Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucy
I shift on Stella’s couch, trying to get comfortable, but between the thousand pillows propping me up and the monstrous boot on my ankle, I’m one wrong move from full-on implosion.
The air smells like vanilla and bergamot thanks to Stella’s candle obsession, but even that can’t drown out the pain, or the jagged stab of panic every time I remember what’s at stake.
My phone buzzes again from the end table. I don’t have to look.
It’s either Mom or Terrence, my agent.
I promised them both I’d let them know when I arrived in Stillwater Bay.
I ignore it. Again.
“I still can’t believe this,” Stella mutters.
She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through the stack of hospital discharge papers like they might bite her.
Her brows pinch and she flips her straight, black hair over her shoulder to meet my eyes.
“It’s your right foot, Lou. That’s gonna make driving hard. ”
I grimace adjusting a pillow that has no interest in helping me rather than face the implications of that statement.
“When you didn’t show, I figured you stopped for snacks or got caught up chatting with Simon and Violet at Holiday’s,” Gabby chimes in from the armchair. “But I mean…” She trails off, azure eyes wide. “It didn’t even cross my mind that we’d be picking you up from the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. It comes out croaky and unconvincing. “Coulda been much worse.”
Though I don’t see how.
But if I keep saying it, maybe it’ll become true.
“Do you want anything?” Stella asks, already halfway to standing. “Water? Another blanket? Pillow under your knees?”
“I think if you add one more pillow, I’ll suffocate,” I say, aiming for playful, but landing somewhere near brittle. Her face falls a little, and I instantly feel bad. “Sorry. I’m just… tired.”
“We get it.” Gabby’s pretty features soften, her tone as gentle as she is.
I nod, then reach for my phone.
One voicemail. Two missed calls. Three unread texts.
Terrence. Mom. Terrence, Terrence. Mom, Mom.
Mom
Hey, just checking in. Arrive okay? No car trouble? Call me.
Terrence
Need your updated bio before rehearsals start
Also, reminder: initial rehearsal location changed. Sending address
Mom
Hey honey! Me again! Looking forward to seeing you! Check in when you can. Dad sends his love! Why he won’t just text you himself, I’ll never understand. You know your father…
I click the screen off.
“I need to call Terrence,” I say aloud, more to myself than anyone. “Tell him what happened.”
But even as I say it, dread knots in my stomach.
If I tell him, he’ll tell the tour director.
And if the tour director knows I’m injured this early in the game?
Non-weight bearing for three, maybe four weeks?
That’s it. They’ll replace me. No question.
And what then? Crawl home with nothing to show for the years I spent chasing a job like this?
Let Dad be right?
This is what I’ve been working for. My first real break…
and it’s a good one. Working with Sandro René is a career maker.
He’s hot. Popular. He doesn’t change with the trends; he sets them.
Having his world tour on my resumé might as well be an Emmy or an Oscar.
It’s my chance to prove to my dad he was wrong about all of it. Wrong about me.
I cannot lose this job. Not just because of the money—well, kind of because of the money—but mostly because my whole life has been leading up to this moment.
“Or maybe I don’t call him,” I say slowly, placing the phone on the end table.
“I’m sure I’ll be feeling better in a couple days.
I mean, I have the internet, right? I can read up on grade three sprains, study the healing protocols.
I’ll even find videos and learn how to rehab myself.
I might be a little slow out of the gate at the first rehearsal, but I’ll be careful.
Mark the choreography for a few days. No one will even know there’s a problem. ”
Gabby and Stella exchange a look, like they’re trying to psychically communicate how honest to be with me.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Stella says carefully.
“But you can’t even drive, Lou.” Gabby looks distraught. “It’s your right foot. How are you going to get back to Los Angeles?”
“I’m here for a whole week. I’m sure I’ll be good to drive by the end of the visit.” I bob my head, my smile growing. I got this. I so, so got this.
I’ve never met a problem I couldn’t solve.
Hard work, determination, and the right attitude will get me through this like they’ve gotten me through everything else.
Gabby, however, looks less confident. “Your papers say you’ll be in the boot for three to four weeks, though.”
Stella elbows her.
Gabby winces, then backtracks. “But hey! You’re a fast healer.”
“And whatever happens, stay as long as you need,” Stella adds. “Seriously. No pressure. The couch is yours until you’re better.”
I nod, even though the idea of crashing here longer makes something anxious crawl under my skin. Stella’s house is cute, but small. One bedroom. One bath. Tiny kitchen. And me on the couch in the middle of it all.
“Martha’s thing is tomorrow.” I adjust, wincing as my ankle slides on the pillow. “I was going to see my parents on Monday. Leave on Friday. I bet if I skip the shower and let my ankle rest, maybe even skip seeing my parents, I could still be outta your hair by the end of the week.”
Gabby’s brows lift. “You could fly back?”
“Can’t afford it.”
“Right. Sorry.” She frowns, running a hand through her honey-blonde hair. “And your dad is still all ‘I’m a stubborn ass who’s always right and would rather make a point than help my daughter out of a bad way?’” Gabby finishes, doing a scarily accurate impression of his voice.
“We don’t really talk all that much.”
Mostly because of everything Gabby just said.
“That’s probably for the best,” Stella mutters.
“I’d die if I couldn’t talk to my dad,” Gabby says quietly, earning herself another elbow in the ribs from Stella.
“What?” she says, holding up her hands. “I’m not wrong. Just… different families, different rules.”
I glance away. It’s not jealousy exactly. More like… mourning something I never had. Which is silly and unproductive right now.
“You know what?” I force a smile. “We can’t let my disaster ruin our time together. I won’t be able to go to Martha’s shower, and we can’t do beach walks or go out dancing or whatever, but we can still watch movies, eat popcorn, and laugh at the tragedies of boyfriends past the way we used to.”
“You’re not supposed to be looking at screens,” Stella says, holding up a highlighted section of my discharge paperwork like it’s gospel. “Concussion protocol.”
“Right,” I sigh. “Dr. Stupidly Handsome did mention that.”
I try to sound casual, but just thinking about him makes my stomach flutter.
Which is ridiculous.
Obviously.
Stella arches a brow. “Come again?”
“Hot doctor?” Gabby perks up. “Do tell.”
“Oh, I told, all right. Him.” I groan at the memory. “Pretty sure I called him a Greek god to his face.”
Gabby gasps like I confessed to murder while Stella cackles and I’m instantly transported back to staring dumbly at that unfairly beautiful face.
It was one thing when I thought he asked me on a date.
Another when I couldn’t stop staring into those storm-gray eyes.
But actually saying any of that out loud?
Thank goodness I’ll never see him again. Can’t imagine that awkward reunion.
“Did you get a name at least?” Gabby asks, still half-laughing.
“Dr. Kincaid. Older. Tall. Rude in that I-save-lives-and-don’t-have-time-for-your-emotions kind of way.” I think back to the look on his face when he heard I didn’t have insurance. “But also, kind of not.”
Both my friends freeze.
“Wait,” Stella says slowly. “Nash Kincaid?”
I blink. “I didn’t exactly ask for his first name.”
Stella rifles through the paperwork, then nods sharply, looking… disgusted?
“Yep. There it is. Doctor Nash Kincaid.” She stabs the paper with her finger before dropping it to the floor like it’s contaminated.
Gabby groans. “Of course. Of course the guy you call a Greek god is Grayson’s older brother.”
“And Bennett’s,” Stella adds, deadpan.
The names hit me like a splash of cold water. “Wait… that Kincaid? Bennett as in my best friend in middle school, and Grayson as in the jerk who broke Gab’s heart? That guy is their brother?”
I vaguely remember Bennett talking about his much older brother—with all the reverence due a Greek god, mind you—but I never met him. He was already in college when Bennett and I were friends.
Stella confirms with a sage nod. “Bennett’s evil twin. Without the twin part.”
“Correction,” Gabby cuts in. “Grayson is the evil one. Bennett’s just a jerk who loves to get under your skin.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter. “The Kincaids are locked in a lifelong battle for Most Annoying, and Nash is going all in.”
They both give me a look.
“Trust us,” Stella says. “Nobody wins that game.”
Their laughter fades, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
I glance at my phone again just as Terrence’s name flashes across the screen. My thumb hovers. One tap and it all changes. Or ends.
My life is unraveling, one thread at a time.
I look to my two best friends in the whole world—both sweet and strong and stubborn, just in completely different ways.
Stella, with her jet-black hair and fierce brown eyes, is all sharp lines, bold honesty, and unflinching confidence. She walks like she knows exactly where she’s going, even when she doesn’t.
Gabby, on the other hand, is softness personified—blonde hair that catches the light, eyes that always seem to be smiling, and a heart big enough to hold everyone else’s chaos.
Where Stella’s tall, Gabby’s short. Where Gabby’s gentle, Stella’s intense.
And somehow, between the two of them, I’ve always found my balance.
If my life is gonna unravel, it couldn’t happen in better company.