by Skye Jordan
But there was only one way to find out for sure. He hadn’t gone after her the first time she’d walked away. Hadn’t been willing to be a target for her colleagues. Hadn’t been willing to adjust to her new way of life. Hadn’t been willing to be overshadowed by her career.
But he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, because he wasn’t that boy anymore.
And this was his chance to prove it.
“Troy,” the director called. “We’re ready.”
He walked toward the opening but called over his shoulder to one of the production assistants. “Treena.”
The redhead fluttered to the front of the crew. “Right here.”
“I need a flight to Vegas. I want the first one you can get as soon as this is a wrap.”
“Done.”
At the window, now in a harness, Wes slapped Troy’s shoulder. “Good call, bro.”
Might be a good call, but it was based on a realization he should have made while Giselle had still been here. One he should have made seven years ago.
Troy climbed to the metal ledge of the skyscraper’s open wall a mile above Los Angeles, ready to jump out, hoping this revelation wasn’t too little, too late.
“Giselle Diamond,” she told the man at the front desk in a breathless rush. “Jax Chamberlin called—”
“Right,” the older man said, nodding. “Troy’s girl. Dave will escort you up.”
“Thank you.”
At the elevator of the deserted lobby, another man in a navy blue security guard’s uniform stood waiting for her, doors already open.
She stopped short and smiled up at the man. He was a little older than her, with a serious expression and close-cropped brown hair. “Oh, um…” She stared inside the elevator car. Wrung her hands. Licked her lips. “Can we take the stairs?”
“Mr. Jacobs is working on the sixty-second floor, ma’am.”
“Sixty-second?” Okay, that would take a while, but… “I know this is going to sound crazy, but, could we still take the stairs?”
His are-you-serious? look quickly transitioned into the why-me eye roll. “Yes, ma’am, the sixty-second floor. We could take the stairs—all twelve hundred and fifty-six of them—but, depending on your athletic stamina, that could take anywhere from twenty minutes to…an hour or more.”
That’s what she thought. Not an option. She forced a tight smile for the security guard and held up a finger. “Just one second.”
Lowering her gaze to the floor, she took a slow deep breath in through her nose, blew it out slowly through her mouth, and repeated that three times. She shook out her arms and stretched her fingers. Then cracked her neck both directions. Pushed her shoulders back. And stepped in.
Only to discover the ride to the floor where Troy was performing his stunt took several minutes.
Minutes that felt like hours.
A cold sweat prickled over her face and neck. She wiped her face with both hands while watching the numbers light up and go dark. She grew more light-headed with each floor they passed. By the thirties, she was leaning against the wall, gripping the handrail.
“Out of sixty-three floors, he’s on the sixty-second. Go figure, huh?”
“The top two are the only unfinished floors in the building,” he said. “Claustrophobic?”
“Yep.” She let the P pop from her lips, and massaged each finger in turn, microfocusing on the air moving in and out of her lungs, not on the crawl of her skin or the tightening of her throat or the roll of her stomach. “That obvious?”
“My wife’s claustrophobic. Guess that makes it easier to spot.”
Giselle was nauseous by the time they’d gotten through the forties. Ready to pass out by the time they’d cleared the fifties. Still standing by sheer will by the time the elevator finally came to a stop.
And as the doors slid open, a whole new kind of fear tangled with her existing anxiety. The fear of Troy’s rejection. The fear of the bottom falling completely out of her life.
She kept a hand on some vertical surface as she stepped out of the elevator. The space was vast and open and cold. It felt like heaven to Giselle. Like falling in a cold pond on a hot summer day. Her head cleared. Her lungs filled. Her skin cooled. Her mind opened.
The space was indeed unfinished, and a familiar camera crew setup cluttered the commercial hull on the opposite side of the building, where—holy hell—a huge glass panel, a wall, really, had been removed, leaving nothing but about two feet of steel from the floor to the cavernous opening, where cold air blew through the floor’s shell.
“Oh my God.”
“Hey.” A really great-looking blond approached with a casual smile, hand outstretched. “I’m Wes.”
One of the Renegades. She was pretty sure Troy had told her he was their best stunt driver. He greeted her with a big, warm smile. “Great to see you, Ellie. I saw you briefly in the hospital, but you were sleeping. I was hoping Troy would bring you around, but he’s pretty damned selfish. Hope you weren’t here for him. He just left.”
Her mouth dropped open. Her heart plummeted to her feet. “What… Where…”
A cute little redhead who seemed to bounce when she walked strolled up to the group, peeped out a “Hi” for the security guard and Giselle before offering a piece of paper to Wes. “Here’s Troy’s ticket. His flight leaves in two hours. It’s changeable and refundable, so if he’s not done here, I’ll just, you know, fix-a-roo it.”
Giselle’s mind tangled again. Was Troy here or gone? If he was gone, where did he go? And why?
“Damn it, Treena,” Wes said, a grin on his face. “You ruined my prank.”
Her brows shot up, and she tapped the ticket twice with her pencil. “Then I guess you should plan better next time.”
Then she bopped away.
“What’s going on?” Giselle pressed a hand to her tripping heart.
“I was just messing with you. Gonna have to get used to it around here. Keep your guard up. I’ll do better next time. Troy’s out playing on the side of the building. He’ll come in when he gets hungry or cold…or he finds out you’re here. Until then, you can watch him on the monitors.” He turned and put an arm around her shoulders. He walked Giselle toward a big flat screen, where a figure in black hung on the side of the building, lit up by spotlights. “Or, you can watch him out there.”
Wes pointed toward the side of the building, where a circle of light cut through the night and illuminated Troy outside the building. Just…hanging there. His hair was trying to blow out of its restricted style, and his expression was serious, intense, focused.
A lick of panic made her grab a handful of Wes’s tee. “What’s he doing?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she yanked his shirt, dragging them around to face each other, and demand, “What…is he…doing?”
Wes gripped her shoulders and met her gaze. “His job. This is what he does. This is who he is. If this isn’t the man you want, if this isn’t the man you can accept and love, go back to the airport, Ellie.” His voice was direct, but level and compassionate. “No one should ever have to settle for being loved for less than his or her true self. That’s the woman Troy loves in you. He deserves no less.”
She held Wes’s steady blue gaze. Around them, movement whipped up. The director and Troy spoke over the radio. “You called me…Ellie.”
Wes’s mouth tipped up in a confused smile. “Isn’t that your name?”
The scope of her world shifted from telephoto to wide view. She saw Wes as just one of the people she would be accepting into her life by loving Troy. Her mind flickered through all the others whom he’d told her so much about—Jax and Lexi, Josh and Grace, Rubi, Rachel…it was such a big family that just kept growing. People who would welcome her into their circle based solely on her importance to Troy. The full realization of what Troy had been trying to give her—not just his love, but the love of a family, a community…
She’d come back for Troy, but she could clearly see she’d be getting so m
uch more.
A smile broke out across her face. Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Oh Christ. Don’t cry. If he thinks I made you cry, I’m going to lose some teeth.” He turned, wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, and pulled her close to his side, walking her toward the set. “Come watch your man in action, El. This is gonna be great.”
“All right, we’re ready to go in here.” The radio-roughened voice came over an open line on a speaker somewhere. “Troy?”
“I’m not feeling much like Cruise out here.” His voice came over the radio sounding subdued. “Could use some Mission Impossible music.”
“All right, everyone,” Wes yelled. “On three. One, two, three— Dun, na-na…dun, na-na…dun, na-na…da-dun-na…”
Everyone joined in, and the room filled with the improvised Mission Impossible theme song. Giselle bubbled with laughter that rose up quickly and ended just as fast. She wanted to feel the same excitement, the same thrill filling everyone here, surely filling Troy. But she was still adjusting to the reality of him a thousand feet off the ground held up by nothing but cables. And as the crew rounded up their chorus with a vibrant finish and a round of applause, Troy’s laugh sounded scratchy over the radio, but definitely less than exuberant. “I feel clearer already.”
Troy’s reference to Scientology made everyone in the crew roar with laughter.
The warmth filling the room, the way the crew came together to support each other, to support Troy, filled Giselle in a way she couldn’t quite say she’d ever known. A way she may have experienced for a short time way back, when it was her and Troy and Nathan against the world. The joy that this filled Troy’s daily life, the satisfaction, the sheer and deep gratitude swelling inside her, made it hard to breathe and choked off her words.
“Okay,” Wes said, his smile soft, blue eyes warm. “I’ve got to get over to the window to drag his ass back in after this take. You hold this.” He handed her the airline ticket. “Good thing Treena went for refundable. Doesn’t look like he’ll be needing it after all.”
She caught Wes’s arm, and when he looked back, she smiled, nodded. “Thank you.”
“Always.” He pulled his arm from her grasp until their hands met, and gave hers a squeeze. “Always.”
“Wes, get on deck.” The director’s voice pulled Wes away and drew Giselle’s gaze to the window. To Troy, illuminated in the spotlight. “Let us know when you’re set up, Troy.”
Giselle glanced at the ticket and read the destination: Las Vegas. Her heart hicupped, but she couldn’t get too excited. He’d been working there too. This didn’t mean he’d been going after her. She curled the paper into her palm as, outside, Troy planted his feet against the glass, took one of the several ropes in his gloved hands, and said, “All right. Now or never.”
Her heart tripped.
“Get ready to roll.” The director’s voice echoed over the speaker. “Here we go. And three…two…one…action!”
Giselle held her breath. She wanted to turn away from the window, but she couldn’t. So she watched the chopper’s light follow Troy as he pushed off the glass, flying away from the building in a smooth arc, only to touch down, several huge panes of glass away at a ninety-degree angle, then sprinted across the building.
Her mind couldn’t comprehend how he did that. How they made that happen. Even standing on the set of the stunt, in the middle of the crew, with all the gadgets surrounding her, she couldn’t fathom…
“Cut.” The director’s voice jolted Giselle from her thoughts. “Nice, Troy. Wind’s picking up. Let’s call it a night.”
“Roger that,” Troy said, before he simply fell out of sight.
Giselle felt the floor open beneath her. She launched toward the last place she’d seen him. “Tro—”
Strong arms caught her, and the sudden stop knocked her scream from her lungs before it could reach its target.
“He’s okay.” The man’s voice was new, but just as warm and confident as Wes’s, and he was just as strong, holding her without effort as she struggled to twist from his grip, her gaze holding on the emptiness outside. On Wes, leaning out the opening but not returning with Troy. “He’s fine.”
“How do you know?” Her heart was in free fall. “He’s…he’s… Where is he?”
“It takes some time to reel in.”
Her muscles gave in to exhaustion, and she slumped, but the man restraining her was there to keep her from hitting the floor. She was shaking, but the man slowly released her as she found her feet. And after what seemed like an excruciating amount of time—which in reality was probably more like a few minutes—Troy gradually rose into view. The crew broke into applause. Giselle almost hit the ground again.
The man nearby gripped her arms. “You’re gonna have to grow a thicker skin if you plan on sticking around awhile.”
She nodded, pressing a hand to her forehead, searching for a sliver of composure. “If he doesn’t break my heart, he’s going to give me a heart attack.”
The man chuckled. “You steady?”
“Yes. Thank you.” When he released her and stepped away, she finally looked up at his face. He was about Troy’s size, sandy brown hair, greenish-gray eyes, rugged. She offered her hand. “I’m Giselle—”
“Diamond.” His grin widened. “I know.” He shrugged. “I’m a fan.”
A smile broke over her face. “You’re not my demographic. That makes you an extraspecial fan.”
“And extra, extra special considering your guy totally bagged on my stunt.”
“Uh…” She wasn’t sure what he’d just said. “W-wha…?”
“Troy.” He glanced toward the open door and the dark night beyond, lit up by the chopper’s spotlight. “Just walked in and stole my stunt right out from under me, the prick. But…” He shrugged again. “I’m the new guy and all that.” He offered his hand. “I’m Cameron. New Renegade.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. “I’m not sure if I should apologize for Troy or not.”
“Pffft.”
“Do you know…um…” She scraped her lip between her teeth. “Is he going back to work on the Vegas shoot?”
“No, he’s done there. Keaton, Duke, and Z are tying it up.” He leaned down to pick up a harness of some kind. “Guess I’m the cleanup crew. Catch you later.”
“Thanks again.”
As Cameron wandered away, Giselle’s heart expanded with hope. Her eyes burned with tears. Excitement drew her gaze to the crew as Wes leaned out of the building, caught Troy’s hand, and drew him in.
Wes said something that made Troy’s head pop up, made his gaze sharpen on his friend’s face. Then he was scanning the room, those pretty eyes wide and so filled with hope, the tears stinging her eyes slipped over her lashes. But she didn’t breathe right until his feet touched solid ground. Her heart didn’t beat right until he’d pushed through everyone and reached her. Even then, it rushed and skipped.
As soon as he was within reach, he cupped her face. “You’re still here,” he said, stroking her hair with one hand, scanning her face as if he hadn’t seen her in months. “I was coming. Right after this. Right now. I was coming to you.”
She nodded. “I know.” She lifted the ticket and gave a little shrug. “They said it’s refundable.”
“I’m not refunding it.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. “Whenever I don’t have to be working, I’ll be with you.” He kissed her again. “Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, it doesn’t matter.” He kissed her again, then pressed his forehead to hers. “I was stupid not to think of it before. And I was really stupid not to come after you seven years ago. I wasted that time when I could have been with you. I’m not doing that again.”
Giselle’s eyes closed, and tears spilled out. Tears of love, of joy, of gratitude…so many emotions.
“Baby, I’m so sorry—” he started, but Giselle lifted her fingers to his mouth and tipped her head back to look into his eyes.
“We agreed no more apologies.” She let her hand slide from his lips and caress his jaw. “There won’t be any need for them anymore, because I won’t be walking away from you again. I will never, ever be putting my career before you again.”
Confusion and a little worry crept into his eyes. “Did you talk to Chad?”
“I did.”
“What did he say? What about the offers?” A sick look washed his features, and Giselle swore he paled two shades. “Holy shit. Did I… Did I lose those deals for you?” He grimaced as if he were in actual pain, then gripped her arms hard with a rock-solid determination. “You give me names and phone numbers, Giselle. I swear to God, I’ll have those deals back within twenty-four hours.”
“Troy—”
“I’m not the worthless boy you left. I know people now. Powerful people. People who like me. People who owe me. And since I never call in favors, I promise, there are a hell of a lot of huge ones hanging out there that I will pull on in a heartbeat for you.” He gave her a little shake, and a lick of panic edged his eyes. “I can fix this, Ellie. Please, please let me fix this.”
She took his face in both hands and held his gaze. “You were never worthless to me. Not ever. I deeply appreciate the offer, and maybe someday I’ll use it, but not today. And not in the near future.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need it. The offers were still waiting when I called Chad.”
All his air exited his lungs. Relief washed over his face first, then anticipation and excitement. “So? What was the best final offer?”
“Oh, that,” she said with a sigh and throwaway attitude, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She glanced up at the ceiling for a second. “Let’s see… Bud and AEG offered a headliner North American tour with over a hundred stops to be followed by a world tour in eight countries and another sixty concerts funded by Pepsi and Live Nation.” She huffed a distracted laugh. The offers still felt surreal, but her decision about them didn’t. That felt perfectly right. “I didn’t even know there were that many countries in Europe big enough to care about me to have a concert.”
