30. Amanda
Amanda
“I said move,” the voice behind me hisses.
I do.
Because I want to live.
Not just for me anymore.
For him.
For us.
God, please.
If You can hear me—Help him. Help Less.
Because he'd promised me he'd always come—and if he isn’t on time?
Oh no.
Don’t think that.
And I won’t.
Because for the first time in my life, I actually believed someone when they said forever.
And I don't want that forever to end.
Not now.
Not when I finally found my way back to him.
Not when I finally understand that loving someone always carries risk.
Not when I'm finally ready to stop being afraid.
Please.
Just let me see him again.
Just once more.
Because if I get another chance—I'll say yes.
To all of it.
To him.
To commitment and promises.
To forever.
To us.
The hidden passage behind my dressing room had led through old maintenance corridors I never knew existed.
Then, stairs—a lot of them.
Then another locked door.
And now—the roof.
The wind whips around us.
Thunder rolls overhead.
One of those strange summer storms where the sky is still gray blue with evening light while rain threatens in the distance.
My hair flies into my face.
The city stretches below.
Tiny lights.
Tiny people.
Tiny lives.
And suddenly I feel very, very small.
I don’t know why this is happening—but I also know I can’t just allow it.
I won’t be a victim—not for anyone.
“Please,” I whisper. “Don't do this.”
“Shut up!”
The voice cracks.
Not angry. Just emotional.
Crazed. Unstable.
I slowly turn and take it all in.
The hooded raincoat.
The baseball cap.
The mask.
Everything that’s hiding the face of the person pointing a gun at me—but it can’t hide who they are.
I think I know this person.
This is—oh no, it can’t be.
I must be wrong.
Sadness and fear war inside of me. Because if I’m right, if this is who I think it is.
Then this person is a friend.
Someone I trusted.
Someone who sat in my dressing room.
Someone who laughed with me.
Someone I cared about.
My chest hurts.
My stomach flips.
Rain and sweat soak through my clothes.
The truth is, I don't have many friends.
Never have.
Women always seemed to treat each other like competitors.
Like enemies.
And I hate that.
I hate believing that.
And I want it to not be true.
Especially right now.
My eyes fill with tears.
“Why are you doing this?” I can’t help but ask.
The masked figure trembles.
“Because you ruined everything!”
“What?”
“You always ruin everything!”
Hysterical laughter follows.
Lightning flashes overhead, followed by rolling thunder so loud it seems to shake the entire building.
The hood slips back a fraction.
And for one horrifying second—
I see eyes.
Familiar eyes.
My heart stops.
No.
Please no.
The figure jerks the hood all the way back.
Then the mask comes off.
And my world breaks.
I feel stupid.
Used.
Betrayed.
Because I believed her.
I trusted her.
God help me, I actually thought we'd become friends.
I don't have many of those.
Never really have.
Women always seemed to treat one another like competition, and I hated believing that stereotype.
I wanted something different.
I wanted Brielle to be different.
I wanted us to be real.
“Oh, God,” I whisper.
“Brielle?”
Rain whips around us.
My blood runs cold.
“Brielle, why?”
She laughs.
Actually laughs.
Only it doesn't sound like Brielle anymore.
The warmth is gone.
The sweetness.
The humor.
All of it stripped away.
What's left sounds sharp.
Broken.
Wrong.
“Are you really surprised?”
I stare at her.
Because yes.
Yes, I am.
“Brielle, I don't understand.”
“Of course you don't!”
Rain begins to fall harder.
Warm summer rain.
Heavy drops sting my skin.
Thunder rolls again.
And somehow it feels fitting.
Like even the sky knows betrayal when it sees it.
“Selfish bitch!” she screams. “You could never understand! You're just such a little superstar, aren't you? Perfect Miss Perkins!”
“Brielle, I'm not perfect,” I say carefully.
Trying to keep my voice calm.
Trying not to show how badly my hands are shaking.
Trying not to let her see how terrified I am.
“Of course you're not!” she snaps. “You're fat and plain without my help! I do the costumes! I do the makeup! I make you look like a goddamn star, but you get all the credit!”
Lightning flashes across her face.
And I don't recognize her.
Not anymore.
“What about me?” she screams.
“When is it my turn?”
“Bri—”
“No!”
Her scream echoes across the rooftop.
“All these years I've played fairy godmother to women like you, and nobody sees me!”
Tears stream down her face.
Rain mixes with them.
“Ever since we met, I've watched you get everything!”
“I didn't—”
“All the best roles! The best jobs! The interviews! The fans!”
Spit is flying from her mouth, and her bloodshot eyes look crazed and unfocused as she screams the last, “And now him!”
My stomach drops.
“Less?”
She laughs bitterly.
“Oh yes. Alessio Figueroa.”
Her expression twists.
“Bodyguard to the stars.”
I swallow.
Why is she talking about Less?
“He never even looked at me.”
What?
Oh no.
It’s true, I’d confided in her about him.
Girl talk—you know?
But maybe she took it wrong. Maybe she—oh God.
I don’t even want to consider that while I was sharing my secrets, Brille was plotting all this time.
“Brielle, I told you about my past as a friend. How could you—”
“You don't deserve him!”
The words explode from her.
“Do you know what it felt like watching him look at you? Watching him worship you? Watching him carry your tea and your stupid blanket and stare at you like you're some goddess?”
My heart hurts.
Not for me.
For her.
Because somewhere along the way, this woman became consumed by bitterness.
By loneliness.
By jealousy.
And now she's drowning in it.
“Brielle—”
“SHUT UP!”
She steps closer.
Raises the gun.
I freeze.
“I listened to you cry over him!” she screams.
“I listened while you doubted him! I listened while you questioned whether he loved you!”
Her eyes blaze.
“And he still chose you!”
The words come out broken.
Wounded.
“Do you know what that felt like?”
“I thought you were my friend,” I whisper again.
“Friend?”
She laughs.
A terrible sound.
“You are so pathetic!”
“All the while you were miserable it made it okay. You know? You could have the role because your love life sucked! But then he comes back and suddenly you're happy again! No, no no!”
She screams and pulls her hair with one hand.
“You don’t get to have everything! And everybody just loves Amanda Perkins!”
“Brielle, please stop and think—”
“Shut up! It’s unfair! Everybody loves you! Why? Why should you get everything?”
Her voice cracks.
“I get nothing! Nobody loves me!”
Something inside me breaks.
Because she's wrong and sick.
So horribly sick.
But she's too far gone to hear it.
“That's not true.”
“LIAR!”
Before I can react, she swings the gun sideways and strikes me across the face.
Pain explodes through my cheek.
I stumble and fall hard against the wet concrete.
Stars burst behind my eyes.
Blood floods my mouth.
The world spins.
“Stop making me feel sorry for you!” she sobs.
“Stop being so good!”
I push myself upright.
Dizzy.
Terrified.
My face throbbing.
But I refuse to give up.
Not now.
Not when I've finally found happiness.
Not when I've finally found Less.
Because I want him.
I want us.
I want forever.
And damn it—I deserve it. We both do.
“Brielle,” I whisper through the blood in my mouth.
“It’s not about luck or what we deserve. The fact is, I love him. We are in love, and you don’t just happen upon something like that—it’s fate. It’s a choice. I love him!”
She recoils like I've stabbed her.
“I know!”
“And he loves me.”
“SHUT UP!”
“But it never had anything to do with you! You don’t get someone to love you by hurting people!”
That earns me another blow.
My head snaps sideways.
Pain explodes.
And tears fill my eyes.
Not because it hurts.
Because I don't understand how everything became this.
How friendship became hatred.
How loneliness became obsession.
And then, just when it looks hopeless—the rooftop door explodes inward.
“AMANDA!”
It’s him.
My Less.
My heart leaps.
There he is.
He gets soaked by the rain in seconds.
He looks wild.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
And for the first time since this nightmare began—I know I'm going to survive.
Because he came.
Just like he promised.
Brielle’s attention flicks towards him.
My heart leaps.
He's immediately soaked by the elements.
But his eyes are wilder than the rain.
He looks terrified and furious, and I've never seen anything more stunning.
Brielle spins.
“No!”
“Put the gun down, Brielle!” Less roars.
“Stay back!”
“Brielle, stop please,” I beg.
She looks at me.
Really looks at me.
And for one horrible second—I see how sick she is.
How lonely.
How broken.
Then she backs away.
One step.
“She was just supposed to go away, and I was supposed to be a star! You weren’t supposed to show up! You weren’t supposed to love her!”
Another step.
“Put the gun down and kneel on the ground,” Less commands.
Others join us on the roof, Brielle looks at them and shakes her head.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she says, “Someone else always wins and I always lose!”
“Step away from the edge!” Less tries again.
One of his team creeps around the side, and I can see the second the man lunges for her.
Her heel slips on the rain-slick roof.
But he’s too far.
Too late.
Way too late.
“Brielle!” I scream.
Her eyes widen.
The gun falls from her hand.
Less lunges, catching the weapon before it falls.
My eyes are riveted to him.
Then they flick to Brielle, and I watch in horror as she disappears over the side of the building.
The scream cuts off abruptly.
Then—nothing.
Only thunder.
Only rain.
Only silence.
I collapse, but I don’t hit the ground because suddenly he's there.
“RUSTY!”
He wraps me up, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.
His chest shakes.
He's crying.
Shaking, as tears run down his face
“Fuck, Rusty, I thought I lost you.”
His voice breaks on the words.
Actually breaks.
And that destroys me.
Because this man—this stubborn, overprotective, impossible man—is shaking.
Alessio is trembling.
Rain pours around us.
Thunder crashes overhead.
But all I can feel are his arms around me.
Strong.
Safe.
Home.
“I’m okay,” I sob, throwing my arms around his neck and clinging to him with everything I have left.
He buries his face against my hair.
Against my neck.
Every breath coming out ragged.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispers.
“I know.”
“I couldn't find you.”
Another shudder runs through him.
“I got to that dressing room and you weren't there and—Jesus Christ, Amanda…”
He can't finish.
Because he's crying.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just quiet tears mixed with rain.
And somehow seeing that?
Seeing how much he loves me?
It breaks something open inside me.
I almost died.
We almost lost this.
Lost us.
Before we ever really got our chance.
And Brielle?
God.
Poor Brielle.
The woman I thought was my friend was hurting so badly she destroyed herself.
I hate that.
I hate all of it.
But standing here wrapped in Less' arms, I know one thing.
Less came for me.
He kept his promise.
The realization hits me like lightning.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Certainty.
Absolute certainty.
I pull back enough to cup his face.
Those beautiful dark eyes immediately lock onto mine.
“Hey,” he whispers frantically. “Are you hurt? Do you need—”
“Less.”
“Rusty—”
“No. Listen to me.”
He goes still immediately.
Because despite everything, he listens when it matters.
I smile through my tears.
“You know what the stupid part is?”
His brows furrow.
“What?”
“I wasted so much time being afraid.”
“Amanda—”
“I was scared you'd leave again.”
His face crumples.
“Baby—”
“I was scared to trust you.”
“I know.”
“I was scared of promises.”
He closes his eyes briefly.
And the pain on his face nearly kills me.
“But you came back.”
I stroke his cheek.
“You got help. You fought for us. You saved me.”
“Amanda, you don't owe me—”
“Stop.”
His mouth closes immediately.
“Alessio, I love you.”
He exhales like he's been holding his breath for years.
“I love you too, Rusty.”
“No, let me finish.”
His eyes widen.
Because now I'm crying and laughing at the same time.
Which is apparently my thing now.
“I almost lost you tonight.”
His forehead rests against mine.
“You'll never lose me.”
“I better not.”
“Never.”
And suddenly I know.
No fear.
No hesitation.
No doubts.
Just love.
Pure and simple.
I take both his hands in mine.
His eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Rusty?”
“Shut up and let me talk.”
A watery laugh escapes him.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Three years ago you broke my heart.”
He flinches.
“But you came back.”
“Amanda—”
“And I know we're both a little crazy.”
That earns me a snort.
“A little?”
I laugh.
“Okay, a lot crazy.”
“Accurate.”
“But I don't care anymore.”
His breathing stops.
“I love you.”
“Christ, Amanda—”
“And if we're being honest, I don't want another day without you.”
His eyes fill again.
“Baby…”
“So here's the thing, Less.”
I squeeze his hands tighter.
“You already bought the ring.”
His eyes go comically wide.
“You know about that?”
“You're not subtle.”
“Fuck.”
“And honestly?”
I smile through my tears.
“I think you've waited long enough. We both have.”
He blinks.
Actually, blinks.
“Rusty? What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying. I’m asking. Alessio Figueroa—”
My voice trembles.
But not from fear.
From hope.
From love.
From certainty.
“Will you marry me?”
For one entire second, he just stares.
Then the huge, terrifying bodyguard who once crossed an ocean to save strangers and fought his way through a hidden tunnel to find me tonight—
Starts sobbing.
“Jesus Christ,” he chokes out.
“Well?”
“Yes!”
He drops to his knees right there in the rain with me in his arms.
We’re both smiling and crying at the same time.
“Yes, Rusty. Fuck yes.”
“Yes? You will?” I ask again because I need to hear his answer again.
“A thousand fucking times yes.”
Then he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face against my stomach like he's thanking God Himself.
And holding the man I love beneath the stormy sky—I finally understand.
Sometimes forever isn't something to fear.
Sometimes forever looks like a big, tattooed blast from the past.
And I can't wait to get started on the rest of our lives together.