Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
To think, that’d been only a few months ago.
Our second season of Nomads was taking off. Our podcast had gained local popularity, and we’d gone from weekly, prerecorded episodes to a daily morning chat when people were on their way to work. We had a website. We had a few moving boxes full of merchandise that we offered as giveaways every now and then. Across the country, there were people who had tumblers, T-shirts, ball caps, and pens that read “I’m Off Topic with Roe Finlay and Jake Denver.” We had a brand. We were getting recognized sometimes when we went out.
And it was just gonna keep growing. Three hundred thousand likes on Facebook was gonna become more. A hundred and fifty thousand followers on Instagram would turn into two hundred and three hundred thousand eventually.
With the third season, we had three major sponsorships waiting for us to showcase their products in our production. That whiteboard was going to be jam-packed with ideas as soon as we went into preproduction.
As if all this wasn’t enough, we were working on a couple new projects too. Soon, we’d film the morning show too. Roe wanted us on all platforms. And for the first time ever, we were shooting a nature special in another part of the world. A four-episode miniseries about Norway, Sweden, and Finland. We were off at the end of April.
“There you are.”
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Roe in the doorway.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and scratched my bicep absently. “Just thinkin’ about how far we’ve come.”
He smiled and walked over to me. “Overwhelming, right?”
To put it mildly.
We stood there side by side and looked at the numbers on the board.
Our lives had changed irrevocably, and our futures were fused together. Something that brought me a lot of relief. I couldn’t picture a life without Roe by my side anymore. So…I understood why Nikki thought it was more than friendship—because, in a way, it was. I’d been floundering before. Now I had someone to share everything with. Deep down, I didn’t give two shits about how many people listened to us in the morning; I just loved that moment for myself. We’d sit at that table and shoot the shit, drink coffee, give a lunch recommendation here and there, discuss an article or two we’d read, and give our listeners a heads-up on what was to come for us.
“I can’t fucking wait to see Norway,” Roe murmured.
“Me either.” We’d started devouring all the information we could find. But my favorite part was probably that it would be just the two of us. Now that Nomads was turning into a larger production, I had a feeling I would jump at every opportunity to do something with only him. The Big North was a project Ortiz had mentioned sort of in passing; it hadn’t been Roe’s idea or anything like it. It was 100% a network concept, with a script, and I’d been the one to throw our names in the ring.
We wouldn’t be the only filmmakers on the project, though. Roe and I would cover spring. Three other crews had been chosen for summer, fall, and winter.
With projects like these taking up all my time, I felt confident I could leave my past behind me. I didn’t wanna waste another second worrying about suppressed memories or just how much my mother had fucked me up.
“Come on, let’s get back to the others.” I draped an arm around Roe’s shoulders and ushered him out. No longer cold, I skipped the notion of finding a hoodie altogether. We returned to the patio, where the Finlays were winding down after our long day.
We’d had pizza and beer, and then after Nikki, Colin, and Haley had taken off, we’d brought out chips, more alcohol, and cranked up the volume on the music a bit.
“We were just saying you should have a firepit here,” Kyle mentioned. “Shouldn’t be too complicated to build one.”
That was a good idea. “Concrete cylinder block should work.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’.” Greer nodded. “Leave the walls thick enough and make a tabletop of wood or stone.”
Sounded perfect to me.
“I’ll leave it to my gardener.” Roe clapped a hand to my back, and we all chuckled.
*
“Noooo! Ha-wee, Dada, noo!”
I grinned against his belly and blew raspberries to the sound of Bear’s squealing. No sweeter sound in the morning, eh? My boy was all ruckus, sleep lines, and pajamas. Impressive bed head too, kinda like his old man.
There was method to my ball cap collection madness. I didn’t fucking have time to fix my hair and shit.
“I don’t know if he’s yelling for his favorite auntie Haley or he’s hungry.” My sister knew how to make an entrance. She arrived with coffee and an agenda.
“He’s hungry.” I smiled and let the boy down on the floor again, and he took off at the speed of light toward Haley. “Mornin’.”