Page 3 of Stormi & Sebastian (Shorts #1)

Stormi’s POV

It had been almost a month since I left and ghosted my whole family, and about two weeks, a little more, since I put in an offer on the A-frame after checking that I could, in fact, renovate and add the porch onto the loft area. We had a host of people coming out to look at the house, to make sure that it could happen. A reputable construction crew and getting an inspector to come to inspect the home were the first things I needed to find after we toured the home. I asked the older lady who worked at the motel which crew and inspector she liked best. So, I called them. They said yes, so the next call was to zoning to make sure it wouldn’t be an issue for any reason.

Once zoning was approved for the upstairs porch, which took another week and a half, I checked about adding solar panels too. They said because it was so cloudy here, it might not work, and I might want to keep the electric company on as a backup, so I scrapped that idea. I would stick with the electric company. If the weather improved for more than a few months, I would invest in solar. Not right now, though.

I put in a cash offer on the house, and the seller accepted almost right away. Once the offer was accepted and the keys were in my hands, as of yesterday at eight in the morning they were, I called everyone to go ahead and start on the construction. It shouldn’t take long at all. A week, to possibly two weeks tops. Then I could start working in total peace. Unlike the motel I was staying at. Not that I didn’t work well here, but the walls are very thin, and let us just say that…some of the things I’ve heard will give me nightmares for the rest of my life.

They started that night.

As I sat in a local coffee shop, working away on my laptop, my phone rang, bringing me out of the creative groove I had been in for about two hours now, since first sipping my hot bean water that fed my soul. I saw it was Emily, my amazing boss and maternal figure, since all this nonsense started.

“Hi, Emily. What’s going on?”

I heard her sigh on the other end.

“It’s not good, Storm. Your ex has been showing up here for a week and a half, demanding to know where you are, if we knew where you were. Raven’s here with me.”

What the hell?

“Hey, girl.”

I heard her, a little further away from the receiver. What the hell was going on there?

“Seems he’s been showing up at her house also. He’s desperate to find you,”

Emily continued to fill me in on my crazy ex. Why on earth could he not just be happy with my twin? She was the perfect one, wasn’t she? That’s why he did what he did. I let out a bitter laugh. Where was this attention when he was fucking my sister? Where was this commitment to talk to me about things then? I knew I’d never get an answer, I believed, even if it was the truth. There was no trust left in him. And I knew there was definitely no trust when it comes to Story.

She was dead to me.

“Tell him I left the state. Tell him you contacted me through my work email, and since I’m working 100% remotely, you’re not sure of my exact location.”

I offered up as suggestions.

“He’s worried about you and the baby.”

I heard Raven chip in, oh, so helpfully. I rolled my eyes so hard I think I saw a glimpse of my brain.

“Rave, tell him you spoke to me and I’ve lost the baby due to the stress of finding out about him and my slut of a sister. I’m sorry for putting this on you both.”

I sighed, feeling genuinely bad about leaving my friends to handle him and his increasingly desperate pleas of forgiveness, and needing to find myself. I thought she was what he wanted. Or does he just want someone to give him a baby? Has she cheated on him already? I couldn’t help but feel a massive headache coming on.

“I’m sorry, you guys, I’m at a little café here, and all this talk of him is giving me a headache. I’m trying to hammer out these two designs that are due by next week. I just…Could you…”

“I know,”

Emily’s voice came across the line, calm, understanding.

“I just wanted to make you aware of it and see what you’d like to do. We’re on your side in this. If you don’t want to talk about him, we won’t. We’ll take care of any more issues we have with him here. You just focus on putting out amazing designs.”

The porch add-on took only a week and a half to finish, and was ready to decorate. It was mainly a waiting game for the French doors to be delivered and material to put on a new black tin roof. In the time it took for the doors to get delivered, I found someone who could paint the entire outside of the house black to match the roof, completed three orders from customers, and found a new coffee house to get my brew from.

The house was looking awesome, and now that it was finished, I was finally able to move in and get out of the motel. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could listen to Ethel getting railed by the night janitor. I started looking at thrift shops to find furniture, ordered a bed online, and hit the fabric store for pillows and blanket materials. Projects, learning new things, that was what was going to keep me sane.

In what felt like no time at all, I had managed to furnish my home with pieces that felt very bohemian and cozy. I even managed to find an outdoor patio set to put on my covered porch off the loft area I’d turned into my little workspace. It was cozy with a chaise, lots of pillows, and blankets, all homemade, and some did not look too pretty.

I checked auction sites and apps for rugs and anything else I may have needed for the house. I knew Christmas was coming soon, and though I didn’t feel like celebrating, it was my favorite holiday. I found a tree at a secondhand store, bought some all-white lights, and black-and-white decorations. I realized I had a lot more time on my hands lately, so I started writing on my laptop, just for shits and giggles at first.

I wrote under a pen name, not wanting anyone to know my actual name as a writer. Not with the family I had. I didn’t want them to be any part of that. I’d also decided that, while I changed the names of the people who betrayed me to try to keep as much anonymity as possible, I tried to change some of the situations so they didn’t scream.

“This was my family”

because I knew if my family read my self-discovery book I was working on, which I was passionate about. They would know it was me writing it.

I chose the pen name ‘Artemis Jones’ and tried to keep as many situations vague so as not to draw them specifically to the conclusion that it was loosely based on my life.

Once I’d written the novel, which took about four months, I decided I wanted to publish it and see if I could gain any traction from it. The first novel I self-published on Amazon was a smut novel. The second one I had been working on and completed was an MC romance, and the third was going to be this book I had just finished. It was just after the holidays, was part one of my journey of self-discovery and healing after the trauma and betrayal I experienced. I touched on therapy and using writing as a tool. Plus, I surrounded myself in nature, letting myself be inspired by what I saw out my windows every day. I took photos on my old camera, and by old, I mean one that wasn’t digital. Turns out, I have a knack for photography.

I’d sent out the first two chapters to publishing houses all over the country, wanting to make sure that I was fully covered just in case my family did think it was a book about them. I got two calls back almost immediately. One, from Ready-To-Go Publishing. The man seemed to think it was beneath him, but he’d called because the editor who read it really liked it and insisted he give me a call. I could tell he lacked interest as it was the female editor asking all the questions. He was not someone I wanted to work with on this.

The second call I got was from ReadItAndWeep Publishing. The man introduced himself as Sebastian Stone, owner and editor of the publishing house. I had never heard of it, but he said it was a local publishing house. I liked that fact. Over the phone, he asked questions, seeming very eager to read more and possibly publish parts one and two when they came out.

“This is just brilliant writing. Especially the parts that encourage people to seek help from a professional when they’re struggling mentally after such a betrayal. And the ways you went about discovering who you are, they’re affordable for the average person, and not just, ‘I moved across the country and then traveled around the world. Not that that book wasn’t amazing in its own right, but not everyone can do that.”

“I totally understand that. While I have a little in savings, it’s all that I saved when I was younger and working. I wanted to connect with nature and try things in my own little community that I knew I had an interest in, but never tried. I found some of the things I thought I’d really like, I didn’t, and some of the things I wasn’t sure about, I ended up loving. Like photography. I’d been told it would never go anywhere, same with my writing.”

I smiled. He was a conversationalist, even over the phone.

“Well, whoever said that obviously was just jealous of the raw talent you possess. I’d love to meet you for coffee. This week, if you’re available?”

“I’d love to. What day works for you?”

I asked, pulling out my planner.

“How does Wednesday at eleven sound? At ‘Bean Thinking’ downtown?”

I smiled. This man was actually interested in my book.

“That sounds great. See you then.”

I looked at his picture on his company’s website, and let’s just say…

Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

Let’s do this.