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I sniffle and wipe a tear away. “So you bring me to the edge and push me off before I’m ready?” How can he not see I need time to build up to making these leaps? I need to be certain.
He reaches toward me with a tentative smile. “I hold my hands out to you and ask you to trust me and jump with me. I won’t let you crash.”
Unless it takes me so long to jump that something else catches his attention. I’m never going to be enough for him. I don’t think I’m enough for myself right now. Wild Things hits its first major hiccup and I crumple. “I need to think about this.”
Timothy nods but I can feel his disappointment in me, and suddenly I can’t do tonight. I can’t go to a party and pretend everything’s okay because it’s very much not okay.
He locks the shop and we go back to his house. When he helps me out of the car, I’m numb. “You go to the party,” I tell him when he goes to follow me inside. “I need some space.”
He looks crushed, his shoulders drooping, but he nods. When he holds out his arms, I walk into them and he holds me tight. His hugs really do help, but this is bigger than one hug.
“I love you,” he whispers. “Please remember that.”
“I love you, too,” I say back. “Have fun tonight. Be careful.”
He promises he will.
Chapter twenty-seven
Timothy
Thewholeprivateroomat the venue goes silent when I walk in, then erupts in wild applause.
I grin, but I’m gritting my teeth to keep the scream inside.
When it goes on and on like a standing ovation, I take a quick bow and walk straight to the bar hoping to make it stop.
It’s going to be a long night of having my accident and retirement shoved into my face. If I didn’t feel obligated to be here, I’d be home trying to fix this mess I’ve made with Mina.
Nic is at the bar with his costar Greta Wilson, nursing a whiskey and looking like he wants to be anywhere else. Tonight, I’m going to attach myself to his side and use him like a shield.
Very Important People stop to talk to me, dancing around asking me not to sue. Since the only person to blame is me, I politely ignore their hints and openly take zero responsibility.
The cast and crew are better, but everyone wants a piece of me and I don’t have that much to give. Nic leaves me for Stella—the way my night’s going, I’m not surprised. They met years ago, before Addison. There was a spark between them, but Stella being a stunt driver was a hard limit.
They’re out on the balcony with the rest of the stunt crew and a few of the rowdier actors. Instead of taking a seat beside Nic, I drop into the one next to Stella before I realize the whole table is re-living my greatest hits.
Once I would have jumped in and told the stories myself. But I’m not that guy anymore, so I do my best to look more abashed than depressed as Curtis talks about the time I leaped across a series of crumbling rooftops—attached to a wire but I still had to make those jumps. Danny pipes in with a skydiving stunt. Stella talks about one where I clung to the truck she was driving. A few stories get silly—the time Danny wouldn’t lower me off a wire until I admitted Armando’s food truck was Arturo’s after a rebrand. It’s not, he’s wrong, but I hung in an uncomfortable-ass harness for a while before I decided losing blood flow to key parts of my anatomy wasn’t worth a slice of greasy pizza.
My colleagues are going to go out and make more movies and do more cool things and I’m not and Christ I miss it. I won’t be setting any new records. I’ll never be the Greatest Of All Time. What I’ve already accomplished will be topped by guys like Dex.
My skin is too tight, pent-up energy ready to burst out. I’ve never been still for this many weeks in my life and a future full of this crawly, itchy feeling stretches for an eternity. I can’t do it. Deep down, I know I can’t.
When they start talking about how I’ve inspired them, I can’t take it anymore. I get up. I’m not dead and this shit belongs at the after-party of my funeral when I can’t hear it.
Stella springs to her feet, pushing me back into my seat before walking around to grab two chairs from an empty table. Everyone watches as she places them about four feet apart.
My heart kicks up a notch.
“The Floor is Lava, friends,” she says with a smile. “The throne is empty. You can judge, Timothy.”
That chafes. I am undefeated at this game. I cross my arms and pretend her challenge doesn’t sting. “Might as well, since none of you could beat me anyway.”
Stella goes first, with an aerial twist. Simple and clean, she lands it easily. She’s been practicing, but what she did I could do blindfolded.
Danny is light on his feet but his size is against him in this game and while he lands a simple flip on the second chair, he wobbles too much, jumping into the lava before he can fall.
With me out of the game, my money’s on Curtis, but he passes on account of a pulled hamstring.
