Stranded

1 | Get Away

**Peter's POV**

"How's the new novel coming? Are you gonna meet the deadline?"

"Get off my back; of course I'll meet the deadline. I haven't missed one yet, have I?"

"Peter, chill. I am your boss, I'm entitled to check on the progress of my writers."

"You're also my brother, Joe, and you know better than anyone else what my process is."

"Fine, I get it, give the great novelist his space." He replies in a mocking tone.

"Fuck off, Joe!" I'm going up to my cabin tonight. I should have a rough draft for you by Monday."

"Thank you. Was that so hard?"

I hang up on him, I don't even justify his question with a response. He's just impatient to publish my next book so he can watch the profits roll in. Greedy bastard.

I've been writing all my life. It's something that just came naturally to me. Telling stories helped me to escape reality as a kid and when I discovered I was actually good enough to make a career out of it, it seemed like the perfect choice. Having an older brother in publishing may have helped as well.

A love of books was instilled in my brother and I from a very young age. Our mom worked at the local public library and we would spend every afternoon there with her after school. We were always very close with our mom, I think we both felt a sense of obligation to protect her after my abusive father left us when I was just six years old.

I like to think that she would have been very proud of Joe and I for the men we grew up to be. She died of cancer shortly after I graduated high school, which left Joe and I to put ourselves through college. It wasn't easy, but it was a promise we both made to her before she died and there was no way we were going to break our promise to her.

After I hung up on Peter, I shut down my laptop and grabbed a duffle bag to pack for the weekend. I didn't need much, some warm clothes, toiletries and my laptop was all I needed when I went up to my cabin. It was the perfect place to write: quiet, secluded, with no interpretations. The cabin itself was pretty rustic, one bedroom, one bath, with minimal furnishings: bed, dresser, couch, table. I didn't need much. It had running water and electricity, but no tv or phone and my cell phone didn't get any reception up there. It also had the most amazing view from the back porch. It faced the east and I loved watching the sunrise over the rockies, reflecting off the small fishing pond.

Due to it's remote location, I needed to stop and grab a few groceries on my way out of town and I'd be all set for my weekend away. But I needed to leave soon, a winter storm was due to hit before nightfall and I wanted to get there before they started closing roads.

About an hour later, I had my laptop, duffle bag and more than enough food to get me through the weekend all in my car and I was on the road. It was only about 150 miles to my cabin, but the drive was beautiful.

I pulled up to my cabin around dinner time and began unloading my car. I decided to go ahead and make some dinner before I would start writing again. I'm much more focused when my stomach isn't growling at me.

I pulled out a frying pan and seared a steak while I threw a potato into the oven. Cooking was another thing mom insisted we learn from a young age. She said our future spouse would appreciate it. Considering neither Joe or I were married or in a relationship, that left me to wonder if she didn't waste her time teaching us this skill. Although, the smell of this steak was making me second-guess that.

After I finished eating, I settled into the couch with my laptop to continue writing.

All of my published works thus far have been mysteries or thrillers and this one was no different. I had completed well over half the book so far, but recently had encountered some writer's block, so this weekend away was exactly what I needed.

Despite my success, I tried to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. I didn't use my full name on my books; you wouldn't find a picture of me in the back of my books and even though my brother hated it, I refused to do public appearances or signings. He insisted that I would be much more successful if my fans knew more about me, but that's not why I write. I don't write for the fame. I do it because I love it and because my fans love it. That's all that matters to me.

I had recently received a lot of fan mail; readers anxious for my next book to be released. This was my biggest driving force to complete my book. This is exactly why I needed an uninterrupted weekend away...all by myself.

Knock knock knock