Page 117 of The Worst Possible Plan

He smiled. And it wasn’t the polite sheriff smile. It was Eric’s smile, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes enough to make him look younger and softer. Like the man behind the badge instead of the sheriff wearing it. That kind of smile didn’t ask anything from me. It didn’t expect me to be anybody except exactly who I already was.

Somehow that made everything inside me settle. The overthinking, the second-guessing, the wondering whether I was too much or not enough seemed to loosen their grip just a little.

I smiled back without thinking about it or worrying what came next.

With my phone still in my hand, I tapped the diary app and typed:

Day 4:

Got the job.

Got the guy.

Didn’t die.

I dropped my phone back on the chair next to me.

I wasn’t lying awake wondering what I was supposed to do with my life or who I was supposed to become to make somebody else happy.

I already knew. Amazingly, beautifully knew.

I wasn’t wondering where I was headed anymore.

I was already on my way.