Keepers

by Meg Collett

  Not that it was actually little. It was far too big for one person, and the quiet tended to press in on her late at night. She hadn’t considered that when her parents put up the down payment. The house had just been pretty, and it still was, but it would never be truly hers. It would never be a home.

  How had she built her entire life on such shifting sands? Had she been so drunk all the time that she hadn’t even realized how awful it felt to not own a single thing? To not be responsible for even one bill?

  She took so much power in using her parents’ blood money, but if she was honest, they controlled her life, down to her cell phone bill, which, if she guessed right, they would disconnect at the end of this month. The show would pay out their weekly stipend on Friday, just in time for her to pay her electric and water bills with some leftover to purchase a pay-as-you-go phone and some essentials. The weekly stipends would keep her afloat for now, and if she and Cade made it to the finale, she could use her share of the winnings to buy the house back from her parents.

  That felt like something—something to be proud of. And she could get a dog to help with the quiet evenings.

  Maybe a corgi. She’d always liked the way their little furry butts shook as they—

  “Stevie?” Cade said right in her ear, his hand on the small of her back, suddenly burning her.

  She jumped, splashing water back on them.

  “So-sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I said your name a few times.”

  Stevie swallowed her heart back down and turned off the water. “It’s okay. I just zoned out there for a minute.”

  “What were you thinking about?” He leaned against the counter, watching her, his gaze threatening to pull her apart and let the night breeze cool her insides.

  “House payments.” Too late, she realized she should have lied. The words sounded pathetic, even to her. “I mean—”

  “If you need help,” he was already saying, but he stopped and chuckled. They’d never been this awkward before. “I can lend you some money.”

  “No, it’s okay. Really.”

  “I can.” He’d gone serious, brow furrowing. “It’s no problem. That’s what friends do.”

  Friends. She had to fight back an involuntary gag at the word. She hated him using it, especially when he kept throwing it into the awkward space between them. They could never just be friends.

  Funny how she’d had Cade inside her once, his body pressed against her, his touch eating up her flesh, but one sober kiss had drawn the line between them—the point of no return for their friendship, at least for her.

  She might never recover from this silly little crush.

  The quiet between them pressed in harder than her empty house ever had, even on the worst nights when she had to chase away the shadows with wine.

  “Hey.” Cade ran his fingers down her hand resting on the sink’s lip. The light touch was just meant to get her attention, but she almost started crying.

  She opened her mouth, closed it, rearranged the words in her head, and started again. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. It wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, not even close, but she forced the words out. “About yesterday. Shepherd, the showrunner, wanted more heat. Apparently, their romance options are pretty low with the other cast members, so it kind of fell on us to pick up the slack.”

  As she spoke, Cade’s expression changed. The lines in his face deepened, his eyebrows lowering over his eyes. His mouth pulled down into a frown, confirming Stevie’s fears: he’d thought the kiss was real, at least in the sense that she hadn’t been asked to do it. That it wasn’t just for the show.

  “Stevie—” He started, and she hated his tone. It sounded like he might say something awful, something like mistake, and never again, and I can’t like you like that.

  “I know. I shouldn’t have,” she spoke over him. “But we need to show the producers we’re willing to work with them. It’ll get you farther in the competition. I should have warned you, but Emilie was worried it might not feel organic. She wants to—”

  “Stevie.” He closed his hands around her upper arms, and then he said three little words that completely threw her off balance. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked up at him. His thumbs rubbed her arms, back and forth, back and forth. Her mind followed the motion, her thoughts scrambling. Back and forth. Back and forth. He wanted to know if she was okay? She should be asking him that. She was an asshole. An idiot.

  And here he was, too worried about her to think about himself, his eyes dripping with warmth and concern.

  “I’m fine,” she said, voice hoarse.

  “I hate that they make you do shit like that,” he said, not giving her time to railroad on. “I know how hard it is on you, and I didn’t realize they would put you in these situations.”

  Like kissing him was a situation.

  Her mind clicked. Freaking hell, he thought she didn’t want to kiss him.

  She opened her mouth to set him straight—very straight—but her throat closed. What could she say? That she liked him? A lot? Like, maybe, because she was the world’s biggest idiot, she might love him?

  And it could be love, she thought. She didn’t know for sure, but him staring down at her like that—like he cared—felt better than breathing. His touch, the back and forth across her skin, felt better than wine or that familiar whiskey buzz in her blood. He felt like that moment after a drink or two, when she teetered perfectly on the brink of tipsiness before crashing into the pit of sloppy drunkenness, when the world was only neon colors and warm happiness. When everything was perfect. He was that.

  And she’d loved alcohol.

  That was how she knew she loved Cade Cooper more: she could go the rest of her life without wine or whiskey or anything, but she might completely shatter if she had to go without him.

  She’d been quiet too long. He was getting worried, the stretching silence between them confirming his worst thoughts.

  “I can’t believe how stupid I was for agreeing to do this show right now, right after you got out of rehab. You should be focusing on you and your sobriety, and I’m messing it all up. And yesterday . . .” He took a deep breath and shook his head. She already knew she would hate the next words out of his mouth. “You don’t need that. It just confuses everything and keeps your focus off you. I hate that they put you in that situation, and I know you said it’s important to keep up the drama for the show, but we can get by without it. I made you a promise, remember?”

  He was waiting for an answer, but she didn’t think she was breathing. “Yeah?”

  “I told you we would get you through this together, and I’ve already screwed up. But I’m not screwing up any more. I mean it, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” she repeated, eyes locked on that patch of pale skin just beneath his throat.

  She wondered what it tasted like.

  A knife twisted through her gut at the thought.

  Cade let her go and stepped back. A silly grin spread across his face, his dimples twisting the knife in deeper.

  “I promise you won’t have to kiss me again.” He cocked his head, laughter hanging on his carefree words. “No matter what Emilie says. I can take her, I think. We’ve got this, right?”

  He played the words back at her, the ones he’d said the night she found out her parents had drained her account. The night this had all started.

  We’ve got this, right?

  “We’ve got it.”

  His grin fell. He’d heard her lie. “Wha—”

  Kyra and Hale banged through the patio door, laughing. “Oh my gosh! Stevie! You’ll never guess what Hale just said about those mirrors!”

  Stevie met Cade’s gaze, his mouth slowly closing as Kyra’s and Hale’s feet hurried toward the dark kitchen.

  Right then, he might have guessed it.

  Might have sensed her truth.

  Could he see it? See how lost and in over her head she was
?

  She turned away right as Kyra bounded into the room and hit the lights. The warm fluorescents chased away the moonlight. Hale hooked his arm around Kyra’s waist and spun her around, her thrilling laugh spilling into even the quietest corners of the room.

  They were too distracted to see Stevie blinking back tears, but when she said, “What did the douche nugget say about me now?” even Cade wouldn’t hear the lie in her voice.

  Or the heartbreak.

  11

  “Welcome to the Reno Reality Week Two Finishing Touches, contestants!” The show’s host stood next to the judges, who all wore perfectly pressed smiles as if they hadn’t been baking in the Savannah heat for six takes because the host kept screwing up his lines. Technically, it was the start of phase two in the show, and producers made certain everyone said “week two” often, but it was really only the next day in the first week of filming, and they were filming the entire second phase out of order by starting with the Finishing Touches segment. It had something to do with scheduling and overtime and the line producer was very frazzled. “You might be wondering why you’re standing in front of a home improvement store, right? Well wonder no longer! Today, you will be fighting for your decorations. That’s right, fighting!”

  “Ah, shit,” Stevie muttered. She already knew how this was going to go.

  Cade shot her a horrified look.

  “One member from each team will be blindfolded! The blind contestant will run around the store, grabbing whatever they need from the shelves, while the second team member is in a lift, shouting directions! How fun, right?” The host clapped his hands, his white teeth almost blinding against the overly tanned hue of his face. “But don’t forget your budgets! You must stay under your allotted amount based on last week’s ranking. If you fail to come in under or right on budget . . .” He shook his head and wagged a manicured finger at them. “Your team won’t get any of the decorations or furniture you picked out, meaning your spare bedrooms will be completely empty! Oh, no!”

  “And remember,” the editor-in-chief of Homes and Gnomes chimed in. “You’re adding value in this week’s spare bedroom renovation. Think bunk beds, pullouts, and so on. Anything to add more sleeping space!”

  The host nodded at her like she’d baptized him in the Holy Ghost of property value. “That’s exactly right, Tina. Wonderful point, as always, and might I add, you look ravishing this morning!”

  Stevie rolled her eyes, and a camera zoomed in on her reaction. To Cade, she stage-whispered, “They’re totally boning.”

  Cade went out of his way to ignore her, even though he’d certainly heard her.

  “Now, contestants! You’ll have one minute inside the store to strategize who on your team will be blindfolded and who will be the caller. You’ll also want to use this time to decide what to grab. Each item is clearly marked with a jumbo price tag. It is up to the caller to keep track of how much you’re spending. I hope you’re good at math!” He winked and Stevie almost gagged. This guy was a restraining order waiting to happen.

  “Let’s get started!” As the host flung up his hands, he backhanded the editor-in-chief, knocking her glasses off her face and sending her toppling into the judge beside her.

  “Cut!” a producer screeched.

  Stevie snickered.

  “Reset!” someone else called.

  Even though the host and judges were resetting, with Tina getting a consult from Medical on her nose, the cameras were actively pointed at the contestants, who’d all taken the opportunity to strategize. The cameraman closest to Stevie moved in, the boom mic hovering just above them, just as Cade turned to her. “Who do you think should be our caller? I’m thinking you, since you’re probably the loudest and I’ll be able to hear you over everyone else.”

  “What the hell are you trying to say? I’m not loud.”

  Arie snorted right as Cade said, “Sure, sure. You’re not at all. I’m just saying it might, you know, work better that way. Or something.”

  “Also,” Arie added, “there’s actual math involved.”

  Stevie’s eyebrows spiked, her hand going to her hip. “I’ll have you know, I’m wonderful at—”

  “Quiet!”

  Everyone, including Stevie, instantly went silent. None of them wanted to stretch this out any longer. Though it was still early in the morning, the pavement was cooking beneath their feet and the humidity was steadily rising.

  “Rolling!”

  The host managed not to decapitate anyone this time, and after he delivered his lines, all the cameras went dark as the crew navigated their way inside the store. Stevie shuffled into the blessed air conditioning and glanced around. All the other contestants were also craning their necks, trying to get a peek at the merchandise. Unfortunately, a huge red curtain, suspended from the roof, was draped across the smooth concrete floor. Eight perfectly positioned shopping carts sat next to mechanical lifts used to reach items on the very top shelves in big supermarkets. Technically, at this point in the show, there would only be seven teams remaining, but since production didn’t want to cut anyone just yet, all eight teams would be competing in today’s contest.

  “Hot damn,” Arie drawled.

  Cade looked two seconds away from puking up his breakfast, and even Stevie’s cold, dead reality television heart was pumping. She hated to admit it, but this was kind of exciting. She made sure her face revealed nothing though. She had a reputation to maintain. For good measure, she shot a glare at Helena, who, of course, was checking Cade out.

  The little ho-bagel was wearing Steve Madden heels, though the producers had told everyone to wear sneakers. Anything to stand out and look hot apparently.

  The producers got everyone in position as the line producer, whose name Stevie still hadn’t bothered learning, droned on about getting only one take due to logistics and time constraints and overtime. He also reminded everyone that they had to assume a camera was on them at all times. Stevie tuned him out.

  “I think you should be the caller,” she told Cade as contestants started getting into the lifts and their partners took their spots behind a shopping cart.

  Cade took in a shaky breath. “You sure?”

  “Look.” Stevie stepped in front of him so he had to look at her and not at all the buzzing activity around them. “It’s going to get nasty out there. Lots of elbow throwing, nail scratching, and shin kicking. Are you ready for that? Can you be that nasty if you have to beat someone up for a throw pillow we really need? Can you be that person, Cade Cooper?”

  He swallowed. “Surely everyone will be respectable.” He smoothed a hand down his button-up. “Right?”

  His hopeful expression reminded her of last night, and her heart twisted up with pain again. Cade always wanted to see the good in things even when there was nothing good to be found. Like this competition. Her.

  Arie clapped a hand on Cade’s shoulder. “Better let her take this one, buddy. Besides, we have a thousand less bucks this week, and you need to keep an eye on the money.”

  Emilie came up behind them, her hand pressed to her headset, clearly listening to chatter on the other end. She snapped her fingers at them and waved to the lift with a helmet in her hand.

  Cade glanced back at Stevie. “Are you sure? What about my—I mean, what if you can’t understand me?”

  “You’ll be great, dude,” Arie said.

  Stevie nodded. “Don’t worry about that. Look, I’m just grabbing shit, okay? I’ll go to the big furniture first and get whatever we decide during our strategy minute. After that, I’ll just toss some stuff into the cart. If anything looks too expensive, just yell at me to throw it back out, because at least then it’ll be on the floor and harder for another team to pick up. You’ll be great.” He still looked uncertain, so Stevie added, “It’ll be so loud and chaotic that no one will hear you if you stutter a bit.”

  “But you need to hear me.” He wrung his hands together.

  She grinned at him. “I’ll hear you. Don�
��t worry. I’m, like, homed in on your voice. I can always hear you.”

  “You’re full of it.” But a grin threatened at the corner of his mouth, his dimples at the ready.

  “We’ve got this,” she said, though the words were shards in her throat.

  The grin split across his face. “We’ve got—”

  “Save the heartfelt shit for the cameras, you two,” Emilie snapped. She slapped the helmet onto Stevie’s head, crushing the careful curls she’d styled this morning. The helmet had a GoPro camera attached to the top like a bug antenna and a red blindfold in position for her to pull into place right when the strategy minute ended. Emilie nearly garroted her with the helmet’s chinstrap before saying, “Get in position. Now.”

  “Who pissed in your Wheaties?” Stevie asked, going to her cart as she tugged at the chinstrap, trying to catch a breath of air.

  Emilie flipped her off.

  Cade climbed into his lift while a crew member strapped a safety rope to his waist and attached it to the machine.

  “We’re really doing this?” he asked down at Stevie.

  Arie took his spot next to Cade’s lift. The cameras around them lifted, the blinking lights indicating they were hot.

  Stevie stretched out her neck. “We’re doing this damn thing.”

  “You sure we shouldn’t switch?” At the question, Stevie glanced up at him. His eyes were scanning her in a way she really couldn’t think about right now. “I don’t want these people hurting you.”

  With a warm fist pooling deep in her belly, Stevie gave him a slow, sinuous smile. Cade’s attention snapped to her mouth, his jaw clenching.

  “I’ve got a lot of pent-up rage, Cade. You should be worried for them.”

  She directed the last bit a few carts down the line, where Helena was lined up in her obnoxious high heels. Stevie snarled at her.

  When she was certain the cameras weren’t trained on her, Helena mouthed, “Fuck you.”