Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Knowing it would be strange for him, I used my earnings to have my grandparents’ bedroom furniture removed and put in the attic. I bought a whole new bedroom suite for Jared and redecorated the room. He cried quietly when he saw it. Jared had rarely cried in all the years we’d known each other, but we’d both been extremely emotional these last few months since Grandpa’s death. And poor Jared had been with him. Had held him in his arms as he died. Heart attack. No time to save him.
The two of us were like a raw wound; the slightest thing reopened the pain and tears.
For not the first time, I questioned leaving Jared so soon after. It had only been six months since we lost the only real father we’d ever known.
“I can stay,” I whispered.
Jared swallowed hard but shook his head. “He’d want us both to start living again.”
Pushing down the tears in my throat, I nodded and gave him a wee wave. “Off I go, then.”
He smiled. “Go write another bestseller, superstar.”
“Talk soon?”
“Call me as soon as you get there.”
“Love you, Jar.”
His mouth trembled and he looked away, composing himself, before he turned back to me. His words sounded like stone under sandpaper. “I love you, too, Sarah.”
Afraid I might burst into painful sobs, I hurried into the car and slammed the door shut.
About a year after Jared arrived, he got a phone call from his mum that had set him off. He was acting like a shit to everyone, and he did something stupid and dangerous with the tractor. Yet Grandpa didn’t yell at him, didn’t rage. He knew something was eating away at Jared, and at dinner that night, he’d told him that he could destroy the whole farm if he liked, but it wouldn’t stop Grandpa from loving him.
Jared turned as white as a sheet, and it was the first and only time I saw my cousin cry—until our grandfather died. Grandpa had got up from the table and pulled Jared into his arms, holding him tightly as he promised him nothing could make him stop loving him. Jared cried like a small child and returned the sentiment, though the words sounded wrenched from him.
He’d never been able to say those three words easily, but Grandpa had made it safe for him. For both of us.
Knowing that man who’d protected and loved us as fiercely as any good father would was now gone from the world still tore through me like a serrated knife.
I hit the gas and drove faster down the drive than I should because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I would leave the farm or Jared behind.
Three
THEO
For the first time in months, my fingers itched to type. To transport the ideas and scenes in my head onto the page. Except, also for the first time, they were inspired by someone else’s story. Many of the scenes were already written by someone else, but I could visualize how they’d work on-screen and which part of the dialogue was perfect for adaptation and the parts we could take out without affecting the story.
I dropped my phone and stared unseeing at the bedroom wall. Well, I had wanted the little mouse to surprise me. She’d shocked the fuck out of me. After devouring her first book in one night, I’d downloaded the next book onto the e-reader app on my phone. Then the next and the next and the next. I’d read the first nine in her series this past week. According to the online retailer, the Juno McLeod series had eleven books so far.
When I wasn’t reading in the library, I read during meals at the dining table as I binged the atmospheric world Sarah created in her Juno McLeod books. The only time I took a break was to use the rower in the gym and to get a sexual health check at the clinic in Thurso, thanks to the timely reminder I’d set on my phone.
Otherwise, I was all about Juno.
Juno, a detective inspector, was based in Dundee, the crime capital of Scotland, but her cases took her around the country. A main plot wove throughout the entire series while a secondary subplot opened and then was resolved by the end of each new book. Juno’s primary antagonist was the serial killer she was hunting, and the dark connection between them was intriguing and nuanced and, to be frank, bloody brilliant. That alone would enthrall audiences. But so would the intelligent, complex, funny Juno. The stories were gritty. And Sarah often explored real-world social issues many would find relatable.
Moreover, she took the reader all over Scotland, and her prose brought the country to life. So much so, I envisioned epic cinematography via drone camerawork.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered to myself. Sarah’s depth of writing was astonishing. It would be fantastic on-screen if the right person wrote and directed it. Also, casting would be essential. The right actor for Juno was pivotal. She was in her late thirties and had the confidence and realism that came with age. I could already think of a few actors who might fit the bill.