As the official go-to person for the D-Bags, Denny negotiated all details of the tour. When he called Kellan a couple weeks later with the information, I knew without a doubt that Denny was the absolute right person for the job. He understood the band, and he understood their desires. He fought to keep the venues on the smaller side—larger than Justin’s last tour, but smaller than Sienna’s—so the experience could be more personal for the fans and the bands. That meant less money for all parties—but Kellan didn’t care about the money, and Denny knew that. And money wasn’t really an issue anymore anyway. After the accident, the D-Bags’ album shot right past Sienna’s to land in the number one spot. And it stayed there. Financially, the D-Bags were going to be fine for quite a while.
Denny also helped me out with my career. Four weeks after the accident, when Kellan and I were in Ohio with my parents for Christmas, I finally let Denny read my book. I was a wreck when I e-mailed it to him. It was so much worse than letting Kellan read it. What I did to Denny in the book, in real life, was inexcusable. I didn’t see how he could possibly be okay reading it. When I didn’t hear back from him for three days, I thought my chest was going to explode from the anxiety. Kellan repeatedly told me it was going to be fine. My mother told me I was going to give myself unnecessary worry lines. I couldn’t help it, though. The book was so personal; a piece of my soul. Not getting a reaction to it right away was killing me. But maybe I deserved that.
On the day that I had originally been slated to get married, I was pacing the living room and wondering if Denny was ever going to call me when he finally did. I was so nervous about talking to him, I stepped outside. My parents’ yard was covered in snow, and everything outside was muffled and insulated. It was still early in the day, mid-morning, and there wasn’t a whole lot of movement in the neighborhood. It made Denny’s voice that much clearer in my ear.
“Hey, it’s me. I finally read your book.”
I sat on a bench on the porch and remembered sitting there with Denny, ages ago. “And . . . ?” I cringed, not sure if I wanted to hear his answer.
He paused. “And I think it’s great. I think you should publish it.”
Relief washed through me. “Are you sure? It’s so . . . personal. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”
Denny sighed, and for once there wasn’t any lingering pain in the sound. “I understand too, Kiera. Reading the book . . . I understand so much better what happened. I wish it hadn’t happened the way it had, and I know you feel the same, but I’m okay now, and this doesn’t bother me. Go. Publish it. Knock the socks off the literary world. You deserve it.”
As I leaned back on the bench, I told him, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Smiling, I added, “I guess I should get started on getting it published. So, Mr. Brilliant, you have any contacts in the publishing industry?”
I could hear Denny’s smile when he answered me. “Actually, I know you’d probably considered going with a traditional publisher right away, but what do you think about releasing it yourself first? Garner some attention before you dive into the traditional route? The minute I finished reading, I started looking into it, and I found a ton of articles and websites about self-publishing. If you want, I can help you with the technical side. Then I’ll help you market the book. That is my specialty, you know.”
“No, I hadn’t considered that, but I like the idea.” I paused to think it over, and he had a point. A story about cheating might be hard for me to sell to a publisher. Releasing it myself seemed like a great way to prove the story’s merits first. Still amazed by Denny, I shook my head. “You’d really do that for me?”
“Like you told me before, Kiera, I’d do anything for you. You and Kellan both.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that, so in the end I just thanked him. Then I ran into the house and tossed my arms around Kellan’s neck as I kissed every square inch of his face. “I’m going to be published!” I squealed.
Lacing his arms around me and gently sitting me beside him on the couch, he murmured, “I know. And you’re going to be huge.” His lips curled into an adorable pout. “When you’re famous and I’m a has-been, you’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”
Giggling, I threaded my fingers through his hair. “For one, thanks to you, I’m already famous. And secondly”—I tenderly placed my lips against his—“I’m never leaving you.” Pulling back, I lost myself in his amazing eyes. “And lastly, you’ll never be a has-been. Not to me.” Nope, not ever.
Two weeks later, Kellan and I said our goodbyes to our families and traveled back home to Seattle. Kellan was damn near giddy when our plane came to a complete stop. He immediately bounded to his feet and pulled me to mine. I wasn’t sure why he was so excited as we exited the first class section, a complimentary upgrade from Nick. I thought maybe Kellan was just happy to be returning to familiar stomping grounds, but after acknowledging a few fans at the airport, gathering our things from baggage claim, and climbing into a taxi, the real reason for his excitement became crystal clear.