Текст книги "Never Say Never"
Автор книги: Emily Goodwin
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Chapter 12
Aiden left soon after we let the horses out. His manager kept calling, and he kept declining the calls. After the fifth one, he grumbled and answered, then told me had to leave for a conference call and something about being the new face of some designer brand. He kissed me goodbye before getting in the car, and it was the same knee-buckling, panty-melting kiss from before.
Now I’m in the barn, cleaning stalls and feeling a little love-struck. I remind myself that this isn’t going to last. Aiden told me more than once he’s bored between scenes. He needs something to do, and someone to fill his time. And though he doesn’t say it, I can tell he doesn’t like being alone. He’s hard to read, and knowing he’s a damn good actor makes it even harder. It would be easy for him to fake anything.
One minute he’s deep and emotional—poetic, even. Then he’s cocky and knows he’s hot shit.
“It shouldn’t matter,” I tell Phoenix. She’s standing in the back of her stall with her head down. The muscles in her face are tight and her lips are pressed together, flattening her chin. She’s in pain. I set the pitchfork down and leave Sundance’s stall to go in with her.
Her ears, which are lowered, twitch ever so slightly when I slide the stall door open. She doesn’t turn her head to look at me. The little bit of happiness I had felt slips away.
“Hey, girl,” I say and slowly move closer. Her grain hasn’t been touched, which means she hasn’t gotten any of her pain medicine that was crushed up and hidden in applesauce. “Are you hungry, sweet pea?” I ask. Maybe the pills, though mixed in, turned her off. I quickly go to the feed bins and scoop more grain into a clean bucket. I set it down and step away.
Nothing.
She shows no interest. Then I notice her water is still full…and I didn’t have to fill it this morning. My stomach twists. I finish cleaning stalls, peeking at Phoenix in hopes I’d see her nibbling at her grain. But she’s still standing in the back of her stall, looking so miserable it breaks my heart.
I mix up another meal for the foal and pour it in a bucket, hanging it in the stall. She comes over and sniffs at it, then takes a drink. Thank God. I smile.
“There you go, baby. It’s the same as the bottle, and you can have as much as you want, anytime you want.” She takes another drink then comes to nuzzle me, wiping milk all over my shirt. I wrap my arms around her. “You’re going to be okay, aren’t you, baby?” I take her out in a small paddock and watch her run and prance. How anyone could throw away such a beautiful life is beyond me. The world is filled with horrible people. That is one of the many reasons I love horses so much, and not everyone gets that.
Horses don’t judge. They don’t hate, don’t discriminate. They don’t spend their lives holding grudges and trying to outdo one another. Why can’t people be more like that?
I go back into the barn to check on Phoenix. She’s still standing there, still not eating. I run inside and bring back the bottle of maple syrup from breakfast. I pour some on her grain and slide the dish over. She lowers her head. Yes, please eat! Her nostrils flare as she inhales. I hold my breath and watch, mentally begging her to eat. She raises her head, crushing me. Then she lowers it again and nibbles at the syrup before digging in.
I’m still worried. She needs to eat a protein-rich diet in order to heal, and she’s just picking at her hay and grain. Maybe it’s because of the pain? It’s a cycle, then—not eating because of the pain, and not getting pain meds because she’s not eating. I go into the tack room to call Dr. Wells and see I have a text message from Lori.
Lori: OMFG look at Aiden’s Insty NOW!!!!
Great. Did he post that horrible photo? Part of me is frantic to see it, but part of me doesn’t even want to know. Ignorance is bliss, right? I already follow him on Instagram; he posts a lot of shirtless pictures of himself. Call me shallow, but I like to look at them. Lori even photoshopped me into one as a joke once and posted it on Facebook.
Oh, God. I never thought I’d be—what were we? Just friends—a love interest, perhaps—with Aiden. Never, ever. I still don’t believe it. The only thing making this all seem real is knowing my heart is likely to get broken in the end.
I bite my lip and log into Instagram. I have to scroll through a few other posts before I see it, see the picture of Aiden and me standing next to the foal. My hair is up in a messy ponytail. I’m holding the bottle with one hand, and the other is around the foal. I’m turned toward Aiden, a slight smile on my face. I scrutinize myself right away. My eyes are narrowed a bit, and my skin is uneven. My hair is a mess, and the sweatshirt doesn’t show any figure.
Aiden looks perfect, of course, and the baby horse is adorable. I look at myself again and realize I look happy. His snide comment worked, and I’m staring at him, our eyes locked, like we’re more than just friends. Then I read the caption.
So, I met someone. Someone pretty damn incredible, someone who will sacrifice her sleep and sanity to help the helpless, to give second chances to those deemed hopeless, those who others have already given up on. And this, folks, is what true beauty looks like. #BeTheChange #NurseMareFoals #SecondChances
I look up, blinking, then read the caption again. And again. And again. No, I’m dreaming. I black out my screen and step out of the tack room. No fucking way. I unlock the phone and log back on to Instagram. Yep, that’s really me looking lovingly into Aiden’s eyes, and him looking back at me just the same. And those are really his words typed under the image, and those thousands of likes and comments are really there.
I know right away that I shouldn’t read them. I can only imagine the mean things his fangirls would say, and reading that I’m fat and ugly isn’t something I want to do. Not now, not ever. But I can’t stop myself, and I press Load more comments, as if something is controlling me. There are a few broken hearts and crying emojis in response to Aiden’s words, “So I met someone”, since it comes off as more than I’m letting myself believe. But more than anything, there is an overwhelming amount of supportive comments, and I see several people talking about nurse mare foals, saying they hadn’t heard of it before but looked it up. Some even ask how they can help.
I smile and suddenly feel so small. It’s crazy how big of a response Aiden can get from a picture he posted fifty-three minutes ago. Having that kind of platform could raise so much awareness. And it might be even crazier to know that many people are looking at me right now, judging me like I’ve judged the random girls in Aiden’s prior posts for no reason at all.
It’s too much to think about. I set the phone down and pick up a rake, then remember the whole reason I got my phone was to call the vet. I’m shaken from the social media reverie, landing hard into the real world. Likes and comments aren’t going to make Phoenix eat. I call and leave a message for Dr. Wells, then crush up another pain pill and mix it with sweet feed and syrup, but that doesn’t fool Phoenix. I sigh and go inside. I have to pee and need to shower. Sleep would be nice, but with the foal needing to be fed soon, and the acidic ball of worry over Phoenix eating away at my stomach, I know that’s not possible.
I lay the bills out on the counter and hang my head at the end of the day. I refuse to cry over money. There has to be a way to cut costs somewhere. The cable…yeah, that can go. I don’t have much time to watch TV anyway, and I’ll have Lori DVR anything I’m dying to see (like when Shadowland starts up again next year). I need the Internet for work, and let’s be real—who can function without it anymore? I could turn off the air. It is hot, but I could manage. I’m at work most of the week, and Chrissy can stay in the barn where it’s cooler from the shade of the trees surrounding it. I’d have to cut down on long, hot showers too. Now I know why Mom always bitched about me taking twenty-minute showers.
The little bit I had set aside for groceries was gone. After talking to Dr. Wells about Phoenix not eating, I drove up to town and into the clinic to get a vial of injectable medication. She gave it to me at cost and it still hurt.
I get up and dump a box of macaroni into a pan of boiling water. I’m almost out of milk, and for a second I consider using a pinch of the foal’s formula. I sigh. Even if that weren’t gross, I couldn’t take it away from her. I sit back down and stare at the impossible numbers in front of me. Frustration builds inside, and it takes everything I have not to crumble up the bills and throw them across the room.
My phone rings, and I snap my head around, anger leaving me. Aiden said he would call, though I didn’t really expect him to…but at the same time I thought me might. He was messing with my head in the worst way. And my heart—don’t even get me started on that.
It’s Lori again. Oh, right. I was supposed to call her hours ago.
“Hey, lady,” I say when I answer.
“Oh my God,” she starts. “You hate me, don’t you? You fucking hate me.”
I laughed. “Completely despise you, actually.”
“I knew it. Now that that’s out of the way…spill! Unless he’s still there. Oh my God, is he?”
I laughed again. “No, he’s gone.”
“You’re killing me.”
I sit on a barstool and look out at the barn. I can see Phoenix from here; she’s still in the back of her stall, head down and unmoving. My stomach twists. “Well, I totally and completely ruined dinner.”
“How so?”
I tap my nails on the counter. I hadn’t told anyone about the flashbacks until last night. And telling Aiden seemed safe somehow. Deep down I knew he would leave and take my secrets with him. He isn’t going to pester me and tell me I need to start taking medication again or sit in a leather chair and tell a shrink my problems. My therapy can be done in a leather saddle instead…if I ever find it in me to ride again.
“I had a breakdown about Mom,” I say, and I feel like I’m lying, even though it’s the truth. “I started crying, and he was totally patient and kind.”
“Skip to the part where he spent the night.”
“We didn’t have sex,” I tell her. “The foal totally cock-blocked him.”
Lori laughs. “Wait. That baby needs feeding every few hours. So he stayed and took care of a baby horse with you and didn’t try to get in your pants? Holy fuck, he is perfect, Haley. If you don’t want him, throw him this way!”
“What about Kit?”
“Meh,” she says, and I know she doesn’t mean it. She loves that man. “That picture was the cutest thing ever.”
“I look horrible.”
“You really don’t. Then what happened?”
My lips curve into a smile. “I fell asleep and woke up to him bottle-feeding the foal. She was snuggling on his lap, and it might have melted my heart. Then we came inside, I made breakfast, and we went back to the barn. And…” I draw out. “He kissed me.”
“Ah! Yes! How was it?”
“It was really good. He’s a good kisser, which makes sense since he does a lot of kissing on screen.”
“You know I’m totally jealous. I always said he was my celebrity husband.”
The foal whinnies from the small paddock. I get up to check on the macaroni; I have a few minutes. I step into my boots and let Chrissy out.
“So?” Lori asks. “Are you going to see him again?”
“He said he’ll call me, but I’m not going to hold my breath. I’m not really his type.”
“I’m glad you said it,” she says quickly. “And I mean no offense. You’re a total catch and you know I’d date you if I didn’t like peen so much. But, he’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Don’t forget that.”
“I know. And I know I’m most likely his entertainment while he’s bored between scenes on the movie.”
“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it lasts, ya know?”
I cross the yard, stopping outside the paddock. The foal skips over, excited for some company. “Yeah. I kind of thought the same thing.”
“Enjoy him for me, and let me know if he calls you.”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, girl.”
I hang up, stick the phone in my pocket, and rub the foal’s head. In life, things can change, things can end, things can die in an instant. Maybe that’s the secret. Maybe that’s the key to being happy again. Take life for what it is, live in the moment, and enjoy something while it lasts.
Chapter 13
I lie in bed, feeling twitchy and restless. Haley’s been on my mind, distracting me from the Skype meeting with my agent, and then my manager. I sent Claire to get me food and something to drink. I ate in silence in my room, unable to stop thinking about the tears running down Haley’s face or the horrid scars on Phoenix.
I can imagine almost any situation and then make myself feel the emotions that go along with it. That’s acting in a nutshell. Being trapped in a burning barn, smelling the smoke and feeling the painful heat…it was terrifying. What I couldn’t imagine—well, I could but didn’t want to—was the guilt she must feel. Haley lived and her mother didn’t.
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 into 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 11:00 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.”
She laughs. “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.”
