Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
CHRISTINE
I lope through the forest, willing the scent of decaying leaves to clear my head.
Fuck, I don’t know how Morgan did it. Didn’t she say she spent like two weeks with Jamie right under her nose, his suppressants failing?
It’s hardly been two hours and…
Fuck.
Morgan also didn’t take Jamie back to her hotel room and fuck him, expecting that to make anything better.
Last night was a mistake. I really thought… what, that he was going to sleep on the couch? Or something?
You didn’t think, Tee. That’s your problem.
I was… so close to tearing off his clothes in the ravine. To having way too many questions to answer from the rest of the crew.
My mouth is still watering.
I really did mean to check on him from afar. He’d been pulling at my nose all morning, but his scent had moved away from heat. Just confirming that he was alright satisfied my alpha instincts. If he’s happier not seeing me, that’s fine by me.
The only thing that kept me from pouncing on Mylo was the lingering scent of his fear—that sharp, burnt edge of visceral terror. Even the memory makes me shudder.
I was already running when it hit me. Something about how he pushed off on that first jump was just…
wrong. Maybe I smelled the heat on him and couldn’t help myself, maybe I made a game-time calculation that it’d fuck with his run, maybe I had a premonition, maybe my scent is what made him actually fall.
I don’t know and I don’t really care. If I’d been wrong, I’d have been left standing at the bottom of the ravine like a noble idiot. No sweat.
But as he fell a foot past the blue crash mats that had been placed based on his first two runs, failing to predict his change of course, all I could think was:
I’m here.
So it feels pretty fucking wrong to walk away now, but I have to.
I should be getting back to my own job.
But right now, I just need to get away. Away from his scent, away from the growing unease when it’s not in my nose.
My body just moves.
I emerge from the trees onto the black sand beach, alone with the chill wind and the circling gulls overhead.
The ocean washes my nose clean. I walk over to a boulder jutting out from the waves, clamber up, and perch atop it, feet kicked out to dangle over the water.
This is one of our last days shooting out here, and I try to not think about that. Try to stave off that suffocating feeling, like there are sandbags piled on my chest.
I meant what I said to Mylo this morning: I don’t want to be stuck with him any more than he wants to be stuck with me.
It’s just that not all of my emotions agree with each other.
I find a pebble on the boulder’s rough surface—more a chip of rock, really—and throw it as far as I can. It creates the briefest flicker as it disturbs the water, then the waves swallow the ripples.
I can’t believe that of all nights, last night is the one where I could actually sleep. Even as I assure myself I just needed to get laid, and it doesn’t matter who, doubt lingers at the edge of my mind like an ever-present shadow.
As long as I keep moving, it can’t catch me.
That’s how I’ve gotten this far.
I pick up another rock and throw it. I should probably call Morgan or something, if only to bother her about fast-tracking Mylo’s test results. Maybe even to ask for advice, but…
Morgan and I are polar opposites. Well, as much as two female alphas can be. I already know what she’d say. She’d tell me to suck it up and get over it, which I’m already trying to do.
Lana’s going to be furious when she can’t find me. She’ll try to hide it, but I can always tell.
I don’t know how to explain to her that sometimes, to stay, I need to prove to myself that I could run away. That I’m not actually trapped. The consequences would follow me, sure, but it’s not the first time that’s happened.
I could change jobs. There’s always becoming a pro surfer, or beach combing and making art from the shells, or finally getting my boating license.
I could sell jet skis or real estate, or write a tell-all memoir about every Hollywood creep I’ve ever worked with, burning all the bridges for the hell of it.
My muscles slowly relax.
I understand why Mylo thinks I can do whatever I want. I can and do—mostly by making sure I don’t want the things I can’t have. Focus on the bright side, make sure everyone’s having a good time, don’t rock the wrong boat.
I get one, maybe two episodes like this before even someone like Lana will wonder, maybe things would be easier with a different star.
Meanwhile, male stars get passes not just for quirks, but for full-on crimes.
Just because I’m an alpha doesn’t mean all the challenges of being a woman in Hollywood suddenly vanish. That’s actually what Morgan and I first bonded over: getting drunk while ranting and raging about all the glass walls around us.
I smile to myself as I chuck another stone. There are plenty of people who would kill to see the Morgan Hunter that drunk. I might’ve challenged her to a drinking contest she did not win.
Maybe my insomnia’s cured itself and I’ll sleep fine tonight—alone. Only one way to know, and there’s no sense stressing over something that hasn’t happened yet.
Still… as the breeze kicks into a gust, sending the waves frothing, my mind goes oddly quiet. It’s like clouds drift over a once-blue sky, turning air and water to cold, somber grey.
I want to throw myself into the ocean and just… float. Let the frigid water drag me back into my body.
But Hair and Makeup would kill me. Not to mention Wardrobe.
I lean back on the boulder and stare up at the sky. Maybe for my next job I’ll just become a kite and let the wind carry me wherever…
“Christine?” It’s Mylo’s voice, and I jolt upright, twisting toward him.
Mylo stands at the base of the boulder, scent hidden by the cold air flowing in from the ocean.
I prop my knee up and lean against it. “I told you to call me Tee.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. Lana wants you.”
Maybe you can’t run away. I force a breath past that sandbag weight. “I’m sure she does.”
He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing back toward set. “Do you… want me to go get her? Or…”
I shrug, turning to the waves and keeping an ear angled his way. “I don’t care what you do.”
Mylo scoffs. “If you want to slack off, princess, that’s on you.” His footsteps shuffle along the sand. Then pause.
A wave crashes against the boulder, hissing its retreat.
A gull caws overhead.
I don’t move.
His shuffling resumes.
I remain alone on the shore.