Chapter XVII
XVII
Levi
“There’s still time to turn around,” Edwin says from the driver’s seat when he hears me groan.
“And disappoint Ana? Not a chance.”
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s everything.” The words come without conscious thought, and hearing them in my voice, from my mouth, startles me. She’s everything? God, I need to rein myself in.
“She must be if you’re up with the sun on your day off. That’s the best kind of sacrifice—making your woman happy.”
“She’s not . . .” I trail off. Am I going to argue that she’s not my woman? After our sleepover last week, it feels like she is. I want her to feel like she is. “She’s not hard to please,” I say instead.
Because now that she’s opened up to me the way she has, I can’t stand the rumors that she’s difficult.
They’re lies. She’s not difficult; she’s guarded.
She’s not inconsiderate; she’s pulled in a million different directions.
She’s not prickly; she just has an instinct for self-preservation.
The more she lets me in, the more I feel the bite of the way she’s often treated.
How she’s been undermined by people who are supposed to be her peers.
The closer she and I get, the more this knowledge gnaws at me.
“Hey, cowboy! You looked great on horseback yesterday.” Ana walks toward me in the Radnor Lake parking lot.
“We might be in Nashville, but I’m sure not a cowboy.” I pull her in for a quick hug. Wrapping my arms around her waist, my palms find the exposed skin at her lower back, below her cropped tank. “You sure this is how you want to spend the day?”
“Emily said this is barely a hike. It’s just walking around the lake.
It’ll be good to get some fresh air before it gets too hot.
” She takes my hand and leads me in the direction of the visitor’s center, though it appears to be closed.
We study the posted map and decide to try the South Cove Trail, a meager 1. 4 miles. Ana leads the way.
The sun streams through the canopy of trees surrounding the lake, speckling the ground with shadows and bursts of light. A bit of morning dew lingers in the smell of damp earth. It reminds me of early mornings back home. I take a long, deep breath.
“You truly were so impressive yesterday.” She turns to meet my eyes. “Seeing you in your element, even just in the moments between my scenes, was really incredible.”
“It was a nice break from all the hand-to-hand stuff we’ve been doing, even if my hips are worse for it today. I may need a piggyback ride at some point.”
“At your service.” She stops in front of me and bends slightly at the waist as if I might actually climb on her back.
It puts her ass in line with my pelvis, and a flash of possibility, of taking her from behind, clouds my vision.
I give her a gentle swat on the butt to encourage her to keep moving, and I feel gratified at the choked sound it prompts in her throat.
“So, is this a typical Saturday morning for you? Going on hikes?” I’m desperate to redirect my wandering thoughts.
Her head tilts back and forth, like she’s weighing her answer.
“Staying active is good for my joints and helps clear my head. To be honest, this sort of exercise—enjoying nature, not tracking the calories burned—is a reclamation of sorts. A middle finger to the years I spent trying to control my body. My teenage self would be proud.”
She goes out of her way to step on a leaf, keeping her focus on the ground as she presses it underfoot. It doesn’t crunch the way I know she wants it to.
“I imagine growing up in the industry made it difficult.”
She swings her eyes back to mine. “Want to hear something really fucked up?”
“Always. Don’t we all want to know the secret ugly stuff, if we’re being honest?”
“‘Ugly’ might be too tame for this.” She takes a deep breath and looks around to confirm we’re alone. This is that kind of thing. I catch up to her so we’re side by side.
“When I was thirteen, just a year into my acting career, I had an agent named Roy. God, even the name sounds skeevy coming out of my mouth. He and my mom controlled everything about my life at the time—the roles I auditioned for, what sort of clothes I wore, who I was allowed to be seen with. And I get it. I was a minor. I needed adults to navigate the business stuff for me. But Roy was very concerned about how my body was changing as I entered my teen years. He made constant comments about me filling out and getting round in the hips and shit like that.”
“A grown man was saying that to you when you were thirteen?” I feel my eyes narrow, my brows pinch. Bile starts to rise in my throat.
“And somehow that’s not the fucked-up part, if you can believe it.
Every morning, my mom would give me a protein shake.
She said it would help me avoid growing pains because it had magnesium, maybe potassium, or something.
I drank them for two years before I learned they were SlimFast shakes with a dose of laxatives.
Roy and my mom decided they’d ‘keep me thin’ so I could continue to book roles—and make them money—playing younger than I was.
Get the cute little sidekick jobs that had become my niche because, clearly, they weren’t confident I was cut out for anything else.
It was for my career, they said. We were just trying to help, and all that bullshit.
The minute I turned sixteen, I filed for emancipation and got a new agent. ”
“You know that’s abuse, right?”
“If you ever see a headline about me being estranged from my family, now you know why.” Her shoulders lift in a shrug.
“So yeah, like I said—my relationship with food, exercise, the way I view my body—it’s tough for me, because even my mother didn’t think I had what it took to be successful unless I looked a certain way. ”
“And yet here you are, filming the biggest role of your career.”
“I hope she sees my face everywhere. And my hips everywhere.”
She laughs, and the rage-filled heat that had been building behind my eyes softens and settles in my chest. Everything feels right when she laughs. I want more of it, and I want more of her. I want to know everything.
“And then what? What were those years like between leaving home and Athena’s War?”
“Lots of peanut butter sandwiches,” she says with a wink.
“First, I found Emily—she was trying to get her foot in the door as a manager. I needed a place to stay and a new direction for my career, and she gave me both. I swear, we were fueled by spite and just enough delusion to hustle our way into rooms that weren’t meant for us those first few years.
She convinced me I could play anything. The girl next door in She’s All Mine.
A bombshell in that streaming frat house series—Tight Quarters.
The romantic lead in Match Made in Heaven.
She won’t take no when it comes to my career—from me or anyone else. ”
“And suddenly I’m regretting never watching Tight Quarters.”
She smiles, and now I’m the one feeling warm.
“Making the transition from child star to respected adult actor is . . . It’s not easy.
With Athena’s War, I felt like maybe—finally—I’d done it.
They wanted me for the title role, this really meaty role, that wasn’t about my looks or sex appeal. And then the story about Colt dropped.”
I guide us left at a fork in the path. Ana dodges a fallen branch and shrugs, like I know what happens next in the story.
“Well, as fun as it’s been trauma-dumping on you, can we talk logistics for the People interview on Friday morning? You have the details?”
“You mean, did my agent Sherry call me, absolutely giddy, to tell me—at least three times—that we booked a two-page spread? She also gave me a ten-minute crash course in media training that we’ll have to hope is enough.”
“It’ll be fine.” Ana brings an arm around my waist. She fits perfectly in the space under my shoulder. “Have you done press like this before?”
“You know I haven’t. You take the lead, and I’ll be the strong, silent type.”
“Well, the public thinks you’re sweet, protective, loyal, and handsome. So do that.”
“Do you think I’m handsome?”
“Right now, I think you’re fishing for a compliment.”
“And if I am?”
She rolls her eyes, but without conviction. “You’re more than handsome, Levi. You’re—”
“The most attractive man you’ve ever seen.”
“And humble too!” She elbows my ribs. “You know, it’s . . . this has been different from what I expected. This thing with you and me.”
“Go on,” I say, tucking her closer to me.
“I expected it to feel like a chore. Like another task to keep my career running smoothly. Another item on the checklist: costume fitting, personal training session, date with Levi, phone interview, and whatever else. I thought it would be another thing to budget energy for, but instead, I always leave you feeling . . . better. Buoyed.”
She kicks at a rock in our path. I wrap my hand around her shoulder and squeeze.
“It’s been surprising to me too. I assumed you’d be hard to work with.”
“You mean the press didn’t tee me up as sweet and loyal?” She laughs.
“They’ve got you all wrong. I’m not sure how you do it, putting up with this characterization of you that feels so obviously false. It must be tough.”
“Honestly, it’s not. It’s something I value, keeping the soft parts of myself hidden from public consumption. There’s so little that’s mine after all these years. I’m not eager to give myself up to folks who can’t be trusted.”
When I realize the implication of her words—that she trusts me—anticipation, excitement, and fear clash in my gut, like that top-of-the-roller-coaster feeling of being high on the excitement of what comes next .
. . but knowing that the danger is what makes it thrilling.
That’s where we are. The push and pull between the promise of how good this could be if it all goes well, and the awareness of how bad it could be if it doesn’t.