BARE: A Hollywood Romance (Exposed #2)

by Sarah Robinson

  She swung the door open. "What do you want, Jason?"

  "Lovely to see you, too, Ms. Reynolds." The agent waltzed through the doorway like he owned the place. "Nice studio you've got here. Fat cat."

  Teagan picked up Benson defensively. "He's husky."

  Jason didn't seem to care but pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase and placed them on the counter. "We've got some paperwork to go over, Ms. Reynolds. Oh, hello, Mrs. Lawson." Jason finally seemed to notice Aria standing in the kitchen. "Good to see you, as always."

  "Wish I could say the same," she replied, lifting one brow. Aria had never been a fan of agents in general, though Jason Allen rarely made friends if it wasn’t for his benefit.

  Teagan couldn't help but snicker at her comment. "What kind of paperwork?"

  "The contract for your role in the Broadway show has been finalized, and it's ready for you to sign." He held up a pen toward her. "And, then there's the non-disclosure agreement we discussed."

  "I already told you that I'm not signing that."

  "The contract or the NDA?"

  She nibbled on the edge of her lip. "The NDA, certainly. I'm not going to talk to the press about Reed. You don't have to worry about that."

  "Ms. Reynolds, indulge me. He's my client, and he deserves every bit of protection as you do. That protection has already been violated by you once, and I have zero plans on allowing it to happen again."

  "Me?" Teagan balked at the accusation. "I've not said anything to anyone."

  "You spoke pretty freely in front of that hairdresser, putting us in this predicament to begin with," Jason reminded her.

  "Only because you were basically accusing me of ruining Reed's life." Teagan put her hands on her hips. "I'd not have been saying anything at all if you weren't there."

  "Well, what's done is done," he replied. "But this contract? It's the best move for you here, Ms. Reynolds. This role is once in a lifetime, and to turn it down for a man currently behind bars certainly doesn't seem to be a desirable move."

  "He's still in jail?" Her voice was smaller now. She’d been trying to figure out where Reed was, or why she hadn’t heard from him for the past four days. Her calls had all gone unanswered, and she’d even tried going by his home to no avail. She’d assumed he’d been bailed out immediately, but apparently not.

  Aria stepped closer, placing her hands on the counter. "Teag, this role is huge. You can't turn it down. Talking to Reed…it can wait. He's made his choice already, and it wasn't you."

  Teagan swallowed hard, trying to wrap her head around the fact that her sister was actually agreeing with one of the most cunning and sleazy agents she'd ever met. They both did have a point…she couldn't—and wouldn't—turn down this role.

  Plus, she didn’t really owe him an explanation. He’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to talk and had ignored most of her calls before he’d been arrested. He’d stood up their date to go get drunk. She wasn’t going to wait around and hope he’d decide to talk to her when he got out of jail, when she really should just jump on this opportunity before it was too late.

  If he wanted to talk when he got out of jail…he’d know where to find her.

  "I'll sign the contract," Teagan agreed. "But only that. I'm not signing the non-disclosure agreement. I'm not going to talk to the press about us, but Reed…he doesn't deserve to control my silence."

  Jason's jaw clenched, and he exhaled loudly. "Okay, fine. Let's do this." He handed her a pen. “Sign here.”

  She looked over the contracts quickly, and everything seemed the same as when her lawyer had reviewed it.

  Teagan signed and then handed the pen back to him. "Done."

  "Great. Your flight is booked for tomorrow, and you've got a studio apartment waiting for you a block from the theatre. I'd suggest getting your affairs in Los Angeles in order as quickly as possible. Rehearsals start in two days."

  Teagan's eyes widened. "That's barely enough time to prepare."

  She didn't want to sound ungrateful—hell, she was ecstatic. This role was everything she'd ever wanted in her career, and she'd never had any intention of turning it down.

  "That's show business, baby," Jason said, tossing his arms up. "It doesn't stop for anyone."

  Teagan looked toward her sister, but Aria just looked sad. She was frustrated that Reed was ruining this moment for her. Teagan wanted to feel ecstatic. She wanted to be jumping up and down with her sister, screaming with excitement at a lifelong dream fulfilled. She wanted to be celebrating a victory that at one point in her life had seemed absolutely impossible.

  Instead, all she was thinking about was Reed, and her heart ached at everything she was losing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Reed Scott," a corrections officer called out into the large cell where he was being held with half a dozen other men. "Bail's been made."

  Reed stood from the rickety wooden bench and made his way out toward the front of the precinct where he saw his younger sister standing, nervously wringing her hands.

  "Penelope?" Reed furrowed his brows. "What are you doing here?"

  She put her hands on her hips. "Bailing you out, obviously."

  "Where's Nell?" He looked around for his niece, but thankfully he didn't see her. There was no way in hell he'd want her to see him like this—behind bars in jail, still wearing rumpled clothing from five days ago. He shouldn’t have even been in there so long for what he’d been charged with, but some old warrants had tripped him up for a while. To say he was irritated would be a freaking understatement.

  "As if I'd bring my daughter to pick up her uncle in jail." Penelope rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's get out of here. The car's out back."

  He finished signing the paperwork the desk officer set before him, and the officer handed him back his personal effects in a bag, which was pretty much just his wallet and cell phone. He followed his sister out of the precinct through the back door to avoid any press. They hopped in the car quickly and drove off.

  "We're going to my house, by the way. You're going to stay there." His sister aimed the car away from Los Angeles and in the direction of her home in the suburbs. "You're not going to be alone in a penthouse surrounded by photographers."

  He didn't argue. Instead, he leaned against the window and watched the landscape fly by. She wasn't wrong, either. There was no way he'd want to try and get through a throng of photographers again. He was embarrassed he'd tried to do it at all—and failed spectacularly.

  Reed pictured the bloodied face of the photographer he'd punched. Guilt washed over him, though he tried to shake it away. Luckily, he’d been informed that despite a few scratches and bruises, the reporter was fine. The things they'd said to him, the questions they'd asked—it was too much, too far. Whether or not that made his outburst excusable was another question he wasn't sure he wanted to answer right now.

  He pictured the photo of Teagan lying in that hospital bed. She'd told him about her accident, and he'd seen the scars. He'd already hated the fact that he hadn't been there to help her through that. No matter what had happened between them, he should have been there. But to know it had happened after their non-wedding? When she was probably crying and not paying as much attention to the road as she should have been?

  He was fucking devastated.

  Reed swallowed hard, trying to keep the lump in his throat at bay. Was there anything he hadn't taken from her? He'd loved her with everything inside him for years, and then he'd not only left her standing at their wedding altar but then alone in a hospital bed. He’d taken her wedding, her future marriage, and then her entire career—all because he hadn’t been mature enough to have an adult conversation with her before making such a rash decision.

  Shame welled in him, and it was damn near unbearable.

  "Are you going to call her?" Penelope glanced sideways at him as they drove.

  Reed didn't respond. He didn't even nod his head. He had no idea. Part of him wanted to call and explain, beg her
forgiveness and hope she hadn't even seen the news. Another part of him wanted to run and never see her again—for her sake. How much more pain could he cause her before he truly destroyed everything she was?

  "Reed? The least you can do is talk to me. I did just pay your bail." His sister slapped his arm as they pulled off the freeway. "Don't be rude."

  "Sorry." He sat up and ran his hands over his head. "I'm not trying to be rude. And I'm going to pay you back today, every cent."

  "You fucking better," she said with a laugh. "Jackson’ll kill you otherwise."

  The corners of Reed's lips lifted into a small smile at the mention of his brother-in-law. He would definitely be furious when he found out Penelope had, once again, saved his ass. It wouldn't be the first time, and at this point, Reed wasn't even sure it would be the last time.

  "I honestly don't know if I am going to call her," he admitted finally.

  Penelope scoffed. "Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought."

  He frowned. "Excuse me?"

  "If that article is true, that girl has given up everything for you. Not just then, but now. She put aside all her fears, all of the past, all of the things you did to her, and she gave you another chance. She loved you—again. Or maybe she never stopped, I don't know." Penelope turned the car into her driveway and pulled up to the garage. "All I do know is that you owe it to her to talk to her. Apologize, and then either beg her forgiveness for the umpteenth time or let her go and give her the closure she probably needs."

  Reed considered his sister's advice as he got out of the car. Despite the fact that she was his younger sister, he was always amazed at her wisdom and maturity. She definitely had him beat in that area.

  His phone vibrated in the plastic bag in his pocket. He pulled it out then shoved the empty bag back down in his pocket. There were four missed calls from Jason, and a voicemail. Reed sighed and lifted the receiver to his ear. If he was lucky, his already low battery would die before he heard the whole message.

  "Reed, I'm sending your sister to bail you out. You'll need to pay her back," Jason said in his voicemail. "I'd come myself, but I'm working on solving your issue. The reporter isn't going to press charges—I've talked to him. The tabloid is also not going to continue or follow up on the exposé. They can't do anything about it already being out there, but hopefully it'll just dissipate with the news cycle."

  Reed sighed, hoping that was true. He wanted that story gone as much as his agent probably did.

  Jason continued, "Oh, and one last thing, I got Reynolds a job in New York. She’s already left, and I strongly suggest you leave her alone. Your reputation really can't handle another hit like this one, and you two are clearly fodder for entertainment news. But also—and I rarely get personal, so listen the fuck up—you've done enough to the poor girl. She's a spitfire, but she's clearly one of the better people in Hollywood, which is hard to find. Just…just leave her alone, Reed."

  Reed clicked the delete button quickly and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Fuck. He wanted to punch something, or cry; he wasn't sure which. That was probably the most humane he'd seen his agent be in a while. To see him defending Teagan and showing compassion, it meant something. He'd seen her while Reed was in jail, and if he was saying this, it meant she was hurting. It meant Reed had hurt her…again.

  And then she'd left.

  Part of him didn’t even blame her. She should get as far away from his as possible. But then, in the same thought, he couldn’t believe she hadn’t even spoken to him. She hadn’t even said goodbye. Had they ever really had anything if she could just cut him out of her life like that? Losing her like that—or at all—made him feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

  He knew he had no right to think or feel that, but he couldn’t stop the frustration and hurt from building in him anyway.

  Reed hoped Jason had gotten her a fucking amazing role, because anything less was unacceptable. She deserved this more than anything. This might be the big break she wanted, the one she had turned down to marry him.

  He was not going to ruin it for her. Not again.

  "Uncle Reed!" Nell came flying out the front door and threw herself against his legs. "You're here! Do you want to see my new doll?"

  Reed laughed and hugged his niece, scooping her up into his arms as he walked her back into the house. "Sure, I'd love to."

  "Good. I named her Teagan, after your friend!"

  He swallowed and nodded, finally choking out, "That sounds great."

  "Are we going dancing with her again?" Nell asked. "I want to go dancing again!"

  "We'll see," Reed told her, unsure of how to really respond. Nell would forget about her question soon enough, but Reed wouldn't. He knew then and there that he couldn't just let her walk out of his life.

  He wasn't going to ask her to come back to him, or for a second chance. Well, technically, a third chance. That ship had sailed, and he wouldn't let her put herself in harm's way again by being with him. But, she did deserve an apology. She deserved an explanation of some sort, and maybe a chance to yell at him. Hell, he'd let her punch him if she wanted. And for himself? He may not deserve it, but he needed a goodbye.

  He needed to get his life in order first, but then he was going to go see her. He was going to give her the apology she deserved, and the closure that they both needed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Did a truck hit me?

  It sure felt like one had…and then backed up and hit her again. Teagan's eyes blinked open slowly, and she took in her surroundings. Florescent lights. Tubes. Beeping monitors. A white board with a name on it followed by “R.N.” next to a smiley face.

  Why am I in a hospital?

  "Teagan?" Her mother, Betty Reynolds, voice. She'd recognize that anywhere.

  Slowly, she tried to turn her head to find where it was coming from, where her mother was, but her neck sent screeching pain roaring up and down her torso. Strangely, the pain stopped about mid-way down her spine. "Mom?"

  "I'm here, baby. I'm here." Her mother's face came into view in front of her. "How are you feeling, Teagan?"

  "Uh, not great…"

  Her father, Jack Reynolds, chuckled, and she glanced over to where he stood at the foot of her bed. "That's an understatement, I'm sure."

  "What happened?" Teagan asked, lifting her arm slowly to rub her head. Her limbs felt so heavy, so forced, and it was a struggle to do even that. As she rubbed her temple, a rush of memories came back to her.

  Her white dress. Lace. She'd spent so many months looking for just the right one. The one he'd remember until they were old and gray.

  Standing in that dress, her sister breaking the news that he was gone. She'd fallen to her knees, sobbing. Her chest pounded and ached, like he'd reached right in and pulled her heart from its safe haven behind her ribs.

  Rushing from the chapel. She had to get out of there. She had to leave. He already had.

  Tears falling against the steering wheel. She drifted just a little too far to the left. Just a few feet, barely anything. Except there was another car there, heading right for her.

  Yanking the car to the right. She could fix this. She could save herself.

  The smell of burned rubber. The screeching of twisted metal. Searing pain, and then nothingness. Black and cold, there was nothing.

  Her dress was crumpled in a chair in the corner of the hospital room. It was streaked with black and red, rips and tears. Blood soaked through the lace, and it was almost beautiful if it hadn't been so painful.

  "Mom?"

  "Yes, baby." Her mother squeezed her hand.

  "Am I going to be okay?"

  Her mother tsked. "Why would you even ask that? Of course, you're going to be fine. You're alive, that's all that matters."

  "Tell her the truth, Betty." Her father interrupted. "She needs to know. The doctors said she needs to know."

  "Jack, no."

  My father looked straight at me. "Teagan, move your toes."r />
  She did.

  He shook his head, and her mother looked away.

  Frowning, Teagan pulled the blanket off her legs. Her first instinct was to cry, but she didn't. She just stared at the mangled mess of sutured and staples and metal braces holding her together. She wiggled her toes and she felt them moving, but her eyes…they saw nothing. Her toes didn't move. She felt it, but they didn't move.

  "I… I'm paralyzed?" The words didn't even seem possible. She was a dancer. She'd just been offered a role on Broadway—one she'd turned down for him. But even so, it was how she moved, how she lived. Dancing was her identity. It's who she was. It was how she breathed.

  No.

  "No," she said out loud this time. "No. This isn't happening."

  "Baby…" Her mother squeezed her hand again. "It's not the end of the world. It's going to be okay."

  "It's the end of my world." Her voice was louder now. "And it's just not an option. It's not an option. This is not me. This is not my story."

  Her mother looked at her with such sorrow and pain in her eyes. "Oh, Teagan. Of course not. You're so strong."

  "You'll be okay, baby girl," her father said, rubbing her leg.

  She watched him do it, but she didn't feel a thing.

  This is not my story.

  He was not going to write her story.

  The memories of that day flooded her as Teagan walked slowly across the stage of the famous Neil Simon Theatre, marveling at the fact that in just a few short days, she'd be performing there. The entire room seemed to be bathed in gold and was a stark contrast to the hospital room she’d laid in eight years ago.

  She’d decided back then that her accident wasn’t going to define her. She wasn’t going to lose her dreams—and here she was. Sure, she’d gotten a little lost along the way, given up a few times, but, in the end, she was here. She was living the vision she’d set for herself in college.

  It was insanely early in the morning, making her the only person on the stage aside from a janitor in the last row of the theatre vacuuming the aisles. The soft whir of his machine only added to the significance of the moment, vibrating through her like a crowd cheering and getting to their feet. She stared out at the rows and rows of chairs and the balconies above—almost fifteen hundred seats that would have almost fifteen hundred people every night watching her perform.