Moth to a Flame

by Cambria Hebert

  Her grip lessened, but she didn’t pull away. I stood, taking the stuff Callie was carrying and setting it aside.

  “Can you tell the director I need a few extra minutes to prepare for the scene?”

  “On it.” Callie nodded. Her eyes strayed to Zoey. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No,” she said instantly, confirming my instincts. “I just need a minute. I, ah... missed lunch.”

  “Low blood sugar.” My assistant nodded gravely. “It happens to me too.”

  Suppressing a smile, I shooed her out, then locked the door behind her.

  “Low blood sugar, huh?” I kept my tone teasing.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “Just another lie among many.”

  I frowned, picked up her bag, and held it out. “Do you need anything in here?”

  Shyly, she took the bag without a word and pulled out the familiar bottle of pills. Guilt encompassed me as I watched her swallow two.

  “What happened?” she asked, lowering the water from her lips.

  “I was coming back from set to find you.” When she looked up, I motioned to my face so she knew I meant it was work related. “There were two reporters trailing you. They must have snuck onto the lot. So I slipped between some trailers, and when you passed—”

  “You pulled me in.” She finished, leaning her cheek against the cushions again.

  “You started to scream, so I covered your mouth. I thought you knew it was me. You looked right at me, but then you sort of...” I searched for a way to describe how she sort of left her body like a ghost.

  “Went lights out?”

  I half smiled. “Yeah.”

  “I had a panic attack,” she said, once again refusing to look at me.

  “Because I grabbed you?”

  She hesitated, then spoke. “I’ve been a little on edge since yesterday.”

  “I was honestly just trying to keep the press away from you.”

  She nodded. “Did they see us?”

  “No. I called security after I brought you in here. They’re gone by now.”

  She took another sip of the water, pulled the bottle back, and glanced at it. “You even drink fancy water.”

  I felt my brows rise. “I do?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “Callie is the one that stocks it, not me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s something fancy people say.”

  I chuckled.

  “Come on,” she said, sitting forward. “You need makeup.” Her movements were a little too fast, and she dipped back, dizzy.

  “Whoa.” I put an arm across her back, keeping her upright.

  Gazing up, her eyes met mine. That same feeling I had this morning electrocuted me, making my insides buzz.

  “Take your time,” I whispered, shifting so my body was closer and more of me was there to support her weight.

  She relaxed into me for the span of a single heartbeat. It didn’t matter it was a fleeting second because it was more than enough time for satisfaction to hum across my skin.

  Jolting up, her body left mine and she slid until she was just perched on the edge of the couch, sending a clear message of the boundaries she wanted to keep between us. “Let’s get to work.”

  “If you still need a minute—”

  “I don’t.” She cut me off. “Makeup is sort of my happy place.”

  I was glad she had something to give her peace.

  But I was jealous too.

  Jealous the thing giving her peace wasn’t me.

  I learned something today. Passing out for a while did not count as a nap. Kind of a shame, wasn’t it? I mean, couldn’t something good come out of nearly face planting on the pavement in front of the actual sexiest man alive?

  Guess not, because I was bone tired. My muscles were tight, my neck stiff, and I couldn’t wait to get home and stretch out. I needed it. My hamstrings needed it. The last thing I wanted or needed was a contracture that made it hard to walk.

  I was trying to avoid drawing attention, constantly reminding people I was missing part of my leg.

  Overhearing Jessica and Laura still circulated in the back of my mind even though it had been hours ago. As much as I tried to ignore the whispers, it wasn’t easy. Especially when I was mentally exhausted.

  Everyone stayed late to make up for the lost time yesterday, but I was still one of the last to leave. Hoping to avoid the press waiting for us all to leave, I stayed behind to clean makeup brushes.

  Once they were clean and drying for the night, I grabbed my bag, pausing beside the one I’d forgotten about. Nick’s sweats. If I’d been thinking clearly earlier, I could have had Callie grab them and put them back in his trailer.

  But I wasn’t thinking clearly. They were too expensive to just leave lying out, so I looped the handles around my wrist and left.

  The filming lot was a little creepy at this time of night. Okay, it was a lot creepy right now. What was usually bustling with noise and crew was eerily quiet and dark. Streetlights created bright spots on the pavement that gave way to shadowy patches.

  Basically, the set looked like a giant parking lot filled with trailers, buildings that looked like warehouses, and a bunch of other heavy equipment. My sneakers were quiet as I walked past a few dark trailers and a row of parked golf carts.

  The back of my neck prickled with caution, and the flashback from earlier today resurfaced in my mind. Drawing in a deep breath and pressing my palm to my pounding chest, I continued on. Briefly, I thought about going back into the makeup trailer and calling for security to walk me to my car, but I was already halfway there and I was being ridiculous.

  I was at work. On a gated set with security and cameras everywhere.

  The shrill sound of metal rubbing against metal brought me up short. Bang! Alarmed, I jumped about a foot in the air. Pain clenched around the back of my upper leg, making me stumble. Leaning over, I grabbed the back of my thigh, sucking in a breath while adrenaline surged through my limbs.

  Pain still squeezing my leg, I forced myself upright, favoring my right foot. The bag hanging from my wrist banged against my side when I spun, glancing around for the source of the noises.

  Deep in the back of the lot was a set that looked like a busy street in the middle of a city. The buildings were tall, the sidewalks looked real, and when it was all lit up and bustling with extras, a person might actually believe they were in Chicago or New York City.

  Right now, it appeared abandoned. Like a ghost town evacuated in the midst of an emergency. The street was shadowy, the buildings hollow. The only sign of life was the disturbing sounds from a moment ago.

  It was all too easy to feel like I was walking home at night, alone on the streets, being stalked from one of those dark windows above...

  A large piece of equipment started up and drove out from behind one of the buildings, going straight down the middle of the street. Headlights lit up everything, including the large pile of wood it was transporting.

  The man driving yelled something, and someone shouted in return.

  Relief made me shoulders sag. Starting forward again, I winced at the tightness in the back of my leg, the muscles cramping with pain.

  I was too tired for this.

  Since no one was around, I allowed myself to limp a little and take some weight off the constricting hamstring.

  My car came into view, so I straightened, forcing myself to walk normally now that I was in a place where I knew other people could be. Not far from where I parked was the tall fence line blocking off our sets from the street. Moving forward, my eyes scanned for reporters or any other busybodies that might be hanging around.

  It seemed they’d all gone home for the day, which made my staying longer well worth it even if I was tired and cramping up.

  Pulling my bag in front of me, I started digging around for my keys. You know how it is. The keys are always somehow crammed at the very bottom of the bag, buried underneath all the stuff you carried around
because you just might need it.

  Just as my hand closed around them, commotion broke out around me.

  “There she is!” someone yelled.

  Rushing feet and excited voices filled the quiet of the parking area. I glanced up, only to recoil when harsh, bright light shone right into my eyes, nearly blinding me.

  Throwing my arm up to shield my eyes, my keys made a jangling sound as they dangled from my fingers.

  “Miss Halston?” someone shouted. “Zoey!”

  I was surrounded in a matter of seconds. The lack of time they gave me to escape was actually scarily impressive.

  “Zoey Halston, can you give us a comment on what happened on set yesterday?”

  “Were you hurt in the accident?”

  “What was it like being saved by Nick Preston himself?”

  My head swam with the onslaught of questions, and I didn’t know how to react. Keeping my arm up to shelter my face, I turned toward my car, wanting nothing more than to escape.

  I was surrounded. How had I not seen these people? How did they get onto the lot?

  Why wouldn’t they go away?

  I tried to push through, but they pushed back, preventing me from fleeing.

  “Please, just a few words,” someone yelled from behind the blinding light.

  “No comment!” I said, my voice sounding a lot less powerful than I intended.

  “Are you dating Nick Preston?”

  “What’s your relationship with the sexiest man alive?”

  Dizziness washed over me, making my world tilt sideways. Lowering my hand, I blinked profusely, trying to right the universe again.

  “Please lower the light,” I said, squinting, swaying on my feet. “It’s so bright.”

  The cameraman angled the light down slightly, barely enough to do anything except make my eyes stop watering.

  Just as I turned to run, someone grabbed my arm, spinning me back. I cried out, my car keys falling out of my grip. The sound of them slapping on the pavement was an ominous blow.

  Breathing became something I had to think about, something no longer natural. The light came back full force, and I shied away like I was being struck by fists and not overwhelming sensations.

  “Everyone, step back!” a familiar voice yelled. “Give her some space!”

  Blinking, I glanced up, my vision still showing double.

  A smiling woman appeared, but she wasn’t friendly. It was Candace Grimes. The woman who started all this in the first place. Anger lit me up inside, blissfully pushing back some of the panic and unsteadiness overcoming me.

  “You,” I spat.

  “Nice to see you again, Zoey.” Candace smiled, serene. “I’d very much like to get a statement from you. Or maybe even an exclusive interview on Hollywood Access.”

  A few other vultures started yelling their own offers and vying for my attention.

  I didn’t look away from Candace and her smirking expression. She knew I didn’t want to talk, but she didn’t care. Dislike swelled up inside me so swiftly it made my stomach roll.

  Swallowing back the rising bile, I glanced around for my keys. Spots swam before my eyes and everything was still fuzzy, but I looked anyway, desperate to get out of here.

  “Looking for these?”

  Lifting my eyes, I saw my keys in the palm of Candace’s hand. I started for them, but her fingers closed around them and she pulled her arm back. “The statement first.”

  “Security!” I shrieked, angling my face toward the gates where the guards were posted. Glancing back at her, I narrowed my eyes. “Give me my keys.”

  “What is your relationship with Nick Preston?”

  My upper lip curled. “There isn’t one.”

  I reached for the keys.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  I froze.

  Sensing she’d taken me off guard, she advanced. “People on set yesterday say they saw a glimpse of your face. That it looked different.”

  A sound ripped from my throat, and I lunged for my keys. My hamstring clenched, making me stumble and cry out. The bag hanging around my wrist hit the ground and tumbled over. Palming the back of my leg, I began to wilt under defeat.

  The chaos assaulting me was suddenly obscured. Warm strength encompassed me like a shield protecting me from deadly blows or an umbrella concealing me from the rain. Arms slid around me, supporting my weight, making it so I could stand tall. One large palm buried itself against the back of my head, pushing my face into the protection of a wide, unforgiving chest.

  I breathed in deep, recognizing the scent, comforted by it.

  Nick.

  Bedlam erupted. The people crowding around pressed in. I felt their energy clawing at me, trying to attack. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how close they came because they wouldn’t get past my defense.

  They wouldn’t get past Nick. He wouldn’t let them. I didn’t know anything else in that fleeting second, but I did know that.

  More bright light beamed. Question after question was thrown at us like daggers at a target.

  The arms around me strengthened as if he drew strength from their battle and couldn’t possibly be drained. Winding my arms around his lean waist, I hugged him as tight as my limbs would allow. He felt me shifting onto my right foot and shifted himself, adjusting so more of my weight was his to bear.

  My stomach burned and tumbled. The anxiety overwhelming me was pushed away by something entirely different.

  “This is below you, Candace,” I heard him rumble, the sound of his voice making my toes curl in my sneaker.

  I don’t know what she said, what anyone else said, because he was here and it didn’t matter. My eyes slipped closed; my body felt heavy.

  Once again, Nick was protecting me, shielding me from a storm he probably didn’t even understand. I clung to him as strangers tried to close in, believing he would guard me even if it meant taking a few hits himself.

  No one else had done that for me before. I’d never dream of asking, but I didn’t have to, did I? Nick was here all on his own.

  Nick, my rooted tree, my unlikely hero.

  The man who had somehow become something more than a stranger.

  “Can you walk?” I asked quietly right beside her ear.

  I felt her brief nod against my chest, but honestly, I had my doubts. I saw her stagger when I pushed through the crowd. Even now, she favored her right side, making me worry about her left.

  Security pounded across the pavement, shouting and blowing whistles. What a freaking clusterfuck this was. Ignoring it all, I bent, scooping up the bag she dropped and her along with it.

  She gasped but didn’t fight to get away. Instead, her arms looped around my neck and she buried her face close.

  The press, of course, ate it up. Internally, I cringed but refused to show it. My publicist was going to shit a brick. Candace stood in the center of everyone, untouched by the storm of reporters and security. Our eyes collided, and a shrewd look shone in her gaze. Stalking forward, I snatched the keys out of her hand and shoved through the people.

  The headlights on Zoey’s car lit up when I hit the remote, so I went around the black four-door, quickly sitting her in the passenger seat.

  People crowded the car, taking photos, asking questions, and rebuffing the pathetic security on duty. Instead of shoving through, I hopped onto the hood, leaping over it and slipping in through the driver’s door.

  Zoey sank low in her seat, holding her arms up to shield her face.

  Starting up the engine, I pulled the cap off my head, tugging it over hers, offering a bit more defense.

  Revving the engine, I reversed, not even waiting to see if the press moved the hell out of the way. Speeding off the lot, I turned onto the main road, not slowing until I was several streets over and sure I wasn’t being followed. Only then did I adjust the seat so I could drive more comfortably.

  Glancing across the dim interior, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I�
��m fine,” she replied, but her voice was strained. Both hands wrapped around her left thigh, kneading the hamstring.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  Her head shot up. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes under the brim of my hat, I felt the intensity and surprise behind the stare. “What?”

  “Those vultures,” I spat. “Did they fucking touch you?”

  Her head shook. “No.”

  “Why are you holding your leg like that?”

  Dipping her head as though she’d been caught doing something embarrassing, she cleared her throat. “It’s nothing,” she murmured, releasing her leg and sitting up. Her lips pulled into a taut line, and breath hissed between her lips.

  “That’s not nothing,” I said, taking a turn a little too fast.

  She grabbed her leg again, rubbing at the muscles.

  A low curse dropped from my lips. I slowed the car immediately, putting in an effort to drive as smooth as possible.

  “It’s a contracture,” she stated. “My hamstring is contracting. Tightening up.” She clarified. “It kinda feels like a charley horse, if you’ve ever had one. It makes it hard to fully extend my leg...” She paused, her voice lowered. “It’s difficult to walk with the prothesis when it happens.”

  I digested that while glancing in all the mirrors, verifying we were still driving without a tail. “That happen a lot?”

  “It was just a long day,” she said.

  Turning the wheel abruptly, the car veered into the lot of a local fast food joint.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

  I didn’t answer as I steered around the building into the back of the lot and pulled into a spot where there was no streetlight. Leaving the car running, I jumped out, jogging to the passenger side.

  Her hands pressed against her chest when I wrenched open her door and squatted in the opening. Ignoring her suspicious expression, I hit the small button on the side of the seat. It slid back, giving me more room.

  “Don’t.” She gasped, trying to pull away when my hands slipped under her legs to pull her around, facing me.

  Her attempts were simple to avoid. The moment my hands wrapped around her leg, breath hissed from between her lips.