The Fragile Line: Part Three (The Fine Line #4)

by Alicia Kobishop

  “Hell no,” she replied from the couch. “Have you seen the men on this show? I thought once Marc Davis left, I’d have no reason to watch it, but have you seen the new guy? Max? He’s literally a work of art. When God made him, he took his sweet time. Threw in all the bells and whistles. Every sculpted, tattooed, piece of that man is a freaking masterpiece.”

  “It’s Matt,” I smiled.

  “Huh?”

  “His name. It’s not Max. It’s Matt.”

  “Uh, okay. Whatever. Did you know he’s from here?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “So I’m just supporting our locals. And if he’s ever on Dancing with the Stars, I’d support him by watching that show too. But for now, I’ll put up with the car details and lingo just so I can see him all greased up and…”

  “Mom, seriously!” Piper entered the living room, peering at her mother.

  Carrie raised her hands up in surrender, “I’m just stating the truth.”

  Piper rolled her eyes and opened the fridge, pulling out a stick of string cheese. As she opened the wrapper, she walked toward her mom and took a seat next to her on the couch. “Honestly, Mom. Why are you so weird?”

  “Weird?” Carrie replied. “Or awesome.”

  “Definitely weird,” Piper answered. “Most moms don’t drool over reality stars.”

  “Most of your friends’ moms are old ladies. I’m young and vibrant,” she teased. “I thought you loved that about me.”

  Piper bowed her head, defeated, and sighed, “I do.”

  Looking back up at her mom, eyes pleading, she added, “Sometimes I just wish we were normal.”

  Carrie’s shoulders dropped as she looked at me with an expression that matched my thoughts: Where is this coming from? Our evening had been fantastic so far, our dinner conversation never dying as the three of us planned our next girls’ day in. Until now, Piper’s mood had been fine. Happy even.

  Carrie sighed and pointed the remote at the TV to turn it off. Putting on a reassuring smile that did nothing to cover up the ache in her eyes, she embraced Piper and whispered, “There’s no such thing as normal, sweetheart. Please try not to compare what’s in here,” she pulled away and placed her palm on her daughter’s heart, “to everyone else’s outside. Chances are, most of the kids in your class don’t feel normal either. Even if their reasons are different than yours.”

  After a moment, Piper, buried in her mother’s arms, whispered, “I miss Daddy. All my friends have dads except for me.”

  My own heart swelled as watched Carrie hold her tighter. The moment took me back to the loss of my own parents and the countless moments that followed where I felt alone—isolated, like nobody in the world could possibly know what it was like to lose something so great. Brynn was the only other person in the world who knew what I was going through during that time in our lives. And every time I crumbled after they died, she was there to mold me back together. Just like Carrie was doing now, for Piper.

  “I miss him too, baby,” she cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “So, so much. Piper, look at me.” Finally, their gazes met. “You will always have Daddy. But instead of being on the outside, where we can see him, he’s inside us. He’s in our minds when we think of him and in our hearts every minute of every day. He will always be with us, sweetheart. Forever and ever.”

  Piper nodded with a sniffle, a quiet tear running down her cheek. “This is our new normal, isn’t it, Mom?”

  Our new normal. My heart squeezed tightly, emotions crashing into me with so much force, I could barely breathe. I knew this moment was theirs. I knew I should’ve left the room to give them their privacy during this time. But as my thoughts flashed back to my own childhood—to that moment when my sister said those very same words, it’s our new normal, to a fourteen-year-old me—I couldn’t rip myself away.

  “Yes, sweetheart. It is. We all have our own normals, and this is ours now. And your friends’ normals are theirs. That is a wonderful thing! Because, how boring would it be if we were all the same? Our life is ours to live, and because we lost Daddy, we know how to make the most of each moment, every day. We don’t want it to be like anyone else’s. So, what do you say we live it with all our heart and soul, appreciate every moment, and never ever use Daddy as an excuse not to have the best damn life ever. Daddy would want us to be happy, so let’s show him just how happy we can be. Do you think we can try that together?”

  Through her tears, Piper let out a tiny laugh, “Okay, Mama.”

  "Mama" was a term she only used when hurt, sad, or so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Piper rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and said, “You can turn the TV back on, Mom. I’m okay. Besides, I kind of like the new guy on that show too. He’s nice.”

  “Are you sure, sweetie?”

  “Yeah. Watching him makes you happy. Daddy would want you to be happy too.”

  Carrie laughed, “I’m not so sure Daddy would want me to find happiness by watching some guy on TV. How about we play a game of Pick-Up-Sticks instead?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Piper shouted.

  Carried turned to me, “What do you say, Chloe? Are you in?”

  “Yeah,” I said, taking a moment to find my voice. “I’m definitely in.”

  ~~~

  That night, after Piper went to bed, I told Carrie about Matt. Everything from the moment I met him, until the moment I left him. She gasped when I told her he was the same Matt as the one on her favorite TV show. And she held me as I cried. Talking about him, describing how I feel about him and saying the words out loud, gave my heart a reason to feel again, and my tears permission to fall. It brought clarity to the situation and made me think, for the first time, that my leaving him may have been the biggest mistake of my life.

  Chapter Six

  ~Matt~

  I walked into the shop, hand-in-hand with Ava, Dalton’s daughter, one camera man in front of us, the other behind. Having my every moment captured on film took some getting used to, but after a few weeks, I barely noticed–aw, who was I kidding, these guys were annoying as hell. It helped that none of them spoke. Ever. Not when I asked their names. Not when I asked how they were doing. Not even when I’d ask them the time.

  No matter what, they remained silent. Disconnected flies on the wall, only observing, never participating in the lives of the American Muscle cast.

  Ava glanced at me, nervously. Like her brother, she not only had the Davis family’s striking good looks—dark hair, blue eyes, and perfect skin—but like the men in her family, she knew cars too. Had a natural talent for knowing how to fix them. And like me, this was her first season on the show, and her first time working alongside the other American Muscle mechanics. She had spent the last few years as an overseas servicewoman in our U.S. Air Force and hadn’t been around for the rise of the American Muscle empire.

  For a girl, she was tough as nails.

  Between our similar military backgrounds and our love for cars, we bonded in no time. Together, we learned the ropes of the show and the shop, and in doing so, had formed a close friendship in the last two months since filming started.

  “You ready for this?” I whispered to her as the guys in the shop, including her father, stared at our interlocked fingers.

  “Not really,” she said. “But—” She turned to me with regret in her eyes. “—my dad’s been through enough in the last few months. Finding out would kill him.”

  “He’s going to find out at some point,” I gently reminded her. “You know it’s just a matter of time, right?”

  “Of course. Just not yet. It’s not the right time yet. Thank you so much for agreeing to this, Matt. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “You’d do the same for me.”

  “I will. Whatever you need, Matt. I’m here, okay?” “No fucking way,” Bobby shouted in disbelief through his thick black beard as the middle-aged man came out from under a silv
er ’64 Aston Martin that had been lifted above his head. His weathered eyes alternated from our clasped hands, to Ava, to me, and back. “You two? You fucking two are shacking it up? How did I not know this?”

  Anyone in the shop who hadn’t noticed us yet…noticed us now. Heads turned. Hoots happened. Hollers echoed. The audience of mechanics clapped and applauded. Everyone seemed to be happy until Ava kissed me on the cheek. That’s when we heard Dalton’s voice.

  “Langston! Ava!” Dalton shouted. “Bathroom! Now!”

  The bathroom was the only place cameras weren’t allowed, and mics could be turned off. Being called into the bathroom by Dalton was rare. But when it happened, it meant shit was about to get real. I had heard about it happening when Marc was around, usually a result of him showing up to work high or hung over, but nobody had been called into the bathroom since I’d started.

  With the guys yelling a variety of aww, you’re in trouble now and it was nice knowing you, buddy, Ava and I followed her dad into the one-stall bathroom, which was actually pretty clean and fancy for a shop bathroom. In fact, the entire warehouse-style shop building was state of the art with the newest, shiniest tools and equipment.

  The moment the door closed, Ava said, “What the hell, Dad? That was so unprofessional! I don’t see you calling Bobby into the bathroom the moment you see him holding hands with his wife, and I’m not about to put up with—”

  “Shh!” Dalton raised his hand up, shushing Ava. “Turn your mic off first.”

  With a huff, she did as she was told, Dalton and I doing the same.

  “Wife?!” Dalton continued. “Please tell me you two did not get married in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “No, sir,” I said while at the same time Ava replied, “Of course not.”

  He seemed to relax from our response, but only slightly. “But you’re…together. Am I right? Or was this,” he pointed back and forth between Ava and me, “hand-holding, expression-of-love our producers’ idea?”

  Ava and I looked at each other. Her eyes pleaded for help, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie to Dalton after he had been so good to me, taking me under his wing and treating me like family after I had moved out here to Vegas. Apparently, she found it difficult to lie to her father too.

  “I wanted to tell you first, but Jackie thought it would be better for ratings if we walked into the shop holding hands,” Ava explained, telling Dalton of the conversation we had with one of the producers just before walking into the shop. “I didn’t want to, but you know how persuasive she can be. By the time we were done talking, I practically thought it was my own idea. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

  Dalton paused, taking it in. Turning to me, the idea of Ava and me together—romantically—stirring in his mind, he said, “So you’re the one in the tabloids? The one she’s been sneaking around with?”

  Since the moment Ava’s involvement in the show was announced, the paparazzi had taken a liking to her. At first, it was because of her being the only female mechanic on the show. (A female mechanic with a sexy 40’s pin-up style that had all the male fans of the show turning into lovesick teenagers, by the way.) But a few short weeks later, rumors from an unidentified “source” had started surfacing about a mystery man that Ava had been seeing.

  Everyone, the media and fans alike, wanted to know who this mystery man was and why she was keeping it such a secret. Ava had denied any involvement with anyone at all until photos of her leaving a hotel room late one night had surfaced a few weeks ago, which only added fuel the speculation. In a moment of overwhelmed emotion, she took to Twitter, fueling the rumor fire with a thousand tons of kerosene by releasing a simple statement: My love life is nobody’s business but mine.

  When she realized her tweet had confirmed the existence of an actual love life, which she had previously denied, she quickly deleted it. But it was too late. The image of her tweet had already been re-posted everywhere.

  Having experience with how dishonest the media can be, Dalton had blown it off, giving Ava his full support while the paparazzi hounded her for answers. But two days ago, she had been photographed on a balcony of her home, in the arms of a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt and baseball cap. Ava’s face was clear in the pictures, but the mystery man’s face had been turned at just enough of an angle not to get captured.

  Upon seeing the photos, Dalton wanted answers that Ava refused to give. Tension had grown between the father and daughter, and in turn had filtered into the usually-relaxed atmosphere of the shop.

  The media had a field day. The photos popped up in social media feeds, morning talk show segments, and had been thoroughly discussed on the radio airwaves. Headlines emerged: American Muscle Sweetheart has Secret Affair; Mystery Man Strings Along America’s Sweetheart; Ava Davis’ Mystery Man is a Martian. Yep, we had a laugh over that last one.

  I knew who the mystery man was. And I understood why Ava didn’t want anyone, especially her father, to know about her relationship with him. But appreciating her reason for discrepancy didn’t make it any easier for me to lie to Dalton, so I replied to his question with the only honest answer that came to mind: “I care about your daughter, sir.”

  I did care about his daughter. But not in the way I was leading Dalton to believe. More like a sister…hell, a brother if I’m being completely honest. So when she came to me and told me about her situation, I held her while she cried. Unfortunately, she confided in me in a grocery store, a public place where someone had taken a picture of out so-called “intimate” moment. The photo was leaked to at least one major entertainment “news” station. The media had assumed that Ava’s mystery man—was me. We just haven’t denied it yet.

  Slowly Dalton’s expression morphed from pissed, to shocked, to—happy?

  “Ava, baby, why didn’t you just tell me?” He laughed, picking her up into a hug so tight that it lifted her off the floor. “You know how I feel about Matt. Why would you think your mom and I would be anything other than happy?”

  “I don’t know, Dad,” she said as her father put her down. “I guess I just wanted to keep it private.”

  Dalton turned to me, extending his hand, “Matt, you know you’re already part of the family. Glad to have it be a bit more official,” he pulled me in closer. “Now, I’m pretty sure we don’t need to have the old father to potential daughter's boyfriend talk, do we? I know you’ll treat my girl right, won’t you, son?”

  It wasn’t the first time Dalton had called me "son." But this time, with pride and acceptance behind his eyes, I could tell there was a bit more meaning behind the term. As he looked at me now, I could practically feel him envisioning my future with his daughter. Me—as his son-in-law.

  When I agreed to help Ava, I did it without a thought. But now, as Dalton beamed with elation, I wished I had considered the consequences. Because the happier he became, the shittier I felt about the lie Ava and I started and the more difficult it would be to tell him the truth later. Ava was right when she said he’d be devastated when he found out who she was really in love with. But now that Dalton thinks it’s me, the truth will hurt him even more.

  Dalton left the bathroom first, leaving us behind. Now would be the only opportunity I’d have to speak with Ava privately before turning our mics back on.

  “Ava, you know I’ve got your back.” I held her by the arm and whispered, “But this has to end quick. We need to do what’s right here.”

  “I know,” she looked me in the eye, just as crushed as I was. “You’re right. Give me a week. Two at the most. I promise I’ll make this right.”

  I gave her a nod and watched her walk out of the bathroom and into the shop. Before I could go out there to face the cast and crew, to lie to them too, there was something I had to do.

  I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Chloe had avoided my phone calls since I left. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. Yet, even though the hope I had of being with her again had waned considerably, it was nowhere near gone.
My feelings for her hadn’t changed. I thought about her every damn day, and I had faith that our time would come. I wasn’t about to let the media fuck that up.

  As usual, my call went to Chloe’s voicemail. As usual, I didn’t leave a message. But it had been months, and she needed to hear this. So I ended the call and sent her a text instead:

  Whatever you see on the show…whatever you hear…please know, it’s not what you think. I’ll never give up on you, Chloe. Never.

  Chapter Seven

  ~Chloe~

  For months, I had been trying to get him out of my mind. Out of my heart. I had stopped all contact with Gavin or any of Matt’s friends in an attempt to separate myself from his world. But no matter how detached I pretended to be, my mind never stopped thinking about him or flashing back to the time we’d spent together. The memory of Matt had become my reason for moving forward. Even though it had been months since we’d spoken—months since we’d been together—he had become not only the man I longed to be with, but he’d also become my role model for how to live the life I wanted.

  I was getting there. I had changed. But no matter how much I moved forward, my past could never be erased. Years of my life had been wasted, the shame of the person I had allowed myself to become, a constant reminder that I wasn’t who he needed me to be. Yet. And with his chance to live his dream, it would’ve been selfish for me to make him give it up just to wait for me to grow into the kind of person he deserved. Because of that, I never regretted my decision to let him go.

  But when he sent me the text message that said I’ll never give up on you, he made it damn hard to focus on anything else.

  And what did he mean, it’s not what you think?