“I have the same uncertainties, Hollywood. We’ve had long-term relationships that failed and are scared of getting our hearts shattered again. I won’t deny I’m afraid, but that also doesn’t mean I’m against falling in love again.” I make sure we have good eye contact before going on. “In fact, I know I’m not.” I press my hand to my heart. “I can already feel you inside me, repairing the parts Cameron broke, and I’m afraid you’ll do even more damage.”
I’m shocked at my honesty. I don’t open up. I’m not an emotional dude.
She swipes a tear from her cheek. “I’m so afraid of getting hurt. I told myself I was anti-relationship because the heartache, the loss, it’s just too much for me.”
“Looks like we’re just two complicated souls looking for love.”
She keeps crying.
“Come here, Hollywood.” I grab her arm to drag her onto my lap and start brushing away the tears until there’s none left. “I don’t want to make you cry. I told you, I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt you, but I want the same from you. Take this step with me. Go all in. Stop pretending to be with another man.”
She shivers, her body shaking, when I run my hands down her arms.
“I want you to be mine. It killed me yesterday when I couldn’t hold your hand—couldn’t touch you in fear of what your consequences would be. Goddamn, you have no idea how hard that’s killing me. I’m over here falling for a woman I can’t claim.”
She’s breathing heavily while staring down at me with dilated pupils and starts tremblinh in my arms.
“I want that too,” she whispers.
“Promise me you’ll do something about it … that you’ll do whatever it takes to be mine. Tell me you’re ready to be all in.”
She nods repeatedly. “I promise. All in.”
I can feel her heart beating as she presses her chest into me and rests her lips on mine.
“Now claim me, Hudson Barnes.”
Thirty-One
Stella
I asked him to claim me.
That’s what he does.
His hand curls around the back of my head, and I waste no time devouring his mouth. This is the most intimate kiss we’ve shared. Something about confessing our feelings and telling each other we don’t want to walk away seems to have made everything so much hotter.
Every touch more exciting.
I tilt my head to the side, exposing my bare neck and silently pleading for more of anything he’s willing to give.
Touch me. Kiss me. Love me.
I shiver when his lips hit my neck, sucking hard on my sensitive skin, and I know I’m going to be covering up the evidence of his mouth there with makeup tomorrow.
He’s so addictive.
“Say you’re mine,” he gasps. “All fucking mine.”
“I’m yours,” I moan. “Only yours.”
The space is small, but I manage to get his pants down far enough to pull his cock free. I scoot back to get a good grip and slowly start to stroke him. He pushes my dress up past my breasts, massaging them and pinching a nipple that nearly sends me over the edge, and swipes my panties to the side before slowly lowering me onto him. The rough texture of the steering wheel bites into my back when I grind down on his lap and take in his length.
I lose control as soon as I start riding him, giving him my all, and he grabs my hips, slamming me into him with more power.
The sound of our heavy breathing and skin slapping takes over the silent cab. The aroma of our sex fills up the small space.
I’ve made up my mind by the time my orgasm shakes through me.
I’m willing to take the risk.
I’m ready to make Hudson Barnes mine.
I just have to figure out how.
I stretch my arms out against the crisp sheets and feel the emptiness in the spot next to me.
I decided to stay behind for Lucy’s funeral today. It’s too intimate for an outsider and would make people curious. I’ve been followed for the past decade and had friends sell stories on me to make a quick buck, so I’m not the most trusting person. Trust isn’t just given. It has to be earned.
I stretch my arm out to grab my phone from the nightstand, and there’s a Post-it note stuck to the screen.
Coffee maker is on.
All the necessary ingredients to make it your own are in the kitchen.
Call or text if you need anything.
Later, you’re mine.
Hudson
He must have gone to the grocery early this morning while I was sleeping and got coconut milk because I don’t recall seeing any yesterday. He has to be exhausted. We went for round two when we got back last night, and I couldn’t feel my legs by the time he rolled off me, took me in his arms, and we fell asleep. He didn’t have one nightmare.
I get out of my bed to brush my teeth and head upstairs to the kitchen in search of the coffee maker.
It’s on.
Thank God.
It’s embarrassing, but I have no idea how to make coffee. I give myself a mental note to watch a YouTube video on it. You can learn how to do anything on the internet—cook, clean, steal cars, make coffee. Ah, modern technology.
I’m about to start my coffee-making research when a close-up of Willow’s face pops up on my phone screen. My stomach tenses for some reason. I’m scared it’s bad news, and bad news before your first cup of coffee is the worst way to start the day. I’m not ready to adult or have conversations until at least my second.
Please be a checkup call or an update on a new audition.
Not something that’s going to turn my life upside down, or Tillie’s reaction to my mini-vacation with another man.
I put the call on speaker. “Hello?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yells on the other line. “Are you trying to commit career suicide, you lunatic?”
“Huh?” is the only response I can muster out while I run through the possible scenarios of what she could be mad about.
“Everyone and their mama are calling you a cheater right now. It’s everywhere. Someone sold a video of you dry humping or possibly fucking Hudson, you can’t really tell from the angle, in the front seat of a pickup truck. The internet is blowing up!”
Fuck me. Fuck me. This is the end of my career.
My throat tightens, my stomach revolts, and fear snakes through me. I never thought news would travel like that here, or that someone would follow us in order to sell a story. Hell, I thought we were in the boondocks of fucking nowhere.
“Tell me you’re joking,” I stutter out, my throat tightening as tears build at my eyes. “Tell me this is some prank you’re playing on me.”
“Tough shit, Stella. It’s not a joke. It’s code red. Code fucking red.”
“Who … who could’ve done this?”
“I’m assuming paparazzi got word that you took a flight there and decided to meander to good ol’ Iowa to see if they could stalk you and find a story.”
The tears start to fall. I was too careless, acting too free, and not thinking about the damage that kissing Hudson would do to my career.
“What do I do, Willow?”
I cringe when I see a call beeping in from Tillie. I hit ignore. The witch is going to have to wait to rip my head off.
“You need to come clean. Tell the truth about Eli.”
“Do you know the damage that’ll do to my reputation?”
“Uh, probably nothing near as bad as looking like an unfaithful tramp.”
“I have to talk to Eli … to Hudson … before I do anything.”
“Do that and get back with me ASAP. I need to put out a statement before this snowballs. In the meantime, quit being damn dumb.”
“You’re the one who told me to start banging Hudson!”
“Really? I also told you to bang Justin Timberlake when he was single, but did you try to jump on that shit? I’m all for you being happy, girlfriend, and this little selling your soul deal isn’t making you happy.
The problem now is saving your ass. They can sue you. It’s breach of contract.” she pauses. “There’s more.”
As if this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.
“What now?” I burst out.
“Spencer Marcum is also making headlines.”
“I should care why?”
“Not only are the headlines blazing with pictures of you and Hudson, but they’re also talking about you and Spencer. He did an interview with Howard Stern and said you cheated on Knox with him.”
My head starts spinning, and my heart drops to my stomach. I’m going to lose the two most important things in my life in one day. My career and Hudson. I run to the bathroom and start to dry heave, but nothing comes out.
“I’m going to lose him,” I whisper when I gain control of myself, tears blinding me.
“What?” she asks.
“Hudson. I’m going to lose him. He’ll hate me when he finds out I cheated on Knox.”
“Why? It was before him.”
“He hates cheaters, despises them, and thinks once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“Explain the situation. He’ll understand.” Her voice is tight. She’s pissed at me but still has my back.
“He won’t,” I sob. “He won’t understand.”
Thirty-Two
Hudson
Funerals.
I hate them.
And I fucking hate the fact that I’ve gone to my fair share of them. They never get easier. What makes them even worse is when they’re for someone who was taken too soon.
When someone dies at ninety-five, people go on about their victory of making it so far.
She almost made it a century. She was badass. What was her secret?
When someone dies at thirty, it’s a tragedy.
The only question is why.
Why were they taken away so soon? Why couldn’t we have them longer?
The world is not fucking fair. Death isn’t fucking fair. The grim reaper always seems to come for the good ones—the ones with hearts of gold who are supposed to stay with us until their skin wrinkles, until they get dentures, until they get the chance to spoil their grandchildren.
Sadness gnaws at me stronger with every passing tear. I peek over at Dallas sitting a few seats down from me with Maven settled on his lap. His arms are enveloped around her like a shield, and they stare at the purple casket topped with flowers and lined with gold trim, both of their eyes swollen. He’s still fighting to hold it together for Maven and to be a strong father. I think back to what Lauren said. She was right. It’s all an act.
This is a reminder that I need to grab life by the balls and take advantage of every day I’m given. Every single fucking second of my life needs to matter because I don’t know how many more I’ll get. I can’t keep burying parts of me away from Stella in fear of the future, because hell, who knows how long mine will be.
Dallas takes Maven up with him when he gives the eulogy. He squeezes her hand, and the words slip from his mouth slowly. He’s composing himself the best he can while reminding us what a good woman Lucy was. Even though none of us need reminded.
My mother is crying next to me. She’s lost a daughter. Her son lost a wife. Her granddaughter is now motherless. Every person in this room is losing a sliver of their heart today.
I wish Stella was here, but I understand her reasoning. I tip my head down as tears fall from my cheeks while silently asking God not to take anyone else from me.
I throw my arm around Dallas’s shoulder as people clear out of the funeral home. “I’m here for you, brother. You and Maven, whatever you need, you let me know.”
He wipes his dark eyes. “Lucy’s death has forced me to give up on having any certainty in this life except for one—that I can rely on my family every minute of every day, no matter what. All of you are the only reason I’m standing today and not breaking down in front of my daughter. I’ll never be able to thank you guys enough. And what you did, taking that job so I could spend Lucy’s last few weeks by her side, I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “Family doesn’t ever need to repay family for helping them. We’ll always be here, come hell or high water … or Hollywood.”
I get a small chuckle from him.
“I’ll be at your side every step of the way. You can count on that.”
I don’t know where we’ll go from here, but I can’t hang out with Stella in clubs when my family is broken thousands of miles away.
I have a decision to make.
And it won’t be an easy one.
I’m the sugar-runner.
Not only does my mother love to bake, she loves to emotional bake. If she’s having a bad day, she’s in the kitchen making something. It’s her happy place.
The reception is being held at my parents’, and I know it will smell like the Pillsbury Dough Boy’s ass crack when I get there. The kitchen was already loaded with pies, cakes, and cookies this morning. No doubt there will be more.
My mom left the funeral home as soon as the service ended without making small talk or thanking people for coming like we did. She wanted everything in order so Dallas wouldn’t stress about it. She stopped to pick up Stella before going home, and I’m meeting them at her house.
I smile thinking back to the conversation I had with Stella last night. She’s going to end that bullshit agreement with Eli. We’ll figure out a way to make our relationship work.
I toss every item on my mom’s list into the shopping cart and head to the only open checkout lane. People stop me on my way to tell me they’re sorry for my loss. Everyone loved Lucy. She didn’t have a bad bone in her body. She was a pharmacy tech at our local drug store and always went out of her way to help people. She even dropped prescriptions off at people’s houses if they were too sick to pick them up. Everyone is going to miss her.
Mrs. Pipes shoots me a friendly wave while the cashier finishes helping her, and I begin loading my groceries on the belt. When I finished, I grab my phone to check for missed calls and something catches my eye before I turn the screen on.
The air grows thin.
My vision grows blurry, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
Stella has graced tabloid covers for as long as I can remember. I never paid attention before—only briefly noticing her name because my brother worked for her.
Until now.
My muscles painfully tick underneath my skin as I read the headline again, just in case my mind is fucking with me. I blink, giving myself one more opportunity to act like I didn’t read it correctly. I lose again and clench my jaw while taking in the words written above a photo of Stella kissing me while straddling my lap in my pickup.
Stella Mendes busted cheating on Eli with bodyguard! It’s not the first time it’s happened! See her many scandals with other men, including actor Spencer Marcum!
What fucking creep spied on us to take this picture?
This headline has to be bullshit, right?
They need catchy yet false headlines to make sales.
My fingers twitch with desperation to pick up the magazine and buy it, but word will be all over town if someone catches me. I snatch it from the holder and flip through the pages until I find the story about Stella … and me. I take pictures of each page with my phone and put the magazine back as soon as Mrs. Pipes wheels away her cart.
“I take it your mother is on a baking spree?” Jojo asks when she starts ringing me up.
I graduated with her, and her dad owns the grocery store. She’s also one of Cameron’s friends.
I force a smile. “How could you tell?”
“Poor Dallas. If you guys need anything else, call me and I’ll drop it off after my shift, okay? It’s no hassle.”
“I’ll let her know. Thanks.”
I pay, grab the bags, and am about to walk out when Jojo stops me.
“Hudson, I want you to know I had no idea what was going on with Cameron and Grady.”
/> I shrug. “It happened. I’m over it.”
I could give two shits about Cameron right now. All that’s on my mind is Stella.
I throw the groceries in the passenger seat and pull my phone from my pocket as soon as I slam the door shut. I can’t believe I’m reading tabloid stories about my girlfriend … or the girl I’m screwing … because I’m not sure what she is to me. I really can’t believe they have pictures of me in there.
Damn, how my life has changed.
I don’t like it one fucking bit.
Don’t like my business out there like this.
I sit in my truck for a good fifteen minutes reading the article about us having some sordid affair behind Eli’s back. That’s not the worst part. There’s also claims that our affair isn’t the first one she’s had.
Spencer Marcum, another actor, let it slip that he slept with her when she was with Knox. He has the texts to prove it, and they’re posted on the next page.
She asked him not to say anything to Knox or anyone else and said it could never happen again. She texted him again a week later with a heads up that she told Knox out of guilt, and Knox said he better not see him around.
Who was this woman? It’s not my Stella.
I shake my head, gritting my teeth. I’ve fallen for another liar. Another fraud. Another cheater.
I close out of the pictures and open my browser to search for other stories about her and Spencer online. There are pages of them dating back to over a year ago. It’s been awhile since their supposed hookup happened, but I hate the fact that she never told me about this after knowing how I despise cheaters.
She’s just like Cameron.
I can’t have my heart broken again by someone who doesn’t cherish commitment.
Me: What do you know about Stella and Spencer Marcum?
I’m an asshole for even bringing this up to him today.
Dallas: Not my story to tell, man.
Just a Fling Page 16
