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She nods, releasing her grip on me.
“What’s going on?” Paxton says, jogging up toward us. “Brad said the spearhead is supposed to retract, and it didn’t.”
I step closer to him so as not to be overheard. “Someone gave her the wrong prop.” I lift the spear to show him. “This is what she was using.”
“Fuck. That’s not good.”
“No . . . it’s not,” I agree, shaking my head. “If this gets out . . .”
“We won’t let it.”
I sigh, looking up at Paxton. “How are we going to manage that?”
“Teagan!” A scream pierces the air, and I don’t need to turn around to recognize the voice.
Theresa is barreling toward us, and she’s not worried. She’s pissed.
“Who let her in here?” I say through my teeth.
“Want me to handle this?” Paxton offers, but I’m too focused on what’s occurring in front of me.
“You stop being dramatic and get up.”
Teagan shudders at her mom’s words. Her mouth opens and shuts several times. It looks like she can’t find her words, and to be honest, I understand because, right now, neither can I. “You need to get back up and finish this scene.”
She moves in closer, leaning over until she’s practically on top of Teagan. “We need this. You can’t ruin this.” Her words come out in a hissed, low whisper, but I hear them clear as day since I’m so close.
“Mom—”
I march toward them, looking down at Theresa. “Teagan will do no such thing. Everyone on this set will agree that she needs a moment.”
“It isn’t your place to say what she needs—”
“No, but it’s mine,” Stefan’s voice rings through the air. “Everyone, that’s a wrap for the day.”
Before Theresa can object, Stefan strides away, not allowing her to say another word. She doesn’t bother to ensure Teagan is being cared for before she storms off, too.
Turning back toward Teagan, I reach my hand out to help her up. The sun is setting now, its light reflecting on Teagan’s face. She looks so fragile in the fading light, unshed tears filling her eyes.
“I know I’m not supposed to cry. I know better than to expect more from her . . .” she finally says, “but . . .”
I can hear the pain in her voice, and my heart breaks for her.
“It’s all right,” I say softly, squeezing her hand. “Let’s get out of here and get drunk.”
“I’m underage.”
“On this island, the drinking age is eighteen.” I wink.
Her face lights up with the first real smile I’ve seen from her today.
26
Paxton
@Stargossip: Name a song that comes to mind when you think of Twisted Lily . . . Go!
@TeaganTrain: “Island Lover” by Shaggy.
@LosttoLust: “Burn the Ships” by King & Country!
@Deathtothesystem: “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” by R.E.M.
@Stargossip: @Deathtothesystem I couldn’t have picked a better song! Bravo!
What a disaster of a day.
Even though Teagan wasn’t badly injured, she was still hurt. Yet more potential fodder for the gossip columns. On top of that, filming was once again stopped.
I search for Mallory to check on Teagan and find them sitting on the grass, well on their way to tipsy.
Why not? Shooting is halted, might as well take the edge off.
Crossing the space, I swipe a bottle of rum from the table before heading in their direction.
Mallory’s laughter breaks through the air, wrapping around me, resulting in my need to readjust.
Jesus.
Why does this woman make me feel like a horny teenager?
I sit beside her on the blanket, passing her the bottle of rum. She grabs it from my hand and takes a swig before passing it to Teagan.
She tips the bottle back, draining too much, too quickly.
“Thanks,” she chokes out.
My eyebrow lifts into my hair, and Mallory smirks at me. Her eyes twinkle with amusement. I take back my earlier assessment. She’s well past tipsy.
She lifts her empty bottle. “Ours ran out, so thank you for bringing us a new one.” She hiccups on that last part.
I recline back on my elbows. “What can I say? I’m good for something, at least.”
“You know what I hate about my mom?” Teagan says, clearly not in the mood to hold back. Her voice drips with sarcasm as she continues the conversation she must have been having before I sat down. “She thinks she can control me like some kind of puppet! No matter how hard I try to prove her wrong, she still won’t let me be my own person.”
Mallory shakes her head and chimes in with a smile. “I feel you.”
I lift the bottle to my mouth, considering what Mallory is thinking. I don’t know much about their family, but from the little she’s said in the heat of the moment, her father is rather controlling.
The rum warms my stomach. It’s like a small fire that spreads through my body, and I can feel it loosening the knots in my shoulders.
