I’d thought I hated him before last night, but what I felt burning in my chest at that moment was unlike anything I’d felt before.
“I’m sorry, did I—”
“Don’t talk to me,” I said again, this time firmer.
Avery’s eyes widened, and he shifted a look between Wes and me. “Listen, about what happened . . . I am so sorry about your car, and I promise—”
“I don’t care,” I said, hit with another rush of anger. “You don’t get to talk to me.”
The room fell silent as both men stared at me, confused. Avery stepped closer, and I threw my hands up.
“I want to go home.”
Wes shook his head. “Roz, your brother wanted you to call as soon as you woke up, and—”
“I want to go home.”
“You need to eat something first. Please.”
“I’m leaving,” I said, glaring at Wes. “And you can either take me, or I’ll walk. I honestly don’t care which way this has to go.”
Wes’s shoulders sank. “Roz, it’s fifteen miles. You can’t walk.”
“Watch me.” I turned out of the kitchen. Stomping back to the bedroom where I’d slept, I grabbed my purse, cell phone, and dirty clothes before making my way to the nearest exit. Without thought or concern for even a “thanks” or “goodbye,” I stormed out the back door, slamming it behind me on my way out.
Chapter Three
I’d walked these thick woods hundreds of times during my childhood, enough to know that a few hours in my current direction would at least get me to The Red Barn. But I wouldn’t walk; I would only go far enough into the trees to disappear from sight of the Barrett Farm, and then I would call for Mel to pick me up.
About fifty yards into the forest, I stopped in a clearing to sit on a large rock and fish my phone out my purse.
“No,” I said, holding down the power button. I stared at the dead screen for the better part of ten minutes, knowing that a drained battery exhausted my one option for a quick getaway. My only choice now was to walk through the woods, hoping I would reach Ally’s house before lunchtime.
“Roz?”
My name echoed through the trees, and it wasn’t the voice I’d expected to hear. I wouldn’t have been surprised to know Wes had followed me out, but I hadn’t wagered on Avery. He didn’t know these woods. He didn’t know me. He had no business coming out here.
“There you are.”
“Stay away.” I kept my arm outstretched as he reached the clearing.
“Listen, I know you’re upset, and I understand.”
“You understand?” I scoffed. “How could you possibly understand?”
“Well, believe it or not, I’ve been in your—”
“No,” I said. “You have never been in my shoes. Don’t you get it? You didn’t just cost me my car, Avery. You cost me any chance I had at finding a job and paying back that five thousand dollars to Sara Oliver. Forget turning in applications or taking an interview, because how am I expected to get there? I don’t have a car! No car, no job, no money. So thanks to you, my problems just keep getting worse.”
“Roz, I’m sorry.” Silence settled between us. He offered me only a few quiet moments to absorb his apology, and then he shrugged. “What can I do?”
It was the worst kind of out-of-body experience. It was as if I was floating there in spirit, watching myself fall apart right in front of him.
I was smart enough to know that insurance would cover the damage he’d caused, but I wasn’t rational enough to accept that solution. I just wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream.
And that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
I’d always imagined meeting Avery someday, but never like this. I certainly hadn’t pictured myself yelling. The plan was to throw confetti, or at least throw myself, at him. I’d fantasized about this moment for so long. There was a drill in place! I was supposed to squeal, ring my arms around his neck, and kiss him until his brain exploded.
But my heart pinched, reminding me of a devastating truth: Avery wasn’t the guy I’d once dreamed of meeting. Not anymore.
“There’s nothing you can do,” I mumbled, turning away. “Just leave me alone.”
“Take it from me, Roz. You can’t run from your problems.”
“And why not?” Isn’t that exactly what he’d done?
I looked down, staring at the clean clothes he’d loaned me that morning, suddenly disgusted to have ever put them on. I hated him. I couldn’t believe I’d been foolish enough to walk away with something that belonged to this guy.
“Take your stupid shirt,” I said, lifting the dark sweatshirt above my head and ripping it off, as if some outlandish act of defiance would somehow make me feel better. I didn’t let him see the cold shiver that ran down my spine when the wind chilled my bare skin.
“Oh no. Don’t do that,” he said, looking away, but the shirt smacked him square in the face. “Please, put it back—”
“And your pants,” I said, kicking out of them. I threw those, too.
Standing there, in nothing more than my bra and underwear, I planted my hands on my hips. An overwhelming sense of confidence swept over me, despite the fact that my fingers were twitching against the cold. I had to stand strong and steady—not let him see the way I shivered—because I didn’t want Avery’s warm clothes. I didn’t want anything from him. I just wanted him to leave me alone; he’d never done anything but cause me grief.
“I’m sorry I’ve upset you.” He wouldn’t even glance in my direction. “But please . . . please get dressed so we can talk.”
I sat down on the giant rock, settling myself to dress again in the damp clothing I’d worn last night. I doubted the wet material would feel better than not wearing anything at all, but I couldn’t walk home half naked. My options were slim. I redressed slowly, sure to stretch each movement out longer than necessary. I’d made him uncomfortable, and I found so much pleasure in watching him squirm.
“You’re brazen,” he said when I was finally dressed again, and he looked back to me. “I didn’t think I’d run into that kind of behavior around here.”
“Well, I won’t apologize for your misconception. I am who I am, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Unlike you, I’ll never pretend to be something I’m not.”
His lips thinned, and an unmistakable look of guilt flashed in his eyes. “Right . . . because this isn’t about the car,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “You were a fan.”
I figured he already knew that because Wes would’ve told him last night. Avery probably thought he could somehow use that to his advantage, but he hadn’t counted on dealing with an angry fan—one who’d once admired his giving heart, his passion for inclusion, and his incredible talents. One who’d given up on him.
“On that note,” I snatched up my purse and headed north through the woods. Avery sloshed through the mud to keep up.
“Please, tell me how to fix this.”
“Start by leaving me alone.”
“Roz, I’m serious.”
“And stop saying my name.”
“Talk to me,” he begged, and his voice broke.
I stopped, compelled by sheer decency not to leave him there alone. But why did I even care? I wanted him to suffer, didn’t I? Didn’t he deserve the very kind of confusion and abandonment he’d caused every one of his fans?
He heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”
“What do you want from me?”
Something in my stomach stirred as an unspoken apology filled his brown eyes. It was compassion bubbling up inside of me—the beginning of my resolve wearing down, and I tried to crush it at the onset. He could stare at me with those puppy dog eyes all he wanted; I would not feel sorry for him.
I closed my eyes to push back a fresh set of tears, but the emotions were thick and piling on, heavier by the second. It took all of my willpower to bury the reoccurring thought that everything about this moment was wrong. It wasn’t su
pposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to hate him . . .
“You’ve totaled my car, and you’ve broken my heart.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“No, I don’t,” he said, his voice weak. “Let me make this up to you.”
“No,” I said quickly—definitively.
Avery looked down, but no amount of effort could hide his wounded ego. Had anyone ever told him no? Was he so used to getting his way that he had no idea how to handle the rejection that came with being part of the real world?
A warm sensation trickled into my chest, reminding me that I couldn’t be so cruel. Damn compassion. I’d have Mel’s head for this; this was all her fault. After all these years, she was rubbing off on me, and at the most inopportune moment in my life. Over and over I could hear her asking: don’t you care if he’s happy and well?
“Fine,” I said, forcing the word through my teeth. “If you want to make things right, you can call your insurance company. File a claim. You owe me a car.”
He looked up through his thick lashes. “Would you take cash instead?”
“Cash?” I perked up. Maybe I would. With the right kind of payout, I could easily find a way to settle a debt and afford a replacement car. “How much cash are we talking?”
“Whatever it takes,” he said, injecting optimism into his voice, but it sounded so pathetic.
Avery hadn’t wanted to call the police last night, and I wondered now if he was just as desperate to keep the insurance company from getting involved.
He was hiding, or so it seemed, and the less anyone knew the details of his whereabouts, the better chance he stood at staying off the grid. Was that his angle? Was he scared of being found?
“Answer me something.”
“Anything.”
“Why are you here?”
He scoffed. “Why do you think?”
“Right.”
He didn’t have to say; those four words were answer enough. He was running from all the problems he’d created for himself. And he was hiding because he didn’t know how to face the world.
“I’ve made mistakes, but . . . I’m not a bad guy.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
“Roz,” he said, stepping closer. He lowered his voice, as if whatever he needed to say was meant only for me—not the birds, not the trees. Not even the slight breeze between us. Just me. “I’m in a really bad position, and I need help.”
“Okay?”
“I’ve been driving myself crazy for days trying to figure out how to handle this mess I’ve gotten myself into, and . . .” He clamped his lips together.
“And?”
“Standing here with you,” he said, still quiet, his words hesitant. “I’m replaying this entire conversation, and I think I have a solution—a way for us to help each other.”
“Help each other with what?” At what point did he assume I owed him anything?
“I’ll spare you the ridiculous details, but here’s what it boils down to,” he said. “I have a meeting on the first of December with the network, and my job’s on the line. I need to get through that meeting unscathed; I need to keep my job—which means damage control.”
“For the drugs or the affair?”
“The way I left,” he said, and his shoulders sank. “It looks suspicious, and I can’t afford any more suspicion. I acted on impulse, without any thought or concern for how it would look.”
“Well, if it’s a matter of improving your image, I’d suggest you talk to your publicist, but . . .” She’s half the reason he was in this mess to begin with.
“One more screw up, and I’m done,” he said, ignoring the jab I took at his romantic tryst with Evie Lawson. “That was the final word from my network. There’s no room in my life for another mistake. After my suspension is over, I’ll have to return to LA, and I need to hit the ground running. The press will clamor for answers, but no one will be more interested in my disappearance than my employers. Where did I go? What did I do? Who was I with? And I need a story. Pictures. Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That I wasn’t running from my problems—or worse, out getting myself into more trouble; rather, I took the time and space I needed to refresh and regroup.”
“Yeah, no one’s going to buy that. You took off—unseen and unheard from in over a week. Half the country thinks you’re dead somewhere, overdosed and rotting. I can only imagine your bosses think the very same thing.”
“Which is why I need to break my silence. No more hiding. I need to prove I’m alive, well, and making an effort to do better. I need to take some initiative to fight the negative suspicions. Before I step a foot back in California, I’ll have to have a solid story—one that won’t look like a lie I made up on the spot.”
“What kind of story?”
“That I left LA for Sutton Woods—to explore nature, to find peace. That I drove out here to spend time with the one person who inspires me to be the best possible version of myself.”
“Wes?”
“You,” he said. “My girlfriend.”
“Your what?”
“That’s a believable story, and one that won’t end in my termination from the show. One look at you, and the world will see that my prior mistakes were just a tiny hiccup, not a lifestyle choice. I need to prove that I’m working on myself. I’m trying. Doing better. Nothing says responsibility like committing to a stable relationship.”
“But don’t you have plenty of girlfriends back home?” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to mention the Evie Lawson thing again. No doubt he had a too-friendly relationship with his married publicist, but he couldn’t call upon her for this job; that would only make things worse. “I’m sure one of them—”
“Roz, I’ll never find someone like you in LA.”
I snorted. “Did I miss the part where we suddenly got to know each other? You don’t know me from a stranger on the street.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But Wes says you’re the biggest sweetheart he’s ever met, and I don’t have to know you to sense that you have this . . . friendly, small-town, wholesome charm about you.”
I smirked. “Avery, you can’t bullshit me about me. That’s not who I am at all.”
He grinned. “Okay, yes. You have a temper, you like to play it loose with the curse words, and apparently you have no reservations about taking your clothes off in front of strangers. I wouldn’t necessarily call you pageant material, but—”
“Okay, pull back. Now you’re just insulting me.”
“You’re bold,” he said quickly. “Honest. Gorgeous. And Roz, you’re a breath of fresh air.”
“Yep, all true.”
“Which makes you perfect for this.”
“And how do you know that I’m not already attached? Maybe I have a boyfriend.”
“Do you?” he asked, and I swear I heard the faintest disappointment in his voice.
“No, but—”
“Then please,” he begged.
“Listen, I wish I could help, but—”
“Five thousand dollars, right? That’s what you need?”
My hands trembled. Had I told him that? I couldn’t remember. I’d gotten so carried away in yelling at him that everything else was a blur.
“Yes.”
“I’ll pay you five thousand dollars for the week,” he said. “An extra thousand if you fly out to my meeting with me on the first and play the role of doting girlfriend.” He held his breath, awaiting an answer, but he didn’t give me a second to respond. “I have to get through the holiday, and I need proof that I spent that time in a manner that’s productive to my emotional health and success. We’ll take some pictures, maybe a few videos. We’ll go out—control the story together. If you can do that, if you can cover for me, and vouch for my whereabouts—”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Y
ou need money,” he said. “I need to prove to my network, producers, costars, and fans that I’m doing well. Why not? What reason do we have not to help each other?”
I wanted to laugh in his face.
After all the pain and hurt he’d caused me, and after the way his behavior had rocked his loyal fan base . . . I didn’t want to play any part in his next deceptive scheme. Hadn’t I just told him that? I would never pretend to be something I wasn’t. I wouldn’t stoop to his level. He was so good at fooling the world on his own; he’d done it for so long, and now he was gearing up to do it again.
I didn’t understand the need for all the lies. Why not just tell them the truth? Why not come right out and say, “Hey, I’m a coward. I ran away because things got too hard.” Why the pretense? Or maybe the truth wasn’t as simple as cowardice. Was there some deep dark secret Avery needed to distract people from, something he could cover up with the perfect lie?
“Are you gay?” I asked. “You and Wes—”
“No,” he said, and the flash of disbelief in his eyes made his emphatic answer more believable than anything he’d said out there today.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t it. But what in the world would compel him to think I could help? Sure, he knew the demands of his job better than I ever could, I’d give him that. But it all seemed so trivial to me.
If this was really about image, and there was nothing else he was covering up, would it even be enough? Could he really fight all the rumors he was up against by pulling a stunt like this? Would a committed girlfriend speak that great a volume against his indiscretions?
I didn’t know, but what I did know was that Avery knew how to drive a hard bargain. I needed money, and lots of it, and he’d just offered me a perfect solution on a silver platter. One week from now, I could finally settle the $5,000 debt that threatened to tear my family apart.
Weren’t my brother’s reputation, his life, and his whole future more important than my stupid morals? Couldn’t I play pretend for a little while, especially if it meant protecting the people I loved?
Where You Belong Page 3
