Not Quite Dead Yet, page 36
Next, to my other wonderful agent, Emily Hayward-Whitlock, who is the best film/TV agent in the world (see, I can be diplomatic). Thank you, Emily, for being the calm I have so often needed these past couple of years, and for guiding this ship through every high and low. Thank you for dedicating so much time, effort, and care to me as my fictional worlds make their way to the screen. I think we make a jolly good team.
Perhaps my greatest thanks are owed to Dr. Matthew Pitt, without whom this book wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you for being so generous with your time and medical expertise, as I detailed exactly what horrors I wanted to put this main character through. Thank you for helping me come up with a scenario that was as realistic and true to life as possible. I did deviate slightly from what we discussed—swapping out a bullet fragment for a sliver of skull—so any medical inaccuracies are mine and mine alone, but I hope you’ll forgive me as I hold my hands up and yell: “Poetic license!” Thank you for making this story I was dying to tell possible.
Now, to my incredible publishers. Firstly, the team at Bantam. My amazing editor needs no introduction, but I will do so anyway. Thank you so much to Jennifer Hershey, for adding me to your incredible existing list of authors, and for so expertly taking me and Jet under your wing. I’m so glad we both found our home with you, and I’m so grateful for the time and care you’ve dedicated to us. Thank you also to Kara Welsh and Kim Hovey, for believing in this book, and in me. Thank you to Taylor Noel in marketing, and Jennifer Garza and Melissa Folds in publicity. Thank you to Scott Biel for my incredible cover. I love it so much, and thank you for your patience as we slowly found our way toward it—ha! In this instance, I really hope people do judge a book by its cover. And thank you to: Loren Noveck, Jenn Backe, Debbie Glasserman, Saige Francis, Pam Alders, Richard Booth, Sarah Feightner, Nicholas LoVecchio, Deborah Bader, Kate Gomer, Julia Henderson, and Bridget Sweet. Thank you all so much for working so hard to take this story and turn it into a real-life book. I’m still convinced it’s magic.
And to my and Jet’s UK publisher, Michael Joseph. As soon as I met the team—before any of you even really knew what this book was about—I felt completely at home. I knew that not only were you the best team for the job, but that we would also have fun in the meantime—a lesson I also needed to learn, alongside Jet. Thank you so much to my amazing editor Joel Richardson; I’m so grateful that I have you in my corner, with your sharp eye and your boundless enthusiasm. Thank you to Max Hitchcock, Louise Moore, Hannah Smith, and Nalisha Vansia, for being as excited about this book as I am. Thank you to Sriya Varadharajan and Frankie Banks in publicity, and to Annie Moore and Vicky Photiou in marketing. And thank you to Lee Motley for my amazing UK cover.
Thank you to booksellers across the world who make sure my books actually find their way into readers’ hands. I owe you everything.
Thank you to my family, as ever, for always being the first readers of all of my books. But most especially to my little sister, Olivia, who was my very first reader ever. My origin story as an author began at ten years old, when I would write (murder-filled) short stories just for you. Thank you for letting me traumatize you, both back then and forever. And thank you to my parents for not catching on to the above, while I fostered a love for storytelling. Thank you to Joe, who is now officially family. Thank you for trusting me to (unofficially) marry you and Liv, and to write something different—full of hope and happy endings—for a change. Thank you to Peter and Gaye for your unending support, and to Katie for talking brains and other medical things with me. And to Harry for caring about me and my books more than most. Thank you to Dexter—you are actually the good boy, Reggie is just made up, I swear.
And, as ever, the most important thank you belongs to one person. Ben. Unlike most of my book couples so far (oops sorry), we actually are endgame.
About the Author
Holly Jackson is the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling series A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, an international sensation with millions of copies sold worldwide and a hit Netflix series. She enjoys playing video games and watching true-crime documentaries so she can pretend to be a detective. She lives in London.
Instagram: @hojay92
TikTok: @hojax92
Appendix: Image Transcriptions
Several images in this ebook contain passages of text. In this section, those images has been reproduced as thumbnails accompanied by a transcription of the text.
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I missed dinner. Think I’m actually missing it right now.
I wanted to say goodbye to you, and more too. So here it is.
I’m sorry that I’m not Emily. But I was never supposed to be. Took me a while to learn that, and I hope you can see it too. I spent my whole life waiting because I was trying to live a future that was never mine. And I did it because I wanted you to be proud of me. To just once say, “Good job, Jet.” I needed it, lived for it, and I don’t think that was healthy, for either of us. I’m sorry.
I’ll probably die without once hearing you say you’re proud of me, but that’s OK. I think you’d have been proud of the person I would have become after this week, because of this week. And even if you aren’t proud of her, I am. We’ve come far, she and I.
You don’t have to listen to me, but I hope you do. I think you’ve spent a lot of your life blaming other people. It’s always someone else’s fault, when life is unfair or hard. It might make you feel better, just like it made me feel better to tell myself I always had more time, I always had more “later.” Sometimes those crutches are the things that are hurting us.
If you can do one thing for me, Mom, I want you to let it all go.
You’ll feel so much lighter.
I do.
Love you. And I’m proud of you.
Jet xx
Back to image
Dear Dad,
I’m not sure where to start so I’ll start with this.
You are the kindest man I ever knew.
And I know you probably don’t think so—because of our screwed-up kidneys—but I’m so lucky I got to be your daughter.
You are so kind. Sometimes, maybe, to a fault. You always want to be fair, never want to upset people. But I think, sometimes, that makes you choose things that are unfair, on yourself, or the people around you.
It’s OK to take sides.
It’s OK to follow your heart or your gut, not just what is “fair.”
You can get off that fence sometimes.
Say “no” more.
You’ll be OK, I promise.
I’ll be watching out for you.
And remember to take those Lotrel pills—I don’t want you to join me for a long, long time.
I mean it.
Love you Dad.
Jet xx
Back to image
Dear Reggie,
I know you’re a dog, and I know you can’t read.
But I couldn’t go without answering that one question I always ask you.
Who’s a good boy?
It’s you, Reg.
You’re the good boy.
Take care of Mom and Dad for me.
Love,
Jet xx
Back to image
Dear Sophia,
You’re a cunt.
Love,
Jet xx
Back to image
Dear Luke,
I think we’re a lot alike, you and me.
Or we were.
We’ve spent our whole lives trying to fill Emily’s shoes, feeling crushed by her shadow, trying to prove to Mom and Dad that we are good enough too.
For you that turned into one thing: the company. For me, it was many things, and I never saw them through, never completed them, always self-sabotaged.
But how were we ever going to win, competing with a ghost?
And what was the point?
I asked you if getting the company was the thing that would finally make you happy, that life could truly begin after you achieved it. You said that it was the only thing that would make you happy, the most important thing.
I think you’re wrong. Like I’ve always been wrong. It won’t make you happy, but I’m scared it might be too late for you to hear that.
Life isn’t about proving something, about waiting for it all to begin. It already began, Luke, and you’re missing it. But we’re different here too. I think I only ever really hurt myself, living that way, but I think you’ve hurt other people, Luke. I know you have.
I want you to stop, I want you to be better, but I’m not sure you know how.
And I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you see.
There are more important things.
Please don’t hurt anyone else.
Love,
Jet xx
Back to image
Dear Billy,
I saved your letter for last, because it’s the hardest one to write. Actually, in some ways, it’s the easiest, because you’re the one person who makes everything feel easy, and Home is wherever you are, Billy.
I already said a lot of what I needed to say to you.
But there’s more.
I haven’t lived so much in twenty-seven years as I have this past week with you. I wish it could last forever, never end.
I know about the song. I know you wrote it about me. I know, Billy. And I know you think I could never love you back, that we’re not on the same page.
But here’s the thing. I don’t know if I love you in the same way, not yet, but I think I’m starting to. I think I’m falling, if I know what falling feels like. I know you make me feel safe, I know you make me feel ten feet tall. I know you’re my best friend, always have been. And I think, if we’d had more time, we could have got there. We would have got there. But I also think that if I hadn’t been dying, if we didn’t have this week together, then maybe I never would have seen it. Maybe I would have moved to Boston, forgotten all about you. So I don’t know what that means. Maybe it just wasn’t in the stars for us.
You’re the one who has to live. So live.
But I want you to promise me something.
Don’t be scared to love someone else, Billy.
And—most important—don’t be scared to be loved back.
Because someone will love you back, Billy, I promise. And they’ll figure it out much sooner than I did.
You make sure she’s nice to you, because you’re the best person there is. Tell her I’ll be keeping an eye on her.
So, I think I’m going to die here, in this cell, and we still haven’t figured out who killed me. Still haven’t solved my murder. Which means we failed. Which means this entire week has just been a waste of time.
But, was it really a waste of time, if I loved every minute of it?
Love you (and I do, I really think I do)
Jet xx
Back to image
The Last Will and Testament of Margaret “Jet” Mason
Date: 11/07/2025
I, Margaret “Jet” Mason, residing at 10 College Hill Road, Woodstock, Vermont, declare this to be my Will, and I revoke any and all codicils I previously made.
I hereby leave all of the money in my account and all other personal property to Henry Lim, so he can pay for his eye surgery.
And to Billy Finney, Apartment 1B, 4 Central Street, Woodstock, Vermont, I give my Ford F-150 truck. I know he’ll take good care of it.
Go find new stars, Billy.
Back to image
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
_152578891_
Holly Jackson, Not Quite Dead Yet
