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I frown. “Is everything alright? Did something happen to my father?”
“That’s the thing… he’s checked himself out.”
“He isn’t allowed to do that. He was supposed to stay for the entire duration of the program. What the hell happened?”
“My sincerest apologies. It seems that one of our other patients who has internet privileges happened across your, um…”
I sigh. “Just say it. It was the pictures, wasn’t it?”
“Um, yes. Thomas happened to be passing by, saw them, and…”
My blood turns to ice, shards scraping my innards clean. Dad saw the pictures of Hunter and me? I’ve never been more mortified.
“Oh dearGod, when will this nightmare end?” I groan. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“No, I’m sorry. He left in a real hurry. I think I might have overheard him saying something along the lines of ‘I’m gonna kill him.’ I’m not entirely sure, though.”
I almost laugh. I know it’s not a sane reaction, but I’m so past the point of being okay that the sound escapes me without permission. I rub my belly, on the verge of hysterical tears. Am I angry? Sad? Fuckingtired? Yes, yes, and yes. My whole world is crumbling, and I feel powerless to stop it.
I turn to Taylor. “I need a huge favor.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to play decoy.”
She arches a curious brow. “What are you planning, Eden?”
“I think Dad’s about to do something really stupid and I need to stop him before someone gets hurt.”
Taylor nods. She seems understandingly hesitant. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No,” I admit. “But at this point, I don’t know ifanythingis a good idea.”
Chapter 36
Tip #36: Talking with your fists is not advised.
HUNTER
“Cut!” I shout into my megaphone. The bell chimes, actors and crew scurrying about as they reset.
I’m not on my game today. No matter what I do, everything seems off. The actors in the scene aren’t connecting with the material, there’s one or two background actors making a meal of their brief two seconds in the shot, and there’s a never-ending avalanche of technical issues plaguing today’s filming.
Maybe I’m cursed.
Nothing’s going right. Literally everything that can go wrong is guaranteed to do so. I’m half-tempted to call it a day and send everyone packing, but the film industry is a grueling and demanding place. The show must go on, as they say, regardless of my rising cortisol levels and graying hair.
“Here you go, Mr. Stride,” Renee says, handing me a cup of coffee she got from crafty. “Black, just the way you like it.”
I take it from her, eyeing her suspiciously. She looks so much like Eden today, wearing an outfit and styling her hair just like Eden would. Every now and then I’ll catch a glimpse of her wandering around set, lingering near village, and every single time my heart skips a beat because I think it’sher.
“What are you even doing here?” I grumble. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Renee’s sweet smile doesn’t falter. “I’m actually all caught up, Mr. Stride. I figured you could use the extra help on set now that your, um… personal assistant was fired.”
I don’t know what game she’s trying to play, but there’s no denying that I need the extra hand. Eden was so damn good at her job that it’s almost impossible to function without her. She kept my schedule organized, my inbox clean, and my appointments on time. Now it feels like my life is my own personal traffic jam, forcing my way through every single delay, pile-up, and accident.
“She wasn’t fired,” I correct flatly.
