Broken Hollywood (Sparrow Sisters Book 1)

by Lora Richardson

  “And watching all his movies will help you get over it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You should talk to him.”

  “I don’t know how I’d face him.”

  “The same way you faced him last time you saw him. He’s no different.”

  But he was. Before, he was this super hot guy who I couldn’t believe had his eye on me. He was sweeping me off my feet. He was turning my legs to jelly and making me feel things I never even knew existed. And now? Now he was completely out of reach.

  “Here’s the truth, Audrey. I was starting to think of Jesse as a possibility. And now he’s not.”

  “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “I could never, ever date a movie star.”

  “Cat. That’s silly. It’s just his job.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Three weeks ago, you were all starry-eyed, daydreaming about getting your picture taken with him. Now he’s just a regular guy?”

  She shrugged sheepishly. “When you talked to us about him, he was just Otto’s grandson. So now that’s how I see him. And you became his friend, and talked about him like you would talk about any friend. And then something else grew between you, and I could see it, and I was hopeful for you. So yes, he’s just a regular guy with a really cool job.”

  I met her eyes and let myself be vulnerable. “The kind of job where he gets to kiss many beautiful women.”

  She looked at me tenderly and brushed a hand down my hair. “I suppose I wouldn’t like that much, either.”

  “And, God. If I even let myself imagine that he wanted to date me seriously, which is clearly ridiculous, I cannot, I simply cannot picture myself on the cover of a tabloid magazine. I do not want strangers to analyze my face, or talk about me around the dinner table. And that’s what his life is. That’s where I’d end up.”

  “Why look that far into the future? Why not stay right here, in Alden, and see what happens here?” She held up her hands to stop me from protesting. “Listen, I’m about to say something that will sound like it came straight out of Valerie’s mouth, but please listen. What if you just take this thing with Jesse for what it is—an exciting summer fling. You could really have a lot of fun. And it would give you a great story to tell your grandkids.”

  I fiddled with the rings on my fingers, spinning them around and around. “Maybe it could have been like that, if I’d known from the start who he was. But since I didn’t, I got to know him. I like him. I haven’t waded into the water very far at all, I get that. But I think I’m already in too deep for it to be casual.”

  She nodded and looked at me with sad eyes. She truly wanted to find a way for this to work out. But I already knew it couldn’t. “It will break your heart when he leaves,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” I whispered back.

  She reached out and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I understand.”

  The doorbell rang and Audrey hopped up. “That’s probably Mrs. Anderson. This morning at church she said she was going to bring by some cookies for you.”

  She skittered off to the foyer, and I looked back at the screen, at Jesse’s face. He had such beautiful eyes. Soulful eyes. My heart was heavy in my chest. It was ridiculous, but I was sad. I wished he wasn’t Jesse Relic. I wished he could have just stayed Jesse Morgan, a possibility.

  Audrey peeked around the corner. “Um, Cat?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay to receive a visitor?”

  I patted my hair, wondering what I looked like, but before I could answer, Jesse appeared beside her.

  “Hi.”

  My heart stopped. I forgot to breathe. My eyes traveled up and down his body. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans. His hair was adorably mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. That, plus the wary look on his face told me he was nervous, too. We felt like two entirely new people, like we were meeting for the first time.

  “Hi.”

  He took a step forward and held out a bouquet of flowers, a strange mix of roses, daisies, lilies, and peonies. “I didn’t know what kind you like, so I got several.”

  I swallowed, reminding myself to breathe, to be normal. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I’ll put them in a vase for you,” Audrey said. She took the flowers and rushed to hide in the kitchen. No doubt she’d be listening in.

  Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot. “You can come in,” I said, and my heart resumed beating, faster and faster and faster. Jesse was here. Jesse was famous. He’d kissed Alessia Grant. He’d almost-kissed me. He was ridiculously handsome. And he was sensitive, kind, a little bit heroic, and here.

  He walked farther into the room, stopping when he saw his own face on the screen, looming over the fireplace. Dang it. I should have clicked that off. Or maybe it was for the best. We both knew he was in movies now. It was out in the open where we could deal with it.

  He bit his lower lip and swung his eyes to mine. He looked stricken. Pale. I shrugged, smiling a little, hoping to calm him. “I was curious.”

  He stood frozen in place, his eyes on me but not seeing me.

  “You’re a good actor.”

  His gaze darted away. When he brought it back, he’d replaced his distress with a smooth, cool expression. He changed the subject. “How’s your knee?” He took a seat in the armchair across from me, his back to the screen, and rubbed his hands together nervously. “That’s a big cast.”

  I looked at my cast, which went from mid thigh to the bottom of my calf muscle. I’d be wearing dresses for a while. “My knee will be fine. It’s not too painful, and I suppose I should be grateful the whole thing taught me a lesson.” Don’t jump head first into holes in caves, and don’t jump head first into the arms of a man. “I’m not too happy about the cast, but it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll have it for five more weeks.”

  He nodded. “I was glad when Otto told me you didn’t need surgery.”

  “Yeah, that was a relief.”

  It went quiet. I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind me. There was so much in the space between us—questions, regrets, fears, delicate hopes, and that ever present sizzle of heat. Even now, that hadn’t gone.

  When we’d been in that small cave room, a secret intimacy had grown between us. I couldn’t just set that aside, as much as I knew I should. “Jesse, I want to thank you again for pulling me out of the tunnel. You can’t know how much that means to me. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see me like that, and I know you hurt yourself in the process.” I gestured to his torso.

  He brushed a hand down his shirt. “Don’t worry about that. I’m good as new.”

  Another silence.

  “You know what I keep thinking?” he asked.

  “What?”

  He met my eyes, and he didn’t look nervous anymore. He looked determined. “We are the only two people who’ve ever been in that little room. In the history of the earth, we’re the only two who know what’s in there.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that claimed my mouth. He understood something about me. He got it. A lot was contained in that room. The secrets we’d shared, our fear, our laughter. Our almost-kiss.

  Audrey came back with the flowers and set them on the coffee table beside my foot. “They’re lovely,” she told him.

  He stood up. “I better go.”

  Audrey shot me a panicked look, then turned back to Jesse. “Oh, no, you can stay. You should stay for dinner. Mama said we were going to have you for dinner to thank you for rescuing Cat.”

  “I didn’t rescue her,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You did, Jesse,” I said, lifting my chin, wanting to tease him and reclaim something between us that used to be easy. “You did, and unless you own it, I’ll keep saying the words. You’ll get so sick of me saying, ‘Thank you for rescuing me, Jesse,’ and, ‘Jesse, you’re my hero,’ so you better just accept it.”

  He shook his head, but he smil
ed a little. “When will I see you at work again?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s not much I can do with this cast on.”

  “You can sit in the gift shop and keep me company.”

  His words made even my injured leg turn to jelly.

  Chapter 18

  Jesse

  Three weeks had passed since Cat’s accident in the cave. I hadn’t gone to her house again after the day I brought flowers. Grandpa went to her house for dinner earlier in the week, but I declined the invitation. He’d worked hard to get me to come, but when he realized he couldn’t wrestle me into submission, he went without me. He told me I’d regret it, and he was right.

  I thought I was going to come out of my skin. I had to see her. I needed to catch the coconut scent of her hair, I needed to feel her small hand in mine again, I needed to finish that kiss. But mostly, I needed to do this right.

  A chasm of doubt opened up in my gut, and I worried that what was between us was over before it even started. I needed to see her so I could shut down that line of thinking. I knew as soon as I laid my eyes on hers, everything would be okay. She clearly needed space. She needed to process what she’d learned about me. And then she needed to hear me sincerely apologize. I would wait.

  I opened the cash drawer and pulled out the stack of ones, making sure the starting cash was correct. Something bumped loudly against the front door. I looked up, but no one was there. Figuring it was the wind, I went back to counting. Another, louder thump came this time. This time, I walked to the door and pushed it open.

  Cat sat in an electric wheelchair. Her dark hair shone in the sun. She wore a red sundress that made her skin glow. Her casted leg was propped up and her other knee was bent. And she was scowling. She was luminous.

  “Welcome back,” I said, possibly grinning like a lunatic.

  Her eyes skimmed my face, taking in my joy, but her expression didn’t change. “We’re installing automatic doors.” I jumped out of the way as she buzzed forward and into the gift shop.

  “Good plan,” I said, but I couldn’t tell if she was listening.

  She drove herself to the counter and reached for the drawer where she usually stashed her bag. She couldn’t reach the handle, so she backed up and came at it again, bumping into the counter as she did so. She growled in frustration, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. All I could think of was the first time I ever saw her, and how angry she was at the lug nuts on her tire.

  I leaned down to take her bag from her, but she snatched it back. “I can do it,” she snapped, and after a few more tries, she did.

  Sensing I needed to tread lightly, I walked to the cash register to resume counting the money. She drove herself to the fossil display case.

  “How’s your knee feeling?”

  “It’s fine.”

  She offered nothing more. I blinked and turned away, my heart sinking. I should have told her from the start. She was angry at me, and with good reason. I’d do anything to go back to the beginning and start over, to do it right. I swallowed. On the other hand, if I’d told her who I was in the beginning, there was a good chance none of the things we’d shared would have happened.

  I turned back to her. I wasn’t giving up. I needed to show her I was the same person now that I was before she knew I was an actor. “Come on,” I said. “Follow me.”

  “I should get to work. I think I’ll dust the displays.” She headed toward the closet where we kept the cleaning supplies.

  I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed her toward the cavern.

  “Jesse, stop it. I’m finally back at work, so I need to work.”

  I pushed her through the doorway and into the cavern, the motor of the wheelchair whining in protest because she kept her finger on the button. “You told me you always start your work day with a good howl. I haven’t heard you howl today.”

  When we reached the center of the cavern I stopped pushing and she let off the button, and finally stopped fighting me. “I don’t feel like it today.”

  “Doesn’t matter if you feel like it. It has to happen.” I tipped my head up and opened my mouth, letting a wretched howl climb to the top of the cavern. Echoes fell back down, loud, and then quieter until they were gone. “Your turn.”

  “Jesse.”

  I howled again, a loud, operatic warbling. I wasn’t embarrassed. I’d done worse on screen for millions of people to see. Again, the echoes fell.

  Nothing from Cat.

  Inspired by the child on my first boat tour of the cavern, I mooed. I tipped my head up and let out a low, pathetic bleating that sounded quite like that of the cows in the pasture I’d been running past each morning.

  When it was silent again, Cat released the smallest of laughs. My shoulders dropped in relief. I walked around the front of her chair and gently kicked her tire. “Your turn.”

  She hadn’t looked me in the eye all morning. She didn’t now. But she tilted her head back and said quietly, “Echo.” Tiny, delicate echoes reverberated around us.

  I let the silence simmer for a moment. It wasn’t easy. I wanted to give a thousand explanations. I wanted to spill my guts, give her all my words. I wanted to pull her to me and bury my face in her hair. But I didn’t want to push her. “Nice wheels.”

  “Dad had this at the office. He keeps it there for people to rent. He brought it home for me last week, but I wasn’t going to use it. I was just going to stay close to home and use the crutches. But I’m terrible at the crutches. The cast is so heavy, and they make my arms ache. And I was dying to get back here, so I decided to give it a try.”

  “You’re kind of terrible at the wheelchair, too.”

  She laughed lightly. She still wasn’t looking at me. I walked a few feet away to the wall of the cavern and sat down facing her, my arms draped over my bent knees. I kept my eyes fixed on hers. She blinked at the wall above my head.

  “Cat, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  She tapped the armrests of the wheelchair. “Yes. You should have.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “I’m not, Jesse.”

  “You should be.”

  She sighed, and crossed her arms. “I don’t like it when people tell me what I should feel, but I’ll play along. Why should I be angry at you?”

  “Because I made the choice not to tell you. As soon as I realized you didn’t know, I decided I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  She shrugged. “That doesn’t make me mad.”

  Why didn’t it? “But something is making it so you don’t want to look me in the eye.”

  She stiffened, and then turned her face toward me the slightest bit. But she couldn’t close the gap.

  “I liked that you didn’t know,” I said, trying to pull out the anger that I knew she had to be hiding. What else besides anger could be making it impossible for her to look at me? I wanted her to talk to me. To yell at me if she needed to. Grandpa said she knew how to argue. Well, I wanted her to argue with me. “If you had known, you would have prejudged me. You would have made assumptions.” I waited for her to say I should give her more credit than that, to argue that she’s not a shallow person.

  She crossed her arms, not responding, so I continued. “When you lead with movie star, you’re never truly seen.”

  Finally, finally, she lowered her head until her eyes rested on mine. I saw her throat move as she swallowed. She was quiet for a long moment. “You’re probably right.”

  That wasn’t the response I expected, or the one I wanted.

  “I understand why you didn’t tell me, Jesse. I do. And I’m not angry that you didn’t tell me. I tried to be. Valerie certainly laid out all the possible reasons I should be. But what I’m feeling right now—why it’s hard to look at you—it has more to do with me than it does with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m...I’m sad.”

  “Sad? Why are you sad?”

  She twisted her hands together and rested the
m in her lap. She looked up at the ceiling of the cavern, finding her words. I waited. I sat on the cold rock, nearly vibrating with the need to know, to have this settled so I could hold her and pick up where we left off.

  “I’m a curious person,” she said, finally. “I like to learn. I like talking with people and hearing different sides to an argument.” She stopped here and chuckled. “I even like to be proven wrong—it’s exciting to think I have more to learn. Anyway, I explore caves and I hang out with my few friends and my family. I was happy with my quiet, little life; with who I am. And then I met you.”

  She paused to take a few slow breaths before continuing. “I started thinking maybe I wanted a little bit more. For the first time in my life, I wanted more than I had. And I started thinking crazy thoughts. I’ve never wanted to venture out of the world I’ve created for myself. But suddenly I wanted to explore the world with someone else. I thought there was no way I could have what I wanted. But then, slowly, as I got to know you, I started to think I could have…” She paused, and I could see the blush on her cheeks even in this dim light. “Well, you know.”

  I smiled a slow smile. Oh, I knew all right. I knew, and she could have whatever she wanted of me. Hanging on her every word, barely breathing, my heart was about to beat out of my chest. My legs itched to get up and go to her. I curled my hands into fists trying to quell the urge to touch her. I stayed put, a place in the back of my mind still focused on the fact that she said she was sad. Sad.

  “Anyway, I got past it, and I got hopeful. Why not me? That’s what I thought. Well, now I know why not me.”

  I tilted my head to the side, cold dread running through my veins “I don’t understand.” In fact, I was beginning to understand, but I wanted to be wrong.

  She held her hands out, palms up. She took a shaky breath in. “I can’t compete with the worldliness and beauty of the women in your life.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand to silence me, and continued. “I don’t want to. I want to live a quiet life here with my family, experiencing small joys and simple routines. I want evenings on the porch watching the sun drop below the horizon. I want card games and town picnics. I want my books and my caves.”