I hold my breath, watching the shock stutter across her face, and Asher’s wide eyes. Bad idea. I flash a smile and shove away from the table, stalking out of the little diner and into the bright afternoon sunlight. “Luca!” I hear Megan calling me, but I don’t stop.
I don’t talk about Dylan. In the four years since he died, I’ve avoided talking about him—it helped that we left town after his death, after I dropped out. No one complained—the football season was over.
My lips twist, a little bit of loathing for the town we came from and a little bit of disgust with myself.
I slide down the side of the building, slip my sunglasses on, and let the memories wash over me. Distantly, I’m aware of Megan sitting next to me, and I tense worriedly as she gets comfortable.
But she doesn’t talk—just tilts her head back and lets the sunlight warm her skin.
“I’m sorry, Luc. That you lost your friend that way. I—there’s nothing to say. Just I’m sorry.”
That simple. That useless phrase applied with a little bit of conviction.
“Why don’t you ever talk about him?”
“I didn’t want to share him, at first. But then it just became easier, and no one knew him. I wanted to be happy—and I’m not, not really. But I got better at pretending, until it got to be so damn good, I couldn’t tell if I was actually that happy and charming, or if I showed the world that because they expected it and made my life easier.”
Megan shifts, resting her head against my arm. “And with me?”
“You, lovely girl, was because I didn’t want to see the look I see in your eyes now. Cautious pity. I can’t take that from you—it would break my heart.”
She looks surprised, and I start to look away. Small fingers catch me, and I go still as they caress at my jaw, a soft pressure turning me to face her. I stare at her, and she smiles, a soft expression, before leaning forward and brushing her lips over mine lightly. Once. Twice. The third time, I groan and she huffs a laugh. I growl and catch her by the nape of her neck, drag her closer, kissing her for real. Until all thought of the past and Dylan and laughter and loss are gone, and she’s panting in my arms, her little hands twisting in my shirt. I nip at her lip once more, and she arches into me, her eyes closed as she revels in the sensations. I grin and slap the curve of her ass, where my hand has somehow drifted.
“Come on, lovely girl. Let’s see if we scared English off.”
Asher
I expected something. There is too much hanging on Luca for the model to not have something heavy in his past. But this—his best friend and lover, dying while he was with the woman they loved.
I had asked how he got started in triads. I didn’t expect this, though. Not that it was his first experience, was as natural to them as breathing. I didn’t expect him to tell me he started doing it in high school and can’t imagine life without it.
I watch as Megan hurries across the parking lot, chasing Luca down.
He doesn’t want Sun. But what does he want? And can I be that? I’m honest enough to acknowledge that I want him—that I had wanted him before this story. Sleeping with him seems less a distant possibility and closer to a reality.
I lick my lips and pay the waitress, standing to leave. The diner is close to empty, but there is one table of teen girls, and they’re staring at me a little too intently.
Fuck.
I tug my cap a little lower and adjust my sunglasses. Except, I don’t have any. Luca broke them this morning when we stopped for gas, and I haven’t had a chance to replace them. Need to fix that shit—immediately.
I look out the window for Megan and directly into a camera. Fuck a duck. I mutter a curse and head for the door. The teen girls are already up and moving, and I know I’m not getting out of here without dealing with them.
But a group of five teen girls never stays at five teen girls. They spawn—they’ve already called friends and told them I’m here, and it’s going to get out of hand quick.
I text Meg a quick SOS and paste a smile on my face.
“You’re Isaac Kreigh, aren’t you?” one of the girls asks, her voice squeaky and excited.
Her friend rolls her eyes. “Isaac is a character—his name is Asher.” She shakes her head, smiling at me like I’ll understand, and all I want is for her to vanish, quickly. With her friends.
“I’m sorry, ladies, I’m afraid,” I start.
“Then you are Knox. Asher Knox of Kreigh fame?”
“I’m really not doing a public appearance,” I force out.
“Can we just get a picture?” the quiet girl says shyly, and it breaks my defense. The shy ones are my fucking kryptonite. I close my eyes and count to ten, and then flash the slightly crooked smile that won me the Isaac Kreigh role.
The girls squeal and shift, plastering themselves to me. In my pocket, I feel my phone vibrate, but the bubbly girl’s ass is too close to my thigh—she’s practically rubbing against me—and I can’t reach it without groping her. I’m not that desperate to get away.
“Smile!” she chirps, and they snap a quick shot, before giggling and rearranging themselves. I try not to fidget as they argue about poses, eventually handing off the camera to the shy girl to take better shots as they pose around me.
After five minutes—five long fucking minutes—my phone buzzes again, and this time I am desperate. I dislodge bubbly—Mindy—and hold up a finger.
“Where the hell are you, English?”
“Get the car and get over here—just follow the teen girls,” I mutter.
“Shit,” he hisses, and the call ends.
“Are you going to sign my bag?” Mindy pouts. She’s nibbling her lip, trying hard for seductive—and failing miserably.
I grab the bag—it’s a big gaudy thing, a fake Chanel. For a spiteful second, I want to tell her preening friends, but that would be cruel, and it’s not me they want—it’s Isaac. I just have the character’s face. I swallow and scribble my signature, adding the loopy signature I perfected for Isaac. She smirks and goes on tiptoes to kiss my cheek, a gesture I am barely able to keep from recoiling from. When her hand slips into my pocket, though, I do flinch, taking a sharp step backward. She giggles, and turns to show her friends—including the three more who just arrived, their eyes wide and disbelieving.
The car pulls up behind me, and I let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, ladies. I’ve got to be on my way, though—my agent is going to kick my ass for putting us behind.”
One of them launches herself at me—I see it before she even moves, the intention and the way she gathers herself just before she comes at me. I catch her out of reflex, and her lips are mashed down against mine, coarse and demanding, her tongue stabbing at my mouth with a disgusting lack of finesse or skill.
I shudder and drop her without fanfare. My civility drops away, and I spin to the car, shoving a bright eyed redhead aside as I pull the door open wide enough to slip in. Megan taps the gas, hard enough that the engine revs, and the girls dart back.
She hits the gas as she shoves the Compass into drive, and we lurch forward in a burst of speed.
“Fuck,” I snarl, wiping a hand over my mouth. From the backseat—shit, I got in the front—Luca touches my shoulder. I flinch. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap. Megan’s eyes dart over to me, but I’m ignoring her.
I hate it. I hate the grabbing hands and the eager smiles and the shit shoved on me—which reminds me. I delve into my pocket.
It’s a pair of silk panties, bright pink. Obviously worn. In the backseat, Luca chokes, and I want to scream, anything to get this disgusting shitty feeling out of my head. Without comment, Megan hits the window button. It eases down, and I toss the dirty panties and the number she also shoved into my pocket.
It helps a little, to ease the gross, panicked feeling I’m fighting.
Luca opens his mouth in the back seat, and Megan shakes her head. She reaches into her purse, without looking away from the road, and hands me an iPod, the earbuds w
rapped around it. Then a novel. I tuck the earbuds in and curl up against the window as the music blasts through my ears, drowning out thought and the people who demand so much of me, the way I feel so fucking cheap and gross. Everything. And when the knot of anxiety loosens its choke hold, when I can see past the anger and start to think, I open the book and let the words obliterate that too.
Chapter Fourteen
Megan
I can feel Luca’s agitation in the backseat, but I’m not talking until I know Asher is past the worst of it. Which, truthfully, could take hours. Sometimes, after a really busy press junket, he’s a mess for days. It’s hard to tell, but I do know that contact won’t be welcome until he’s through this—anything could set him off.
I choke on my sigh. As much as I adore Knox, the drama of dealing with him and his inevitable mood swings is exhausting. But this one was my fault. I knew people were watching us, after Luca left the table so abruptly, and I knew that, left alone, Asher would be scrutinized and eventually someone would put things together.
It’s hard to be the face of one of the most successful franchises in recent history and not attract attention.
It was the role that made Asher—it propelled him from Shakespeare in dingy London theatres to the limelight of Hollywood. Far and Gone was a cult phenomenon that grew with each season of the show, until Isaac Kreigh and Asher Knox were household names—and almost interchangeable. When the series ended, fans were furious. They wanted more Isaac. Wanted to know what happened to their favorite time-traveling boy next door.
Which is why the movie coming out in July is such a big deal. It’s the last time fans get to see Isaac and follow him through time.
For Asher—and me—the premiere and ensuing madness can’t be over fast enough. The sooner it’s over, the sooner he can move on to anything but Isaac.
Like Black Tides. I catch my lip between my teeth and try to focus on that, and not how things could go wrong taking the two men who are beginning to matter so much to me back home.
It’s not that I don’t love Branton—I do. It was the perfect town to grow up in, an idyllic hideaway. But it’s where I grew up—and everyone in the city knew who I was. Everyone knew David Beauchamp and his oldest daughter, and me—the little girl he’d taken in.
Some people—ok, a lot of people—had been confused when I left for LA. Why be a little fish in a big pond when I could be a Beauchamp in Branton?
But staying home meant two things—working for Daddy and living in Nik's shadow. Neither was something I was particularly comfortable with. I'd rather be the little fish than Nik's baby sister.
I blink hard, trying to force my worry aside—I’m not even sure Nik will be home. After the divorce, she might have cut and run—she always talked about leaving Branton.
Of course, Nik talked about a lot of things.
Late that night, we stop at a tiny Holiday Inn. I'm exhausted from driving and the stress of an unraveling Asher sitting next to me. And Luca, with his watching eyes. He touches my arm as Ash stumbles into the bathroom. "What do you need?"
"Vodka. And food? He should eat. We all should." Belatedly, I realize how amazingly wonderful Luca has been, giving us time and silence. I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His come around my shoulders, squeezing me to him, and his lips brush my hair. "Thank you," I say, sleepily. "I know you didn't sign on for the crazy."
His fingers tilt my head up, until I'm staring at his too serious eyes. "I signed up for whatever comes. I knew this was part of the package. Do what you do, lovely—talk him down. I'll be back." He hesitates, then rubs a thumb over the curve of my cheek. "What about you? You doing ok?"
I blink hard and force a wobbly smile. His gentle tone is undoing me, something Luca has always been damn good at. "Fine," I chirp. "I'm fine."
"You’re not. But you can tell me after you deal with Ash."
I nod, and he leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before he backs out of the hotel room.
I wait until I hear the Compass back away. Then I take a deep breath and walk to the bathroom. The shower is running, and I'm not sure if it's because he's trying to wash off the afternoon, or if he's falling apart and using the water to mask it. I tap on the door hesitantly then push it open. "Ash?"
He's sitting in the tub, arms looped around his long legs, water pounding down on his head. When he looks up at me, long hair hanging in his startling eyes, I'm left breathless by the desolation in his gaze. I step into the little room and walk over to the tub, ignoring the water splashing me as I crouch next to him.
"Talk to me," I say softly.
"They don't want this," he murmurs, a manic gleam in his eyes. "They want Kreigh, and they want me, because that's what they see—but if the whole world saw me like this, they'd never want me again."
I shrug. "Maybe not. But you’d miss the spotlight."
He barks a laugh. "I'd be able to eat my lunch with a mate in public. Snog my girlfriend without being watched. I don't want this, Meggy."
I catch him by the jaw and force his gaze up until he's staring at me. His lips are compressed, an angry line, and I struggle to keep the bite out of my tone. "They are the price, Asher. You have the entire world in love with you—"
"No!" he shouts, jerking away. "They love Isaac. No one sees me!"
"I do!" I shout back. His eyes go wide, and I soften my tone, leaning into his space, ignoring the water beating down on us. "I see you. We both see you."
"I'm losing myself, Meg. I'm so scared I'll get swallowed up in the crazy surrounding Isaac, and I don't know how to separate myself from it."
It's a whispered confession, almost drowned out by the sound of the water. "You keep your eyes on us."
His eyes, wide and scared, find mine, almost desperately. "What about when Kevin takes you away? This can’t last."
I laugh, softly, and shake my head. "Do you really think I'll let him? You’re mine, Ash. I'm not going anywhere." I stand and strip out of my wet t-shirt, peel off my soaked jeans. Good thing we're arriving tomorrow—I'm running out of clean clothes and cute underwear. "Luca will be back soon."
His eyes are a little less panicked, brighter with desire than fear—but he won't follow me out to the bedroom. He's not ready for that, and I know it. So I leave him to the shower and go slip into an oversized t-shirt, sitting on the bed and texting Kevin while I wait for the boys to come to me.
Chapter Fifteen
Luca
Megan has been a twitchy mess all day. She’s been quiet and didn’t even curse when her phone died—I’m pretty sure that’s a first for her. She drums her fingers on the side of the door, and I finally reach across the backseat, catching her hand and stilling her.
She shoots me a look, half apologetic, half annoyed. In the front seat, Asher is oblivious—as he has been most of the day. I’d come back from my food run to find her in a t-shirt and wet hair, Asher lost in a book. Neither had been in the mood for sex or talking, and I hadn’t pushed. Instead, we’d eaten and Meg proposed a drinking game while we watched an old Law and Order, and we fell asleep drunk, with Asher cuddled between the two of us.
It felt right.
But that had been hours ago, and the two of them are still wound tight. I squeeze her hand and ask, softly, “What’s wrong?”
She flashes me a funny look. “Do you think you can go home again?”
Ah. So that’s what this is. A little relief fills me that she isn’t freaking out over us.
“No. Not really.”
She looks at me, startled, and I shrug. “People change, Megan. They leave home and grow up and change. And when they go back, nothing is the same and everything is, and you can’t go back in time.”
“But you are going back, aren’t you.” It’s a statement, from Asher.
“Do you really think I’ve fought this hard for us, only to walk away as soon as I’ve got it?” I ask, amused. “No, English. I’m not going anywhere.”
He meets my gaze in
the rearview mirror, a smile ticking his lips up, and I want to kiss him. Right now. Fuck this stupid drive. “How much longer?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Soon,” she whispers.
I look back at her and shake her shoulders lightly. “Tell us.”
“I left this place to find a place that was mine. I grew up in Nik’s shadow, expecting to take over for Daddy when he retired from his insurance firm. I love Branton—I went to school here, and I was raised here. But I needed to prove I could be more than this tiny town and Nik’s baby sister.”
“So you chose the biggest stage in the world to try and make it?”
“Stupid right?” she says, a little bitter.
There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then, “Megan, you have—you proven yourself.”
She smacks my chest, hard. “No I haven’t.”
“You’re in a car with Asher Knox, a man who threatened to leave his agency for you. And me—I’m a working actor who just landed the lead across from Knox. If that’s not making it in Hollywood, what is?”
“I didn’t do that—Kevin only gave me the job because I’m Ash’s type.”
“But that’s not why you kept the job. Fuck, if that’s all I wanted, you’d have been sent packing months ago, pet. You haven’t slept with me—even now that we’ve fooled around, we haven’t shagged. I’m not pissed because he’s threatening to take my fuck buddy—I’m pissed because you’re the best handler I’ve had in my career.”
She bites her lip, and the calm voice of the GPS tells Asher to take the next exit. His gaze darts to her, and then he eases into the exit lane. She shakes her head as we speed toward the place she comes from, and I find myself torn between wanting to pass it and wanting to see what makes her her.
“The problem is, no one will care,” she says quietly. “To them, I’ll always be Meggy Beauchamp, Nikki’s baby sister.”
I squeeze her tight to my side, and she shivers as we curve away from the highway, into a tiny town.
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