It’s only noon, but I finish my third glass of Scotch and lie back, staring at the ceiling. I wonder what it feels like to burn to death. What kills you first—the heat or the smoke? How long does it take before your skin melts off and you crumble into a pile of charred flesh and bone? I roll over. Can your skin actually catch on fire, or is it just your clothes? I think of all the things I’ve done—things I still do—that could end in flames. And then I wonder if anyone else has thoughts like these, thoughts of slowly dying in the most painful ways and wanting to know how it feels.
I get up, needing another drink to drown the darkness. Or something more. Something stronger. Something to knock me out and let me sleep deeply enough that no thoughts can disturb me.
Three Norcos and a shot of whiskey later, I pass out in the shower, waking hours later to cold water pouring onto my body. My head pounds and I push up, so dizzy that I vomit. I adjust the temperature of the water, but it doesn’t get warm enough. I clamber out of the shower, body tense and shaking. What the fuck? I shouldn’t feel anything.
My head is in a fog and the light hurts my eyes. I wrap myself in a towel, water streaming down my hair and onto the floor, and shuffle my way to bed. I collapse and bury myself under the blankets, naked and shivering. My heavy eyelids close, and I pass out again, not waking until later that night.
Claire brings me a double espresso and two Advil when she brings me a late dinner. I can see the concern on her face. She’s not dumb; she knows something is up—again.
“Are you all right?” she asks as she starts straightening up my room. My arse is still parked in bed. I’m feeling like shit and don’t want to move.
“Fine,” I say, pushing mashed potatoes around on my plate. The food looks good and smells wonderful. But I’m not hungry.
“You don’t look fine,” she says. “How much did you have to drink?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say. I don’t pay her to lecture me. I don’t pay her to be concerned. But I’d be lying if I said a small part of me isn’t grateful she cares.
“I know,” she says softly. “But you are my business.”
I grumble and take a bite of food to avoid answering. It’s fucking ridiculous she thinks I have a problem. I don’t. I can stop drinking and taking pills whenever I want. And it’s not like I have a drug problem; these are prescriptions after all. She gives me another bottle of water, picks out my clothes for tomorrow, and reminds me that I have another interview Tuesday evening, lines to rehearse, and need to hit the gym.
And this is all on top of the twelve hours of filming.
Claire finishes cleaning my room and setting things out for me. She tells me for the fifth time to look over my lines for tomorrow. I can see the worry in her eyes when she leaves, closing the door behind her. I get out of bed and walk to the sitting area of the room. I should go over my lines. I’ve read the entire script twice, but that isn’t enough. I finish the espresso and rub my forehead, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Dammit. I should have had Claire stay and read over the script with me.
I flip to the scene we’re shooting tomorrow and stare at the page. I look over each word, but nothing sticks in my head. I close my eyes and let out a breath. It’s nearing eleven p.m. If I’m not going to go over lines, I should sleep. Well, attempt to sleep. Fucking insomnia.
Instead, I get my phone and look at the picture of Haley. I want to call her, but I don’t at the same time. I’m not concerned with “calling too soon” or whatever stupid rules are supposed to be in place. I do what I bloody want to do. I think of Haley, of the way her lips felt against mine, the gentle way she wrapped her arms around me, moving in until her soft breasts crushed against my chest.
I can honestly say that was the first time in the years since my stardom blew up that I kissed a woman without intending to fuck her. I did want to sleep with Haley. Not only was her pain beautiful, but she was hot, and I thought it was ridiculous she was worried about being Hollywood thin. I don’t find bones attractive anyway. She is perfect and just thinking about her naked is giving me a hard-on. There’s something different about Haley, something so respectable. It isn’t a secret that most women go out with me based solely on my looks, not caring who I really am. I use that to my advantage, fucking just to feel good with no strings attached.
Thinking about kissing Haley, thinking about her lips and her breasts and the way her hips ground into mine, turns me on even more. I want to hear her voice. My heart speeds up as I call her, beating faster and faster each time her phone rings and she doesn’t pick up.
“Hello?” she says, almost sounding shy. Right. She doesn’t have my number. Well, not my real number. The one I give out gets answered by Claire if at all.
“It’s Aiden,” I quickly tell her.
“Oh, hey. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I lie. “What about you? Are you sleeping in the barn again?”
She laughs, and God, I love it. “I was sleeping on the couch until you woke me up.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.”
“I’m glad you did,” she says, and I can hear rustling in the background. “I, uh, was having a nightmare.”
“You’re welcome, then.” I want to go to her, comfort her. I’ve never wanted to do that for anyone before. What the hell? “How’s the foal?”
“She drank out of a bucket,” she says, sounding a little more awake. “But not enough. I really hope she’s weaned from the bottle soon. This is a little exhausting, I won’t lie.”
I laugh. “It’s like having a newborn, but people don’t offer to come over and help.”
“So true,” she says with a laugh too. “How’d things go with your manager?”
“Fine.” I feel my stress level rise when I think about everything he has booked for me. “I’m gonna be on the Tonight Show in a few weeks.”
“That’s cool,” she says, but she doesn’t sound impressed. “I’d be nervous.”
“I probably will be.”
“Really? I can’t see you being nervous about anything.”
Good, then she didn’t realize I was nervous to kiss her. “Yeah, but just a little.” I hear her walking through the house and a door softly clicking shut behind her. She calls to Chrissy and wind blows through the phone. Knowing she’s outside, alone in the dark, bothers me. I wish I didn’t have to be on set early tomorrow, or else I’d go to her. The drive to the set took about an hour, and it took about an hour to get to Haley’s. I wonder how long it would take to get to the set from her house. I’m driven to work every morning, and I don’t pay attention on the way; I actually have no idea where I am.
“What kind of scene are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, and I hear the barn door slide open and a horse nicker to her.
My mind blanks. Fuck. I really don’t know my lines. “A bunch of drama. Maybe a sex scene.”
“Are you ever afraid you’re gonna pop a boner?” she asks, and I laugh at her bluntness.
“No. Well, I was at first. But there are so many people telling you what to do. There’s like three people telling you to thrust faster and breath heavier while another is concerned with the way my arse looks. It’s so awkward and physically uncomfortable having my junk shoved inside a little bag to keep it out of the way.”
She laughs softly. “I knew it was like that, but I never put much thought into it. That would be awkward. Hey, sweetheart,” she says, and it takes me a second to realize she’s talking to a horse. A few seconds pass, and then the door slides shut again. “She’s sleeping. I’m not going to wake her up until after I eat and change into my PJs. Then I’ll be sleeping in the barn again.”
“What you do, Haley, is amazing.”
“Nah, there are others who do more than I do.”
I smile. She’s modest too. Definitely unlike the women I’m used to. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Taking care of the foal. I’m going to beg Lori to come over and give me a few hours to either go grocery shopping or nap
. Probably nap, but I do need food. Why do you ask?” She sounds hopeful. Maybe. I want her to be. “Are you not busy?”
Yep. She’s hopeful. “No, I’m swamped tomorrow, but I wish I weren’t. I want to see you again.” I imagine her smiling, some of the sadness disappearing from her green eyes.
I want her to say she wants to see me too, that she’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her, but instead she just says, “Really?”
I laugh again. “Yeah. Is it that surprising?”
“Yes,” she tells me honestly. “I’m a basket case. I still don’t understand why you want to be around me. You can have anyone you want. Trust me, you don’t want me. I’m broken.”
Her words are like a bullet to the heart. She isn’t broken. She can’t be broken, because if she is, then what am I? “You’re the one I want,” I say softly.
“You shouldn’t want me, Aiden.” Her voice is tight and full of emotion.
“How about you let me be the judge of that?”
“Fair enough.” I hear another door open and her rustling around through something. Then buttons beep on her microwave. “I’m having popcorn for dinner,” she mumbles. “How pathetic is that?”
I chuckle. “I think you’ll have to go get food instead of napping tomorrow.”
She groans. “I know. I really need to, or I’m going to start sharing formula with the baby.”
“She needs a name.”
“I’ve been trying to think of something. Most of the time names just come to me. Phoenix did, but her name is obvious.”
Oh right. The horse was on fire. She emerged from the flames and lived. Just like Haley. “Aurelia,” I say. “It means golden, and her fur is gold. Kind of lame, I guess.”
“No, I love it. Aurelia it is. That’s a really pretty name.”
My heart thumps and I roll my eyes at myself. “So you’re really playing hooky tomorrow?”
“I am. I already called in and said I had the flu. They bought it.” Popcorn pops in the background. “So,” she starts. “Am I going to see you again?”
I smile and feel a tingle of desire go through me. Fuck, I want her. “Only if you want to.”
“I do,” she says slowly. “I like you too, Aiden. I don’t want you to think that I don’t, or that the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line is just a line, but you know. With everything that’s happened, I’m not…I shouldn’t…I’m not who I used to be if that makes sense.”
“It does make sense,” I tell her, and I’m tempted to open the door to my own personal hell and let her know she’s not the only one forever changed. But I don’t. I can’t.
“When are you free?”
“Friday I don’t need to be on set.”
“I work,” she says with a sigh. “But I might get out not long after lunch.”
“Call me when you do?”
“I can do that,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling. “Uh, this number?”
“Yes. This is my real number. I didn’t give you a fake one, but I don’t hand out my personal number to just anyone.”
“I understand. And I’ve given a fake number more than once.”
“Those poor guys.”
“Heartbroken, I’m sure.”
I yawn and my body aches for sleep. “I should go to bed,” I begrudgingly say. “I have to get up early.”
“Okay,” she says back. “Have a good night.”
I will because the storm inside me has passed. All because of her. “You too. I hope you get some sleep. Give Aurelia a pet for me.”
“I can do that. Good night, Aiden.”
“Night, Haley. You should probably lock the barn doors when you’re out there,” I say. “Ya know, just in case.”
“I will. I’m making Chrissy come with me too, and I’ll keep the rifle close by. I don’t like being alone. Even the house feels too empty.”
“Being alone is a little unnerving,” I admit, the real Aiden coming through again. “You’re alone with your thoughts and just alone in general.”
“The thoughts are my biggest thing right now. The horses make me feel safe, which I know is silly.”
“Maybe. But you love them, and the things we hold closest have a way of making us feel safe.”
“Very true. What do you hold closest?”
I hesitate. I don’t know. My career? I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t hold anything close. Things that are close hurt you. “My friends,” I lie, the answer being myself. For the last few years at least, I’ve put myself first. It’s the only way to keep the darkness out of my head.
“How early is early for you?” she asks as she munches on popcorn.
“Tomorrow it’s sunrise.”
“Ouch. That is early. I was thinking you were going to tell me eight or something.”
I laugh. “The director is all about using every last fucking minute of daylight.”
“Then you should get some sleep.”
“I should,” I say, and I realize we’ve been saying goodnight for the last five minutes. “And you too.”
“I’ll try. Goodnight, Aiden. I’ll call you Friday.”
I smile. She’ll be calling sooner than that. “Night.”
Haley
I startle awake, smoke filling my lungs. Aurelia is nestled up close to me, sound asleep. My heart races so fast it hurts and I can’t breathe. My hands shake as my brain wrestles with a flashback. I know I’m in the barn. I know there isn’t a fire, but I can smell the smoke, smell the burning scent of flesh and fur, and feel the heat. My shoulder aches, and I’m overcome with the urge to rip off my jacket and put out the flames.
If it weren’t for this new life sleeping next to me, pressed as close as she could get, I would lose it. I let out a slow breath and close my eyes. I’m not on fire. I’m okay. I open my eyes and look around the barn. I’m in a corner of Aurelia’s stall. Chrissy is sleeping on a horse blanket close to us. Everyone else is quiet, also sleeping.
I grab my phone, needing a distraction. I go to my pictures—yes, I saved the picture Aiden posted of us—and look at it, feeling my heart rate slow. A small part of me looks forward to seeing him Friday. He makes me feel calm, and his complete lack of judgment is so unexpected. There’s something about him that makes me think he knows exactly what I’m going through, which is crazy because his life is perfect.
I miss him. Miss his accented voice, miss the way he looks at me, miss the way he makes me feel like I’m worth it. I stare at the picture for a few more seconds before setting my phone down. I pull my hood up and rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes. Aurelia is a tough little girl. I stroke her fur and smile, feeling so much relief. She’s made it through two days and doesn’t seem like she’s missed her mom that much, which was my biggest worry. A depressed foal quickly leads to a sick foal.
I look up in the direction of Phoenix’s stall, hating the black ball of resentment I feel toward her. Mom died saving her, and she isn’t eating, isn’t doing what she has to do in order to get better. And now I’m feeling guilty because I’ve limited my interaction with her, but it’s just too painful. She’s taken care of, I remind myself. I spent my grocery money on her medicine, after all.
I doze off into a dark spiral of guilt and nightmares, waking about an hour later to Aurelia getting up. She goes to the bucket and takes a long drink of milk.
“Good baby,” I whisper, cold already. Snuggling with a baby horse is like holding a fuzzy space heater. I shoo Chrissy out of the stall before she can nip at Aurelia’s legs, and softly walk down the barn aisle. Shakespeare and Sundance are lying down, sleeping. Benny is standing in the back of his stall with his head down, eyes closed and mouth hanging. He has one back leg bent a bit, putting his weight on the other three legs.
And Phoenix…Phoenix is awake, head hanging low and tears streaming from her dark eyes. Her feed bowl is full of untouched grain, and her hay has only been picked at, lying uneaten on the ground of her stall. I clutch my
heart and grind my teeth together. She looks pitiful, completely miserable.
“Hey, sweetie,” I whisper. Her ear flicks in my direction, but she doesn’t look at me. I stand there, looking at her, unable to move for several minutes. Then I finally shake myself and go back to Aurelia’s stall to get my blanket. I slide Phoenix’s stall open and clip the stall guard into place. I wrap the blanket around myself and sink down, keeping my legs out of her stall.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, and I start to cry. “I should have done this a long time ago.” I start shaking, suddenly freezing. “I’m sorry. But it hurts, Phoenix, so much. I can’t look at you without remembering what happened. I look at you and I feel the fire, I smell the smoke, and I miss Mom, so much. And,” I start, but I have to stop until I can get the sobs under control. “It’s my fault. I haven’t told anyone that, but it is. I heard you. I went after you. Mom told me not to, but I did anyway. It’s my fault she went in, it’s my fault she never came out. I killed her!” I double over, hysterical. I’m crying so hard I can hardly breathe. The sobs come out of me in waves, rattling my body painfully.
I’m crying so hard that I don’t hear her move. A soft muzzle presses into my cheek. I open my eyes, sight blurry with tears. Phoenix is standing over me, nose pressed against my face. She blinks, and a tear rolls down her charred skin, falling onto me. I slowly sit up. She nudges me.
“You’re not mad, are you?” I whisper, voice trembling. “You should be. You can be. I should have been here from the start, Phoenix. Maybe you’d be better. I just can’t. And I know it’s an excuse and a stupid one at that. But I can’t. I can’t do this all.” I close my swollen eyes. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and my arms aren’t long enough to hold it all together. Things are slipping away, and I don’t know what to do.” The tears start to fall again. “I don’t know what to do about anything.”
I put my hand on Phoenix’s muzzle, fingers sweeping over soft fur and rough scars. She heavily exhales, breath warming me. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. She takes a step back, and I curl my legs to my chest and cry myself to sleep, not waking until sunrise.
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