“Hey everyone, could I get your attention real quick,” Ryder said a minute later, addressing the crew, and my stomach filled with cement. “I just let Nate know that I’m not feeling well. The runs,” he added with an exaggerated grimace, and I gasped as stifled laughter rippled through the crowd. “I was trying to stick it out, but it’s becoming a problem and I need to call it a night before things get any messier.” I covered my mouth to muffle the stunned laugh that spilled out, and Ryder caught my gaze from across the room, that familiar mischievous glintin his eyes. “I’ve got the bandwidth for one last take, so let’s make it a good one. Everyone on your A games, no slip-ups, and we’ll all get out of here and call it a night.”
Everyone reset and took their places, the room buzzing with activity—and, I noted, sighs of relief that we’d finally be getting out of here. Ironically, by taking the fall for me, Ryder had made himself a hero.
All I could do was shake my head as he made his way toward me from across the room. I didn’t know if it was his thoughtfulness, this headache, or the exhaustion from this endless day, but my eyes began to well with tears.
He stopped in front of me and started to say something, but I threw my arms around his neck before he could, not caring who saw. He held me tight, rubbing my back as I whispered a wobbly“Thank you”into his ear.
He shushed me. “You’re welcome. And you can’t lose it yet, you’ve got to save some emotion for the scene,” he teased affectionately, then found my hand at my side and squeezed it. “Can you make it through one more take?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. I was so tired of pretending to be strong, pretending I wasn’t in agony, and he was giving me permission to surrender. The urge to crawl into the protection of his arms was overwhelming. I just wanted to let him fix it, make it all better, and somehow, I knew he could.
His eyes were warm and soothing, like tea with honey.A safe place. “Let’s do this. You ready?”
I squared my shoulders and blinked back the tears, and despite the pounding in my skull, I felt flushed with fresh resolve.One last take. I can do this.
Later, after we’d nailed the scene and I’d practicallycollapsed into the car waiting to take me back to Riverview, my assistant Lainey pressed a brown bag into my hands. “Ryder asked me to give you this.”
She shut the door, and in a pained haze, I opened the bag. Inside was a bottle of Excedrin Migraine, a six-pack of ginger ale, a cold gel sleep mask, and a scrawled note.
Get some rest—and if you need a masseuse, you know where to find me.
11
Now
Wednesday dawns brightand sparkling, the gauzy curtains in my bedroom no match for the brilliant sunlight streaming through the wall of glass windows. While I’ve grown accustomed to waking up in strange places and sleeping in beds that aren’t my own, it still takes me a moment to remember where I am: in Seafolly, plunged headfirst into my past.
I pad out onto the balcony in my nightgown and squint at the horizon, shading my eyes from the blinding light that’s already toasting my skin. The sun hangs high above the water, its rays blazing a glittering trail across the sapphire surface, scavenging seagulls lofting gently on the breeze. The sky is a vivid blue, fluffy white clouds drifting across it like puffed marshmallows. It’s a spectacular view, the kind special effects artists desperately attempt to replicate but can never do justice. I breathe in, letting the salt air fill my lungs, feeling the blissful, bone-deep calm that only the ocean can provide flow through my veins.
But my serenity is short-lived, because staring out at thevast, wide-open sky reminds me that today is the day I’ll be stuck in a cockpit with Ryder.
Yesterday was spent with myLost Lettercastmates, doing photo ops at the movie’s most famous filming locations and touring a few of the areas hardest hit by the hurricane. It was an emotional day, the combination of the devastation and nostalgia a lot to take in, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at Ryder. He seemed to be on a charm offensive, bantering with the press, interacting tirelessly with his fans, kissing babies—and lobbing blatantly flirtatious comments at me every chance he got. I played along for the cameras, but it got under my skin more than I cared to admit.
I cornered Jase about it the second I got him alone, when we grabbed dinner after our long day of appearances. “You didn’t warn me he was like this,” I accused.
“Like what?” he said, casually chewing a French fry.So innocent.
“Oh I don’t know, a completely different person?” I speared the leaves of my salad with excessive force.
He lifted a brow in wry amusement. “You’re surprised he’s not the same guy he was ten years ago?”
“How could you not tell me he was sober?” I hissed, not in the mood for his sarcasm. At a nearby table, two women kept sneaking glances our way, whispering behind their menus. Even tucked into a corner booth, Jase drew attention like bees to honey. Or as he liked to say,he wasn’t built to blend in.
“Why didn’t I tell you?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin before bunching it in his fist. “Maybe because every time I mentioned his name, you got a look on your face like I kicked your dog.”
I blinked at him, then stared down at my plate. I had no comeback for that.
“You didn’t want to hear it,” he said gently. “And I didn’t want to make things worse.”
I huffed a breath like I was annoyed, but we both knew he was right. Of course I hadn’t wanted to hear it. It hurt too much.
His voice softened. “Look, I love you both. You’re two of my favorite people. I didn’t want to pick sides, and to your credit, you never made me. But Scarlett, he’s been different for a long time.” He hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of his next words. “Maybe you should give him a chance to show you.”
I scoffed. “I gave him a chance the other night and look how that turned out.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you could find out for yourself instead of grilling me,” he said pointedly, and my face flamed. “From where I’m sitting, he seems to be trying pretty hard to get your attention.”
I squirmed in my seat, feeling exposed in a way I didn’t want to be. Jase knew me too well—knewbothof us too well. I needed a subject change. “Speaking of attention, these women at the next table have been working up the courage to come talk to you. Ten bucks says one’ll give you her number, so prepare to be charming.”
