CasualWanderer82

The road unrolled like a Sunday tie, crooked in places, respectable enough if you didn't stare too long. Cash drove one-handed, the way men who grew up steering tractors and arguments do. His other hand occupied Daisy's thermos lid, which had already been promoted to cup, communion by caffeine. Jackson had his feet braced on the glove box, his ankles crossed, and a paper sack of biscuits between his knees like a sacrament he planned to share once he was sure Cash remembered how to be gratef

Daisy is the embodiment of unconditional love. And empathy. Daisy came to me and (to us) at the right time. I can only hope Daisy isn't just a fantasy of mine and that somewhere out there, there are people like her, making this world a little better. One biscuit at a time.

As always, I appreciate your words and commentary. Two more chapters to go before we close this tale. Hopefully, I won't disappoint.

CATCH! 😜

The courthouse had the Sunday smell, wax and old paper, but the room was all weekday spine. Benches in two neat ranks, an aisle like a river running between two versions of the same town. On the right, suits black as a promise, haircuts you could set a watch by, Governor Whitlow himself, anointed in quiet with his signet ring flashing every time he adjusted a cuff. On the left, Willow Creek proper. Daisy's volunteers with hydrangea pins clipped to thrifted dresses, Mr. Peabody's

Welcome to "crazy".

Hot & Tangled. Not a bad title.

I absolutely adore what you said here.

Nothing wrong with a little loving "rage"...😏😅

As a reader of mine and friend said: I'm changing my rulebook with this one and presenting the story and its ending as a "sweet fantasy" for a change. I think the world I built and these characters deserve it. 😉

And what a road trip it will be! 😉

I'm the one who should thank you for reading, and giving this story a chance.

We should all be so lucky to have people like these in our lives.

Daisy runs on "empathy". We should all take notes.

Morning pressed its face to the shop's windows like a curious child, pale and patient, laying a bright coin on Jackson's shoulder where the throw had slid. He surfaced slowly, the way you rise from a warm river, limbs heavy, lungs easy. Cash was behind him, one hand tucked under Jackson's ribs like he'd finally decided the world didn't get to drop this boy again without going through him first. They lay a moment in the hush, cataloguing the thousand small proofs that the last forty-eight ho

Robert from "Wicked Games" and Brandon from "Seagull's Bay".

I love them, too!

I'm glad you noticed. I was trying something different with it. ☺️

I've always tried, to the best of my ability, to find redeeming qualities in all my characters. To date, only two characters I've written have failed that test. Colton isn’t one of those characters. 😉

I think you spelled that wrong...😜

Me too...me too. But I'm sure he'll be alright in the end. Hopefully. 😉

Thanks, @austinbiguy more to come!

Cash's palm stayed up, patient. Jackson laid his own in it, and that was the whole decision. They met in the soft mouth of lamplight and sawdust, bodies finding the old geometry like a song remembered on the second verse. Cash's hand slid to the small of Jackson's back and fit there like it had been measured. The other framed his jaw, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth as if to tidy a truth that had got too bright. "C'mere," Cash murmured, and the words came slow as syrup. Jack

I KNOW! 💙

Dear @long1jo I love that you’re this fired up, truly. A few gentle counters, with a wink: Jackson didn’t drop Blake in a weekend. He carried that love across five years, miles, injuries, rules they wrote together. What finally breaks him isn’t a lack of patience, it’s the public pull-back at Willow House. Love that only survives in the dark is still a cage, even if it’s velvet-lined. On Evan: that night wasn’t a “forced” anything. Jackson negotiated it, Blake consented. It was an experiment born from Jackson trying (clumsily, hungrily) to keep them together and share control. Messy? Absolutely. Disgusting? That’s a perfectly valid personal viewpoint...but inside the story it was adult, consensual, and tender in its own chaotic way. (Also: it didn’t break any rule they’d set at the time.) “Go deeper into his insecurity and give him a chance.” We are going deeper! The story loves him enough to show both the wound and the harm it causes. Accountability and compassion are not opposites here. And for what it’s worth: you’re allowed to be Team Blake till your hat sweats through. You’re allowed to be furious at Jackson. That argument lives inside the story on purpose. Root for your cowboy. I'm rooting for him too!