Sarah’s Story

While I ended up expanding and using a lot of this later, this was how Sarah’s story was originally told in the very first draft.

I ended up dropping this version because it felt too dark for this part of the book and created a conflict that didn’t quite fit the pacing. I eventually put Sarah's story back into the book later on in a way that felt much more natural.

I really wanted the New York scenes to feel fun and uplifting, and putting this heavy moment right here really dragged down the energy of the baseball game and the scenes that followed..

In their remaining time in New York, Allison got to see a much broader, wilder view of what a publicity tour actually was. Because they were staying in the city for a while, Briarwood Press had been able to pull out all the stops and book some massive public appearances.

Tonight, they were at Yankee Stadium, where Ethan was getting ready to throw out the ceremonial first pitch before a game against the Cleveland Guardians. The Yankees' PR team had gifted them matching pinstripe jerseys with Piper emblazoned across the back. Ethan had spent the afternoon pacing the hotel room, grumbling that he felt like a total traitor to his home state, so Allison had compromised by suggesting he wear a Guardians t-shirt hidden beneath the heavy pinstripe wool in silent protest.

Now, Ethan was standing out on the mound, looking incredibly small against the massive expanse of the diamond. Allison sat perched on the dugout railing, cheering him on with the rest of the stadium.

Ethan was such an unlikely combination of contradictory traits that she genuinely had no idea if he was about to throw a strike or drill the mascot in the head. He had slipped out to Central Park by himself earlier in the day to practice, flatly refusing to let her come along, so she had absolutely no idea what to expect.

As Ethan adjusted his cap, the stadium speakers suddenly roared to life, blasting traditional Scottish bagpipes across the Bronx. The crowd swelled, thousands of faces leaning forward, curious to see if this fantasy writer actually had an arm.

The result turned out to be slightly inconclusive. Ethan wound up and threw it right over the plate, but it floated a little higher than the strike zone, and the velocity wasn't going to impress a single scout in the building. Still, it could have gone far worse; it didn't bounce, and the catcher didn't have to dive for it.

When he jogged back into the dugout, breathing heavily, he immediately wrapped his arms around Allison, lifting her slightly off the step. Right on cue, a flashing bulb popped nearby—a stadium PR photographer snapping a candid shot of the two of them wrapped together.

Ethan’s posture instantly went rigid. He let go of Allison and scowled heavily at the photographer until the man awkwardly shuffled away.

As they headed down the concrete tunnel back toward the luxury suites, Allison looked at him, noticing the tight set of his jaw. “What’s wrong? You did great.” 

“They really should have asked if you were okay with them taking that picture,” Ethan muttered, his voice echoing off the cinderblock walls.

“I don’t mind,” Allison said, bumping her shoulder against his. “You have to admit, I look amazing in pinstripes.”

Ethan’s defensive expression cracked, a small smile breaking through. “Well, that part is definitely true.”

“So what’s the issue?”

Ethan stopped walking, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “We haven’t really talked about... this. The logistics of it.”

Allison tilted her head. “What is there to talk about?”

“The press tends to take an uncomfortable, highly intrusive interest in whoever I am seen in public with,” Ethan said quietly. “Especially when it’s a woman.”

Allison let out a soft laugh, trying to keep it light. “Why? How many heartbroken supermodels did you leave behind in Scotland, Highlander?"

Ethan’s eyes darkened, the playful energy evaporating in an instant. “No supermodels. And it wasn't in Scotland. It was back home in Ohio.”

The shift in his tone made Allison’s smile fade. “What was her name?”

“Sarah,” Ethan said, leaning his back against the cool concrete wall of the tunnel. “We dated in college. I ended up dragging her along in my wake when Beneath the Highland Sky first blew up and the media circus started.”

"What happened?"

"The internet happened," Ethan said, his voice flat and blunt. "People started stalking her online. They dug up her old high school social media accounts. Some freelance photographer followed her to a dentist appointment just to get a picture of her looking messy in sweatpants for a clickbait article. She wasn't a public figure. She was just a girl who liked a guy who happened to write stories. One night, she just looked at me and said she couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't fair to her. She was right.”

“What happened to her after that?”

Ethan had to admit he didn’t know. He hadn't talked to her in some time.

Allison watched him, a heavy silence settling over the tunnel. "Is that why you let Briarwood Press build the whole Ethan Blackwood character?"

Ethan looked down at her, his eyes intensely serious. “Ethan Blackwood belongs to the public. He belongs on the Jumbotron. But the real stuff... the real stories, the real people... I keep them hidden where the cameras can't find them. Carol. Martin. Mom. And now you.”

Allison swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, forcing a confident shrug. “I’m a big girl, Crump. I knew what I signed up for when I took the job.”

Ethan looked at her for a long, heavy beat. “Did you?”

Allison deflated slightly, her gaze dropping to her sneakers as she had to admit the truth. “No. I guess not.”

Ethan nodded firmly, his hand sliding into his pocket but stopping before he pulled out his phone. He took a half-step closer to her. “Look, if you let me, I am happy to scream from the mountaintops…”

“Don’t you mean fog-covered moors?”

A faint smile cracked his serious expression. “Fine. I will happily scream from the fog-covered moors that you are my girlfriend. But only if you want me to, Hart. Otherwise, I’ll call Moira over at Briarwood right now and tell them to have the Yankees kill the photo before it ever hits the wire.”

Allison blinked, her professional instincts kicking in. “Hey, isn’t that my job?”

“Not this time.”

Allison considered it for a long moment, looking down the tunnel toward the bright, roaring stadium. She didn't want to be hidden away like a secret to be ashamed of. She wanted to stand beside him.“I can handle this,” she said, looking back up at him. 

Ethan searched her face, his brow furrowing. “Are you sure, Hart?”

===

Allison lowered her voice, whispering, “I guess you have seen the picture.”

Paige leaned into the frame, her face serious. “Girl. Everyone in the world has seen that picture.”

“Are you guys...?” Maya made a series of very intricate hand gestures, symbolizing some very rude things that Allison only understood about half of.

Allison flushed. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated good," Paige asked, "or complicated like you need a restraining order?”

Allison sighed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “Complicated good. Except…”

Paige looked very concerned, “Except…”

“This wasn’t planned. It just happened. And the press is already all over it. We don’t even know what it is yet, and they are already trying to define it for us.”