“Hey,” I said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. His eyes flicked up to mine but didn’t quite meet them. “We’re in this together, okay? Whatever happens today — I’m here. You don’t have to do it alone.”
He gave another stiff nod, but still didn’t speak; the tension in his shoulders still didn’t ease.
His breath hitched. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured finally, once he’d put the keys in the ignition. “They’ve already written me off, Juniper. I’m the guy no one wants to work with. The has-been, the moody child star, the washed up old man.” His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. “You heard Kellogg. He picked me only because Mariannebeggedhim.”
“So what if it goes south?” I asked before I could think about what I was saying.
“What?” he spun around quickly.
“What if this whole movie flops? What if you don’t get a redemption arc?”
“Juniper Paige…” his voice lowered. He was glaring at me.
“I’m serious. What’s next for Ansel Barlowe if ‘The Way We Move’ doesn’t land like Kellogg wants it to?”
“I—” I didn’t think it was possible, but he gripped the steering wheeltighter. “Then I’ve got nothing left.”
“Nothing?”
“Oh, don’t do that, June.”
A laugh punched out of my mouth. “I’m not talking about me, dipshit.” I met his gaze. “You’ll still be Eryk Moonstrider.”
“Everyone hates him.”
“No, no, I don’t think they do.”
“You don’t count.”
“You’ll still beAnsel Barlowe.”
“A name worth shit, Juniper.”
“So what do youwant, Ansel?” I was louder than I had meant to be. Not shouting, but it wasn’t quiet.
He swallowed, voice barely more than a rasp. “I don’t know. I wish I did. I thought I had it all figured out before. Thought this movie would be the ‘one thing’ to fix everything.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But I don’t even know who I’m trying to fix anymore.”
The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, but I didn’t speak. This wasn’t my choice; this wasn’tmylife. “Maybe I don’t want a reboot or a second chance,” he admitted, eyes on the road but somewhere distant. “Maybe I just want to figure out who Ansel Barlowe is without all that noise. Fame, movies, people’s expectations…”
I nodded slowly, heart aching. “That makes sense.”
He glanced at me then, raw and unguarded. “I don’t want to lean on you like a lifeline. I just… want to be better. For me. Foryou. But I’m scared that might mean losing everything I’ve known.”
I squeezed his hand. “You’re not alone in that, cowboy.”
He exhaled hard, a mix of relief and dread. “I guess all I can do is take it one scene at a time.”
“And know I’ll be here to remind you of your lines.”
“Don’t use Hollywood lingo, you dork.” And he laughed. The sound was wet and a little ragged, but it wasreal.
Pulling up to the set sort of felt like I can only assume knights must have felt when they rode up on an enemy kingdom. My heart was thrumming loudly in my chest, palms sweaty as I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt.
Ansel opened my car door.
“Will you tell me which scene you’re shooting?” I’d asked him several times over the last three days, but he’d just shaken his head each time.
“Should only be an hour or two after hair and makeup.” Was the only answer he gave me today.
