The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

the dream of a lifetime to have my name next to Scarlett Stanton’s? Sure. But it was about way more than that. It wasn’t a lie—the woman had been one of my idols and was, to this day, still my mother’s favorite author…and that included me.

“If taking my name off this manuscript is what it takes to assure you I’m here for the book and not the credit, I’ll do it.” I answered slowly, making sure she knew I meant it.

Her eyes flared with surprise, and her lips parted. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.” My jaw flexed once. Twice. This was no different than not documenting a climb, right? I would know I’d done it, even if no one else did. At least I’d be the first one to get my hands on the manuscript, even before Adam or Chris. “But I would like permission to tell my family, since I already did.”

A sparkle of laughter lit up her face, but she quickly schooled her features. “If, and that’s if, I agree to let you finish it, I would demand to have final approval over the manuscript.”

My grip tightened, digging into the fabric of the chair.

Adam sputtered.

Chris mumbled a swear word.

Ava’s attention swung from her daughter’s face to mine like we were a tennis match.

Even with all that going on, it somehow felt like Georgia and I were the only people in the room. There was a charge between us—a connection. I’d felt it in the bookstore, and it was stronger now. Whether it was the challenge, the attraction, the possibility of the manuscript, or something else, I wasn’t sure, but it was there, as tangible as an electrical current.

“We can definitely discuss editorial input, but Noah has had final manuscript approval in his contract for his last twenty books,” Adam countered softly, knowing it was one of my hard limits. Once I knew where a story was going, I let the characters take me there, come hell or editorial high water.

But this wasn’t my story, was it? This was her great-grandmother’s legacy.

“Fine. I’ll agree to being second-in-command of the ship.” It went against every bone in my body, but I’d do it.

Both Chris and Adam gawked at me.

“This once,” I added, glancing toward my publishing team. My agent would lose his shit if I set a precedent here.

Slowly, very slowly, Georgia leaned back in her chair. “I have to read it first, then talk to Helen—Gran’s agent.”

I mentally cursed but nodded. So much for being first. “I’m staying at the Roaring Creek Bed and Breakfast, and I’ll leave the address—”

“I know where it is.”

“Right. I’ll stay through the end of the week. If we work out a contract before then, I’ll take the manuscript and the letters back to New York with me and get started.” Good thing I liked rock climbing, because there was plenty of that to do around here while she decided. As much as I hated to admit it, this deal was now out of my hands.

“Agreed.” She nodded. “And you can put your name on it.”

My heart leaped. Guess I’d passed her test.

Chris, Adam, and Ava let out a collective sigh.

Georgia’s eyes flew wide, and her head snapped toward her mother. “Wait.”

Every muscle in my body locked.

“What letters?”

Chapter Three

July 1940

Middle Wallop, England

Well, this was a problem she should have foreseen. Scarlett’s gaze swept the platform, searching one last time just to be sure, her sister beside her doing the same. The train station was rather empty for a Sunday afternoon, making it obvious that Mary had forgotten to pick them up as promised. Disappointing, yet predictable.

“Surely she’ll be along in a minute,” Constance suggested, flashing a forced smile. Her sister had always been the more optimistic of them.

“Let’s check outside,” Scarlett suggested, looping her arm through Constance’s as they carried their small luggage cases off the platform. Their leave had only been for two days, but time always seemed to crawl for Scarlett when they were home.

Leave was hard to come by—especially at their rank—in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, but as usual, their father had pulled strings that neither of them had appreciated. Strings he liked to pull often, as if she and Constance were his personal puppets.

In a way, they still were.

When Baron and Lady Wright requested their presence, their daughters were expected to attend them, uniform or not. But those same strings were the ones he’d pulled to assure his daughters would be stationed together, and for that, Scarlett was immeasurably thankful. Besides, a weekend of listening to her mother attempt to plan her life out was well worth it when it meant Constance was able to see Edward. Her sister had fallen in love with the son of a family friend years ago. They’d all grown up together during their summers at Ashby, and she couldn’t have been happier for her sister. At least one of them would get to be happy.

Her hat shielded her eyes from the sun as they left the station, but there wasn’t much to be done about the stifling late July heat, especially in uniform.

“Honestly, I keep hoping she’ll be a bit more punctual,” Constance remarked quietly as people passed by on the pavement. Constance may have been noted as the more publicly reserved of the two of them, but she never withheld her opinion from Scarlett.

Her mother, on the other hand, thought Constance simply didn’t have opinions.

“There was a dance last night.” She gave Constance a knowing look and sighed. “We’d better get walking if we want to sign in on time.” There was nothing else to be done about it.

“Right.”

They grasped the handles of their luggage and began the long walk toward their station. Thankfully, they’d both packed light, because they hadn’t even made it to the corner, and Scarlett was already exhausted, weighed down by the news her mother had delivered.

“I’m not going to marry him,” she announced with a jerk of her chin as they made their way down the pavement.

“Feel better