Tell it to My Heart

Chapter 1

Sloane

That’s Us actor Beckett Giles was spotted at Casa de Oro last night. After greeting fans and signing autographs, the star was ushered to a private room where onlookers say he dined alone.

This isn’t the first time Beckett’s been spotted on his own in recent months, while girlfriend, pop star Sloane Rivera, has been traveling around the country for her Brave tour.

Celebrity’s Alexis Logan caught up with the actor. “How’s life here in LA while your girlfriend is flying from one concert to the next?”

“It’s amazing. Sloane’s having a great time, and I look forward to having her back by my side where she belongs.”

Six months, three weeks, and two days. That’s how long it had been since I last stepped foot in my apartment. After sleeping on planes and buses and in hotel rooms, the only thing I truly wanted was to fall into my own bed and stay there for a month or two.

But I had to get there first. That meant getting out of the car. Walking through the front doors and into the elevator. Riding up to the top floor and putting my key in the door.

That shouldn’t have been so hard. Yet as I stared up at my building from the back seat of the car, the thought of lifting my hand to the door handle was almost too much to bear.

Before I could gather my willpower and my strength, the door opened for me. My driver stood on the other side, my carry-on in one hand.

“Will there be anything else, Miss Rivera?” he asked, both the corners of his lips and his brow pulling down like they, too, were unwilling to go on.

I took a deep breath, then forced a smile. “No, thank you, Karl. That will be all.” I slung my purse strap over my shoulder and begrudgingly stepped out of the Town Car. After he handed me my bag and wished me well, I left Karl on the sidewalk and went inside.

The lobby was empty, which was fitting for how I currently felt inside.

The elevator ride to the top was long, and the silence made my shoulders tense up.

As hard as touring proved to be, it was easier than this.

Coming back to the life I’d been so happy to escape six months ago felt harder—so much harder—that I started it early by spending a week with my family in Chicago and ended it the same way.

“Do you even realize how this makes me look?” Beckett asked before I walked out of the apartment to go to the airport.

“I have done everything for you, and now you’re just leaving me so you can go sing for a crowd?

What about me, Sloane? What about my career?

I need you by my side, and you’re just running away for this delusion of yours. You’re making me look like a fool.”

Maybe I was the fool. The fool that stormed out of my own apartment and hid from the man I’d been with since we started dating as teens. The fool that stayed with the man even though I wondered if I was truly meant to be his.

I just wanted to get through my tour. It was the culmination of all the hard work I’d put into my career since my father pushed me into it when I was four years old. I wanted the man who was supposed to love me to show me an ounce of the support I’d given him over the past few years.

It was Beckett who kept me from following my dream for so long, and Beckett who made me feel like shit when I’d finally realized acting in crappy movies and playing his doting girlfriend weren’t enough for me.

It should have been Beckett who encouraged me to live for myself instead of following what our manager, Calvin Hobson, had insisted was the right course.

“The right course for who?” I muttered under my breath as I came to a stop in front of my apartment door. It certainly hadn’t been the right course for me.

After unlocking my door, I took a steadying breath before I pushed inside. My heart climbed to my throat as I looked around.

There were candles on every surface. Rose petals scattered across the floor. My entire apartment smelled of roses and sage, and it brought tears to my eyes.

I couldn’t believe Beckett would apologize like this. We hadn’t spoken since I left, had only communicated via text. He’d told me he’d be happy when I was home, but I’d spent my entire flight from Chicago to LA worried what I’d come home to.

Certainly, I hadn’t expected this.

Leaving my bag near the front door, I took off my purse and tossed it on the kitchen counter, careful not to knock over any of the candles.

I followed the path of rose petals through my apartment—past the expansive view of the city and into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Soft music was playing, lifting a grin to the corners of my lips.

I pushed my bedroom door open quietly, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Beckett was there, on my bed, surrounded by the fragrant rose petals. Candles burned brightly from every corner of the room, casting shadows and light across the fine features of his face and bare chest. The sight of him kneeling there stole my breath right from my lungs.

Not because I was seeing his slim hips for the first time in more than half a year. Not because of his tanned skin or even the slight muscles in his arms and legs.

No, the reason I couldn’t breathe had nothing to do with the sight of his body and everything to do with the fact that he was slamming his dick into the backside of the girl I’d always considered my best friend.

Brooklyn’s cheek was flat against the mattress, her arms spread out at her sides as she stuck her naked ass up in the air, propped up by two of my favorite throw pillows.

Her mouth hung open and her eyes were squeezed shut, and the noises she was making were nothing I’d ever heard before—and something I never wanted to hear again.

Beckett grabbed hold of her hips and thrust. The wet slap, slap, slap made my stomach twist and bile creep up my throat. I took a step backward, then another. Then I spun on my heels and rushed back to my purse, grabbing my carry-on before running from my apartment as fast as I could.

I was out on the street before I stopped to think. Once there, pressure built inside my head as a sharp pain stabbed at my chest. Heat bubbled up through every inch of my body until I was sure I’d explode.

How dare they? How dare Beckett cheat on me? How dare Brooklyn fuck my boyfriend in my bed?

Vision blurring, I tugged my phone out of my purse and struggled to unlock it, then scrambled to find the app I wanted as hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.

I ordered a car to pick me up and paced the sidewalk until it finally arrived.

Once inside, I gave the woman an address and sat in silence as she drove me up into the Hollywood Hills.

When she pulled up out front, I dove from the back seat, my emotions threatening to tear down the wall I’d shoved them behind. By the time Olivia Li answered the door, I was a bawling, sniveling mess.

“Sloane!” she cried before the wide smile on her face dropped faster than a load of bricks. “Oh my god, what happened?”

All I managed to say was, “Beckett.” But for my friend, that was enough. She wrapped her arms around me and held me as I cried. Eventually, she coaxed me forward until I was seated on the couch, curled around one of the pillows as I tried to control myself.

“What happened?” Olivia asked as she returned from the kitchen with a glass of water.

I blew my nose, then wiped at the tears that coated my cheeks. “I found Beckett fucking Brooklyn in my bed.”

“He did what?” Olivia nearly dropped the glass in her hand.

She fumbled with it, splashing liquid over her fingers before it dripped onto her plush white carpet.

She blinked hard, then glanced at the glass before looking back at me.

“Oh, honey.” She handed the water to me, then she sat on the couch beside me, her arm draped over the back. “What did you do?”

I shrugged and took a drink. “I came here.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Um, excuse me, sir? Could you please remove your dick from Brooklyn’s pussy and get the hell out of my apartment?’”

Olivia choked down a burst of laughter, and it brought a faint smile to my lips.

The smile faded when I remembered this was my life, not some show I was acting in. “I don’t know what to do.” It came out a whisper, but my friend heard.

“You’re going to stay here as long as you need,” she said, grabbing my hand. “And you’re going to kick his sorry ass out of your apartment and leave him behind, like you should have done years ago.”

A tear trickled down my cheek, curled under my jaw, and ran along my throat. “I don’t know if I can ever step foot inside that apartment again.”

“You don’t have to.” She squeezed my hand before a crooked grin graced her lips. “I’ll even go over there and kick him out for you.”

A hint of a laugh shook my shoulders. “I’m sure you would.”

Olivia was the best. Not only did she support me and cheer me on, but she also pushed me to do the things I wouldn’t have had the courage to do otherwise.

Like leaving Calvin Hobson and finding a manager who not only listened to me but also helped me achieve my goals and follow my dreams. She pushed me to put acting—especially the crappy roles Calvin insisted on lining up for me—fully behind me.

Olivia had also encouraged me to put Beckett in my rear-view mirror before I left to go on tour. Though I didn’t pull the plug on our relationship then, I knew now that it was a mistake.

My gaze drifted to the window looking out over the sparkling lights of the city.

Every muscle in my body ached, and pain built behind my eyes as they prickled with tears again.

I hated this. That I’d let myself stay with Beckett for so many years, and that I’d allowed myself to get attached to him in the first place.

I hated losing him, but more than that, I hated that he’d taken my best friend from me too.

Because I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive Brooklyn for what I saw tonight.

“I’ll tell you what.” Olivia squeezed my hand and drew my attention back to her. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower while I get the guest room set up for you. You can get some rest, and we’ll deal with Beckett and Brooklyn tomorrow, okay?”

My nod shook another tear loose. “Okay.”