we have for breakfast, kid,” he said, with a helpless shrug. Laura frowned a little, but then got over it, choosing to crawl up into the other armchair instead. Again, another ritual that had developed over the last couple of days. She grabbed his reading glasses from the table where he had set them down and put them on her own face, peering over the frames at him. He sighed a bit, this little habit of hers rendering his ability to read the paper useless.
“How do you say ‘blue’?” she finally asked, pushing the bulky sleeves of his coat up on her thin arms.
“Azul,” he said assuredly. She had begun quizzing him on the road somewhere around northern Alberta, and he had humored her by memorizing a couple of words.
“How do you say ‘heat’?”
“Caliente. Ah fuck, no ah, calor,” he corrected himself.
She peered once more at him, but now was unable to contain her smile at his fumble, his glasses sliding further down her small nose as she did so.
“What about food?” Logan asked.
“Comida?”
“Yeah, that. We need some. Wanna go into town today?’
She began nodding enthusiastically.
“We can get a couple of other things too. Some things to set up shop here for a bit longer. And maybe a charger for your little music player, if they have one?” At this, Laura’s smile widened even more so.
“Si! Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, kid,” Logan said, through a small smile. “Why not?”
--
The light of the store was bright and unnatural, as Logan became increasingly overwhelmed at the brightly colored and incredibly complicated packaging of the food. He wasn’t so great about eating himself, typically choosing not to if anything about the process was at all inconvenient, but Laura seemed to be hungry constantly, and he had no idea how to satiate the little animal half the time. While there was no possible way she could eat anything that would adversely affect her health, thanks to a handy dose of healing factor, he assumed some things might make her feel fuller over others. He highly doubted the answer to the problem was potato chips and Twinkies, but he was damned if he was gonna figure out how to shop, let alone cook, for both of them just quite yet. Grabbing two empty shopping baskets from the end of the aisle, he shoved one basket into Laura’s hands.
“Just…get some things. Fill the basket. And Laura…not all junk food, ok?” she looked up at him at that.
“Junk food?” she asked, pretending to not understand his words, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“You know what I mean,” Logan sighed. “Just…make sure to pick out some stuff that actually grew on trees. Or vines. Or what the fuck ever. Meet you at the front in ten.”
While Laura tottered around the produce, Logan found himself prowling the other part of the store, intent on the housewares aisle. Staring up again at the myriad of choices, he started haphazardly pulling things off the shelf and into his basket. Shampoo, dental floss, better toothbrushes for them both. And then, with one more lingering moment of hesitation, he added shaving cream and a decent razor for himself.
He was on his way to the liquor aisle when he spotted Laura again, having wandered away from the food. Logan glanced at her basket from afar and realized Laura had done a fairly decent job. Since being out of the lab, she seemed to flock to certain tastes, mostly salty things, but he was relieved to notice that she also had picked out a jar of olives, red seedless grapes, peanut butter and strawberry jam. Now though, she was staring at hair combs and brushes, plastic clips and ties.
As he met her up at the front after Logan had stocked up on some cheap beer, Laura held out a little set of four purple, sparkly hair clips up in the air toward him, silently asking for his permission to include them with the rest. “How much?” Logan asked, a bit annoyed, but the look in her eye was getting to him. It wasn’t a necessity, but neither was the beer.
“Dos dolores,” she said.
“Yeah, ok,” Logan grumbled, before they both headed to the checkout line.
“Xahto,” the girl behind the cash register greeted them, looking at Laura and smiling. It wasn’t the first time someone up this far north had mistaken Laura for being native to the region, and Laura looked back to Logan a bit helpless.
“Uh, yeah, hello,” he said, unloading the basket and putting things on the conveyer belt. The girl behind the counter was pretty, young, with dark black hair and hazelnut skin, and he could tell Laura was admiring her, particularly taken with her silver, dangling earrings. She smiled a little bit more at Laura before switching to English.
“Find everything ok?” she said, as she started checking them out.
“Yeah, we did. But, hey, do you sell chargers, like for this?” Logan asked, as he dug Laura’s dead music player out of his pocket.
“Haven’t see one of those in a while. But we have converter chargers, just down there,” she pointed to a line of them on hooks just above the candy a few paces away from the conveyer belt.
“Thanks,” he muttered. As Logan went to grab one, he heard Laura meekly slip the pack of clips onto the counter for the clerk to ring up.
“These for you or for your dad?” she joked, looking back toward Logan. Logan grumbled something incomprehensible while fumbling looking for the correct charger. Laura turned to look at Logan for a moment longer, a small frown forming on her face at the word “dad”, before turning back to the older girl, pointed to herself and smiling once again. The girl ran them through and automatically gave them right back to her. As Logan finally picked out the right charger, along with heaving the rest of the items onto the conveyer, Laura fiddled with one of the clips, taking it out of its packaging and snapping the flimsy metal back and forth.
“Do you...want some help?” the older girl asked. She looked up to Logan for approval and he just shrugged his shoulders and nodded slightly. “Want me to show you how?” she asked Laura again. Laura nodded quietly, another small smile on her face. In less than a minute, the older girl had moved from behind the counter and had fixed the clip in, the sparkly purple looking a bit foreign as it caught the light and glittered in the natural dark brown of Laura’s hair.
“There,” the older girl said, standing back to assess her handiwork. She turned to Logan, smiling again. “æaxenét’î. Your daughter is beautiful, yes?” she asked him and he realized Laura was looking up at him hesitantly.
“Uh, yeah,” he finally said, his voice feeling like gravel as he shuffled the plastic bags in his hands. “Very pretty.”
--
Later that night, Logan listlessly watched ads appear on the small television screen, beer in hand. It was late, too late, but since arriving in Hay River and his exhaustion from always driving subsiding, his sleep was shit again. Laura had gone to bed hours ago, and Logan once again felt a little surge of gratitude that she had her own room and he didn’t have to stalk about outside to give her privacy. He had awkwardly stood at her doorway, like he had the last couple of nights, but she had just smiled at him assuredly as he closed the door behind him. He noticed the strip of light underneath the door had been illuminated for a while, and he had assumed she had been reading. She had been every night since they arrived, but, after a while, even the lamp light had gone out.
He had eventually found his own way to his room, flopping down on the bed, watching the ceiling fan circulate. His room was only a little bigger than Laura’s, just large enough that a full bed was wedged in the corner, and for a while, he listened to the air dance back and forth.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he had felt the room grow hazy and his vision was drifting in and out of focus when he heard her scream. He shot up, and before he could think he was bounding toward her room and throwing open the door. He was standing in the doorway, breathing hard, to witness Laura sitting up in bed, claws out, tears in her eyes. The sheets around her were rumpled, tattered in places and speckled with blood. It was like his whole fucking life, staring back at him in confusion. Logan swallowed hard as he steadied his breathing, realizing nothing onerous had actually happened. She looked around wildly for a minute though, breathing heavily herself, before finally focusing in on him, now actually waking up.
“Daddy?” she asked through tears, a confused expression on her face. Logan’s eyes widened a bit as he stared at her.
“It’s me, kid” was the only thing he could manage to say.
“Pesadillas,” she whispered, and then, gaining better understanding of her surroundings, she withdrew her claws instantly, looking around, a little embarrassed. He sighed and walked into the room then. Meanwhile, Laura picked up what was left of the sheet, and frowned.
“It’s ok, kid. We’ll get new ones.” Her face hardened a bit then, looking up at him still, both of them unsure how to do this, what roles to really play.
“You… wanna talk about it?” he asked after a while, finally sitting on the foot of the bed.
She shook her head a little at first, but then, whispered, “It was about..mi madre.” Logan stiffened at that. From his limited knowledge, it was unlikely that Laura had known the poor woman Transigen most likely captured, afterward being forced to carry Laura against her will. A shiver went down Logan’s spine as he closed his eyes momentarily, forced once more to deal with looming memories.
“But…you didn’t know her, right?” he finally asked awkwardly.
“No. But I…still dream about her sometimes, si?”
Logan nodded a bit, knowing full well what that felt like.
“I have nightmares, too, kid,” he admitted.
“Si, I know. You shout sometimes. In your sleep,” Laura said slowly. Logan silently cursed the fact she was well aware of this knowledge, but moved on.
“Well, you know then, it’s not likely gonna get better. I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it for ya kid. You’re like me, which means you’re probably gonna have to see a lotta people die before you do, understand?”
“Like Charles?” Laura whispered. Logan’s heart thumped heavily.
“Yeah, like Charles,” Logan murmured.
“Like mi madre too,” she said. Logan said nothing, because there was nothing he could say to temper it. It was the truth.
“What about la mujer?” Laura finally asked, timidly.
“What do you mean?” Logan questioned, although his muscles were already coiled, tense and ready for what was coming next. Meanwhile Laura’s book taunted him from her bedside. A Series of Unfortunate Events.
“The woman. En el comic?” She pointed to the windowsill, but she didn’t need to. “With the pretty hair?”
Logan closed his eyes, taking a long, steady breath.
“Nothing for you to worry yourself over, kid.”
“But she’s gone now, too?”
“Yeah, she is,” Logan barely said. Laura sighed sadly before casting her eyes downward and biting her lip a bit more.
“You need something else?” Logan finally asked.
“No,” she said simply.
“You sure you’re good?”
“Si,” she said. Finally, he stood, coughing a bit harder into his arm. The sudden jolt had done it to him. Before he found his way to her doorway, however, he heard her small voice, and that same gnawing word, again.
“Daddy?” she asked. Logan stopped, hand on the door frame.
“Yeah Laura?” he said, turning back around.
“Eres un buen hombre bajo todo,” she said quietly. Logan caught every other word, but he realized that maybe what she had muttered wasn’t meant for him.
“Thanks, kid,” he said simply, before quietly closing the door behind him.
--
The Bronco struggled a bit as it made its way tiredly up the gravel road. Logan drove carefully, intent on finding the right address at the edge of the lake based only on a roughly sketched, hand-drawn map. As Cicadas filled the air with their humming, the sun had started to set and now the sky glowed a warm orange, like it usually did before twilight. Logan and Laura had stuck around Hay River for the past couple of weeks, and as August had turned into September, the evenings were cool enough to where Logan was sure to keep thicker jackets in the car for them both, healing factors be damned.
Logan had been told school for Laura wouldn’t start until nearly a month from now, the end of September, and he knew she was getting restless in the little place without anything else to do. During the times Logan left for another repair gig, he would leave her downstairs with Kay. Laura hardly ever spoke to anyone in town, let alone the older woman, but they somehow seemed to get along just fine. Laura was often content to look through old junk for hours, sometimes hanging on to a random record or collectible to proudly show Logan once he returned home. Logan often half-heartedly feigned surprise or praise, even though usually the old stuff made him feel uneasy. Mementos to a time that had passed were always dangerous; the potential of memories acting like vortexes much more likely.
Finally, during a conversation with Kay after picking up Laura about a week ago, Kay casually mentioned the presence of a lake house that had been for sale for a long while, although it was in need of extensive repairs and no one much up this way had the kind of money around to properly remodel it. Logan didn’t either, but something about the mention of the house had made him curious, which is why he had dragged Laura along on this weekend expedition, hoping, at the very least, the journey into the wilderness might do them both some good.
“How do you say ‘green’?” Laura asked, pulling her eyes off the hand-drawn map and looking over to him.
“Verde,” Logan grumbled, partially annoyed she was breaking his concentration while navigating.
“Water?” she asked. “Agua,” Logan answered.
“Glasses?” Again, he answered. “Gafas,” he smirked at this last one, realizing he got three right in a row, maybe in all-time first.
“You’re giving me the easy ones,” he accused, looking over to her and momentarily forgetting why he was supposed to be in a grouchy mood.
“You need easy ones,” Laura quipped, dramatically rolling her eyes in a way a girl nearing twelve only could. “You forget the hard ones.”
“Alright, then,” Logan began, ready to initiate the new development in the game he prided himself in thinking up the other day. “What’s eight times three?” Laura shot him a look. She much preferred playing teacher over student, but usually she came around and answered the question anyway, even going to the point of a few nights last week of writing out multiplication tables on her own.
“Twenty-four,” she said.
“Three times four?” he asked.
“Easy,” she said as she smiled widely. “Twelve.”
“Eight times seven?” Logan smirked, knowing he had thrown her a harder one. Laura bit her lip a little, and then another smile as she figured it out.
“Fifty-six,” she said.
“Good.” Logan looked to her, a little proud. She’d soon be doing algebra with the rate she was kicking math’s ass.
Then, just up ahead, as the lake came into view, and the house did as well, Logan’s hope grew. It stood just at the edge. It was a decent size, he guessed two or three bedrooms. The white siding needed pressure washing, but it was the deck that impressed him. The front of the house opened up to it, and the deck stretched toward the water, long and wide.
As Logan pulled the car into the gravel drive, they both got out quickly, Laura eager to be in nature once more and Logan intent on giving the house a closer look. He saw Laura make a beeline for the water, and he shouted out after her as the sun set in front of them on the lake.
“Don’t wander off too far, Laura. And don’t get wet. I don’t wanna deal with muddy boots and shit.” She waved him off with her hand, but her back was already toward him as she waded closer to the lip of the lake. Meanwhile, Logan turned, taking in the place slowly, offering his respect while he looked it up and down.
It was better than he thought it would be. By first glance, he could tell the foundation was sturdy and the siding wasn’t rotting. He noted, solemnly, that it would likely need a new roof, and he was sure the inside was outdated. But it had potential. Logan steadily ran a hand over his face, the new stubble on his chin something he couldn’t quite get used to. He had shaven for the first time in over a year, resolutely back to his signature look, although he had grumbled a bit vainly at the obvious flecks of gray that still adorned the mutton chops. The intent behind the change was simply a plan to look a little more put together for work, just so he didn’t scare off potential clients. But Laura had a field day the morning he had walked out of the bathroom smelling like shaving cream and feeling more than a little self-conscious. And all day he had grumpily regretted doing it, as he became more and more annoyed with the goofy grin she kept throwing at him every time he looked up at her.
“Wolverine,” she had whispered happily when she first saw him.
“Don’t fucking kid yourself,” is all he had said, but, for a brief minute, he wondered who he was reminding.
Logan looked back over to the house, chewing on its potential. He was months, possibly years away from affording the place— he was crestfallen when Kay had regrettably mentioned that it was upwards of forty thousand dollars, even in this condition— but Logan couldn’t help thinking about how it was just remote enough to feel secluded and unencumbered, and just close enough that Laura could make it to school relatively easily and safely, even during the winter. Slowly, Logan began plotting out the nascent beginning of a remodeling plan in his mind, mapping out a timeline and mentally doing the math of the remodeling costs.
After some time had passed and it grew darker, he tired from the mental work, and was resigned to stand on the deck, resting a bit after climbing the stairs. He leaned on the wall of the house, watching the last of the sun set in the distance. It took him a while to make out Laura below, but he could see she was idly whapping some reeds down by the water with a stick she had found.
A place like this might help the wilder things in them both, Logan realized. She had dutifully followed his rules, playing extremely nice and not once voluntarily using her claws for anything since their conversation in Alberta. He knew though if he were being completely honest, that denying what she was and completely forbidding her from ever embodying the spirit within would also be the wrong thing to do. Out here, at least, maybe he could teach her how to fish, or even to hunt. Something to relieve the tension she would undoubtedly face, something to help her become all of what she was likely going to be.
In all of this, Logan finally, for the first time in a long time, saw a potential future. A future at peace. As he stood, smiling a bit at the thought as the last of the light fell out of the sky, it was then, after weeks of absence, the voice was suddenly in his head again, the rectangular door bright and fiery in his mind. His smile instantly faded.
And what if it doesn’t last?
Logan said nothing, closing his eyes, taking a steady breath, trying hard to shut her out.
You’re still dying.
“Stop it, Marie,” he said, closing his eyes.
You’re dying, Logan. Or had you managed to forget?
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Chapter End Notes:
I uploaded this thing for a hot minute this afternoon, not realizing I had copied and pasted the draft, which was, of course, lacking a pivotal scene essential to the whole damn chapter. Now, it’s right. My deepest apologies if you read the first version. That’s what happens when you start waking up at 5am to write nowadays because you can’t wait to get back at it. ;)
Ya’ll know what I’ve got planned for this weekend. Gonna try to get 10 to you by Monday. Thank you so much for the support so far. I was feeling a little vulnerable after writing some tough scenes in 8 and you guys made me feel so much better.
Ya’ll know what I’ve got planned for this weekend. Gonna try to get 10 to you by Monday. Thank you so much for the support so far. I was feeling a little vulnerable after writing some tough scenes in 8 and you guys made me feel so much better.