Chapter 2
Sloane
All my crying brought on a migraine of epic proportions. Between that and the grief I was suffering over the loss of the life I hadn’t had for years, it was days before I felt up to stepping outside of Olivia’s house.
By then, she’d convinced me to contact my manager, Monica Greer, to help handle the situation. Together, we came up with a plan.
For the first time since my father uprooted my family for my career twenty years ago, I was heading back to Chicago for good. Monica made some appointments for me to view a few condos, and she secured a moving company and a storage unit for all my belongings.
There were only a few things left to do: pack up my apartment, tell Brooklyn our friendship was over, and break up with Beckett for good.
Back in my apartment, I was just reaching for my tea pot in my kitchen cupboard when the front door swung open.
The pot clattered against the shelf, and I barely kept hold of it before I could set it on the counter and turn around.
My stomach twisted as Beckett came in, all too-bright smiles and golden skin.
His signature blond curls bounced around his forehead—curls I used to love wrapping around my fingers while we were watching movies in my bed.
Now the sight made me want to grab the scissors behind me and cut them off.
“Sloane, baby!” He rounded the kitchen island, only stopping his advance when his attention landed on my hand wrapped around the scissors. He glanced at the mess of boxes in the corner of the room and his fake smile faltered slightly before he turned it back on me.
Beckett spread his arms wide, and the thought of going to him, of letting him wrap me in an embrace the way I’d always done in the past, made my skin crawl.
When I didn’t move toward him, that smile changed into something else, something I couldn’t explain but that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me your little trip made you forget who loves you most.”
My chest squeezed tight at the words Beckett had been telling me since my father died. His promise that he’d love me enough to make up for what I’d lost was worth less than the air he breathed.
“How can you say that?” I was proud of myself for not letting my voice shake when I forced out those words.
I was even more proud of myself for not punching Beckett in the face when he responded.
“Easy, baby. Your love sustains me. It makes loving you worth it.”
The deep calming breath I took did little to relieve the anger that rolled through me, especially when Beckett continued toward me like nothing was wrong at all.
“It’s about time you got home. I can’t tell you how much I missed your body. I came over as soon as I knew you’d be here.” He grabbed my hips and yanked me against him despite the scissors in my hand. When he leaned in to kiss me, I put my free hand in his face and slid out of his grip.
“Actually, I’ve been home for a couple days.”
Beckett had always been a B-list actor, known more for his charisma and charm than for his acting skills.
Still, he’d fooled me into believing him for so long, and I almost believed the hurt look he donned now.
“I would have known if you were here, baby.” He brought his hands to his chest as a pout pulled out his bottom lip.
“My heart would have known if you came home. It loves you too much.”
“Then I guess your heart is wrong.”
He scoffed and shook his head, glancing at the box packed with dishes on the counter next to him. His composure started to wither away. “Sure. Okay. I’ll bite. When did you get home?”
“Sunday night.”
Something flashed behind Beckett’s eyes, and I swore his ever-present fake smile tempered. “Don’t lie to me.”
“No lies.” I crossed my arms over my chest, showing off the scissors I still gripped tight. “It was quite lovely, really. Candles everywhere and a flower petal trail leading to the bedroom. But really, the thing I can’t get out of my head is the look on Brooklyn’s face as you fucked her in my bed.”
His nostrils flared as the wheels in his head spun so fast, I could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. Then, an easy smile creased his lips.
“What did you expect? You were gone for half a year. I have needs.”
“I expect that my boyfriend won’t cheat on me, Beckett. It’s not like you didn’t have the means to fly out to see me.”
He scoffed. “I have a life, Sloane. Are you really so delusional to think I’d follow you around the country like one of your little fans?” He threw his hands up at his sides. “Of course I’m going to find someone to fuck when you’re not around. What else am I supposed to do?”
A horrible realization hit me. “Wait, have you slept with someone other than Brooklyn?”
He didn’t bother answering, but he didn’t need to. The smug look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
“This stupid little hobby of yours is getting in my way. First, you flopped on audition after audition that Calvin worked his ass off to secure for you. Then, you made the stupid mistake of leaving him for that other bitch so you could”—he made air quotes—“focus on singing, and then you left me—me, Beckett Giles—to run off for this nonsense. You need to drop this shit and come back where you belong.”
Voice quivering, I asked, “And where is that?”
“Right here.” Beckett pointed a finger at the floor, then took a single step forward. “You’re nothing without me, and it’s about time you learned it.”
I swallowed hard. Then, with my heart pounding in my ears, I gave him a nod. But I wiped the triumphant smile off his face when I told him, “I’d rather be nothing without you than spend another minute of my life being who you want me to be.”
His eyes flared before he took another step toward me. I was sure the only thing stopping him from coming closer was the pair of scissors in my raised hand and his uncertainty over my own acting skills. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes.
“We’re over, Beckett. Get out of my apartment and stay out of my life. I’ll leave your shit on the bed, and you can come get it this weekend after I’ve moved out.”
“That’s how you’re going to play this?” He shook his head and cast a glance around the room. “You’re making a mistake, Sloane. Everything you’ve worked for? Your entire life? It’s over. You’re going to regret this.”
“The only thing I regret is you.”
He scowled at me, then spun on his heel and left the way he came in—taking the air out of the room with him as he went.
My entire body was shaking; my knees felt ready to give out.
I grabbed hold of the kitchen counter to steady myself, taking deep breaths to clear the battle raging through my mind.
Blood whooshed through my ears, the sound nearly deafening as I fell into a chair.
With one problem gone, I still had another to deal with. Somehow, this one felt bigger.
Unsure of how much time had passed, my head cradled in my arms, I finally felt like I could breathe. With a still-shaking hand, I reached for my phone and looked over the message I’d been too chicken to send before.
Me: I saw you with Beckett in my apartment Sunday night. I thought you were my friend, but you proved me wrong. Stay away from me. Do not contact me. You two deserve each other. Goodbye.
I couldn’t wait any longer. If Beckett got to her first, he’d spin a tale to paint me as the bad guy, just like he did to anyone who got in his way. With new-found confidence, I reached out and pushed send.
My split from Beckett became public the day the moving truck pulled up outside my California apartment building and the movers started hauling my belongings away.
Shortly after, Beckett and Brooklyn stepped out together, causing the rumors to spread.
I swore they did everything possible to keep their faces splashed across every tabloid and news outlet that existed.
Dinner out at fancy restaurants. Walking the red carpet at a movie premiere.
On the set of That’s Us, where Beckett had apparently worked to get her a speaking part on the popular show.
Meanwhile, I was working to put my life back together and stay out of the spotlight. Which wasn’t too hard, considering I was living with my mom, sister, and grandmother until I could close on my new condo and move out.
That moment couldn’t come soon enough.
“Sloane? Did you steal my box of tampons?” my little sister yelled across the house as I tried to reach around my grandmother to get a travel mug out of the cupboard over her head. “I left it right next to my Switch and it’s not here anymore!”
“I didn’t steal your tampons,” I yelled back, twisting off the lid of my mug. Nana clicked her tongue at me as I reached around her again for the pot of coffee.
“Did you take my Switch? I swear on all things holy, Sloane, if you—”
Nana whacked my shoulder with the folded-over newspaper she’d been reading. “No stealing your sister’s things, Sloane. If you want something, you ask.”
“I didn’t—” I stopped, took a calming breath, and tried again in a quieter voice. “I don’t even know what a Switch is, Nana.”
“Sloane!” Skylar yelled again before she let out a squeal that probably had the neighbor’s dogs howling. “Never mind, I found them.”
“Where were they?” my mother called from somewhere else in the house.
“Under the bathroom sink.” Skylar burst into the room, waving two tampons in one hand and some electronic device in the other.
She smacked her lips on Nana’s cheek, then grabbed my mug and the cinnamon roll I was reaching for before rushing toward the door.
“Come on, people! I’m going to be late for school! ”
Nana topped off her coffee mug on the counter, snagged the cinnamon roll from my fingers before I could take a bite, then was out the door before I could complain.