A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) (29 page)

I flip over the card. “Um…yeah, he’s right.”

“Aw yeah,” says Zach. “Kyra, you are going
down.”

“Oh come on,” she says. “You know how much time we spend studying all this stuff in college? It’s totally what our courses are about.”

“Wouldn’t know,” says Zach.

“Ditto,” I add. “Veronica never went to college.”

“Can you imagine how pink her dorm room would be?” says Zach.

“What, like my room is now?” I shoot back.

“Would they have made you keep wearing the pigtails?” Kyra asks.

“You mean let me wear the pigtails?” I joke.

Devon shuts his eyes and shakes his head. I smile at him again, and this time, he smiles back. He fits in here, with us.
Please
, I think,
please notice and want to make this a regular part of your life.

We play the game, moving our pieces around the board and filling the slots with the little colored pie shapes. Kyra and I win because, despite what she says about college not being relevant, she’s the most well-read person in the room by far.

It’s nearly eleven when we finish, and I should be exhausted, but I’m not. Rather, I’m abuzz, dreading the moment that Devon gets up to leave. We pack away the game board and Kyra and Zach begin their retreat for the night.

In a desperate attempt to forestall Devon’s departure, I go to the bathroom, hoping and praying he won’t leave until I’m out. I stay in until I hear Kyra and Zach go into her room, and only then do I wash my hands and face the door.

Please
, I think as I put my hand on the knob.
Please still be there.

I open the door and step out. Devon’s seated on the couch, but at the sight of me, he gets to his feet.

Don’t leave
, I think.

“We should talk,” he says.

T
HE APARTMENT IS
silent, and the only light is from a lamp on the end table. I suppose it could be romantic, but I feel like I’m being led to my execution.

“Okay.” I force myself to walk across the room, past the chair, all the way to the couch. It’s my apartment and the couch isn’t that small, so I can sit here without being rude. We’ve shared a couch before.

Devon sits down next to me, a good two feet of space between us.

I pull my knees up to my chin and wait for him to talk.

“About…what you said before you left,” he begins.

“That I love you?”

He shuts his eyes a moment. “That, and wanting us to be together.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Thank you. It’s more than I deserve.”

I sense that there’s a “but” coming.

“Here’s the thing,” he goes on. “I’m moving back to Montana—for real this time.”

“And Rachel?”

He nods, and my heart breaks on the spot. It hurts like my sternum is splitting in half and I can barely breathe.

“You’ve got so much going for you, Lizzie,” he says. “You don’t need me, and the truth is, I’ve got to get back to my life.”

“This hasn’t been your life, here?”

“I’ve been running from my life since my sister died. Just…trying to escape the memories and the pain, but Montana’s where I belong. It’s home, and Rachel’s the one. She always has been. Everyone else has just been a distraction.”

I hold back tears by sheer force of will. I’ve cried enough for a lifetime in the last week, or so it seems.

“So that’s all I was? A distraction?”

“Lizzie, you’re amazing, all right? Any guy would be lucky to have you, but there’s no chance you and I would ever work. It’s just not meant to be. You’re a teenager. I’m twenty-six, and my soul mate is in Montana, with two kids who need a real dad.”

The pain in my chest gets sharper. This moment is the worst moment of my life, worse than almost losing my mother, or hearing about the bad ratings for my show, or learning that Mackenzie died, or talking to all the parents of fans who’ve passed on. Which feels out of proportion, all things considered, but I guess this is love.

I cannot think of a single thing to say. “I’ll miss you” is trite. “Keep in touch” is a lie. The moment he walks out this door, I’m going to put all my energy into forgetting him, because I have to. If I don’t, I’ll hurt like this forever.

He leans forward, halfway out of his seat already. “So anyway…”

“Wait,” I say. “Just wait a minute.”

I get up and go to my room, where I grab the folder Cleo left for me while I was gone. Kyra mentioned it during my sob-filled call to her. This was what I asked Cleo to get for me from my storage unit, my nuclear option. I stupidly thought this might win Devon’s heart, but now I know that won’t happen. I need to give it to him, though, because it’s his.

When I emerge into the front room again, Devon’s on his feet, looking wary.

“Here.” I hold out the folder to him.

He takes it, looks at me, and slowly opens it to reveal the sheet of paper inside. A child’s handwriting in pink marker is all I can see from this angle.

“Mackenzie’s letter to me,” I say. “You said you had to bury everything else with her so…you should have that.”

His gaze snaps back to my face, his eyes wide with shock. “You still have this?”

“Now you have it. So…um…goodbye.”

He closes the folder and looks at me like I just handed him a million dollars that he knows he doesn’t deserve. Even though he does deserve a memento of his sister.

I can’t take the suspense anymore. This just needs to be over so I can cry my eyes out and deal. “Have a nice life, okay?”

“Thanks. You too.” He takes the hint and strides over to the front door, where I let him out and shut it behind him.

Kyra’s door opens, and I expect to hear her gentle voice tell me that it’s all for the best. Instead, a strong pair of arms wraps around me. Zach’s.

“Girl,” says Kyra. “I’m so sorry.”

“Was this your plan?” I ask her between sobs. “Was this your way of showing me it really wouldn’t work?”

She shrugs uneasily and doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

“Lizard, what do you need?” Zach asks.

Part of me wants to curl up on the couch in Zach’s arms, but my rational mind points out that this won’t fly. A hug is a lot from a guy who’s got a girlfriend. That’s just the way the world works, and someday, I’ll feel the same way when I’ve got a boyfriend. Besides, for the first time in forever, I really don’t want Zach. He’d be a substitute and nothing more.

I look over at Kyra and fight the urge to yell at her. This is not her fault in any way. She gave me something I’ve wanted for quite a while, a clean, final break from Devon. “Can I have a Pie Pop?”

She nods solemnly. “We’ll all have Pie Pops. No arguing,” she tells Zach.

It’s not as nice as cuddling up with Devon and hearing him say that he loves me, but it’s closer than I would have ever expected. I knew I’ve led a lonely life, but I never realized how lonely until this moment, when two friends to share ice cream with feels like a wonderfully large crowd.

“For what it’s worth,” says Kyra, “I do get why you like him. He can be really nice.”

I don’t bother to answer that. I just keep eating my Pie Pop.

The next morning, I’m still drained. I have nothing left, but I still have a job to do, so I wash my face, take a deep breath, and force myself into gear.

“We are one week ahead of the broadcast schedule,” the director announces when I arrive on set. “We can’t afford any delays, so let’s do this.”

Kevin is over by makeup, and I nod to him as I go climb into my chair. Much to my surprise, he turns.

“Hey. How are you?”

“Fine,” is the answer I reserve for people I want to be polite to, and I’m too wrung out for that. Instead, I say, “I’ll live.”

He comes over to stand next to me. “And you’re back at work.”

“I’m not even sure I should have left.”

“Lizzie, ease up, okay? You’re too hard on yourself.”

I can’t turn my face while my makeup artist is putting on my eyeliner, so I just turn my eyes in his direction. “You ready to make out?”

“Ye-ah…”

At least we can laugh about this. “Look, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Sorry that you’re such a fetching, young hottie?”

“Sorry that the scripts are so uncreative. And hey, this is your fault too.” He is attractive, even if he’s not my type.

He chuckles. “I have never seen anyone work as hard as you.”

“Welcome to Hollywood.”

“No, I think, even for Hollywood, you’re extreme.” It’s not entirely a compliment, but it isn’t an insult either. “I’ll go brush my teeth…again,” he says as he walks away.

“Jess, you will learn to appreciate me,” Kevin says as he pivots on his mark.

“And you’ll learn to stop pushing me around,” I reply. I put as much emotion into it as I can, but my body’s still jet-lagged and exhausted, and I feel like I’m phoning it in.

He lunges at me and we kiss—not a passionate, real kiss, but a lip lock with some head bobbing that simulates a passionate kiss, and he muscles me down.

“And cut,” says the director.

He lets me go at once. “Just so you know,” he says, “I am not okay with this dialogue or scene.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Not sure how this’ll play to women. Should I hate it? I’m too tired to even know.”

“I will, if you want, take off and refuse to shoot any more of this. I’ll be the bad guy, since I already am.”

This is no small offer. “No,” I say. “We’re under the gun, and we just have to do this.”

“It’s not right. This shouldn’t be sexy.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’m sure I’m not making it look the least bit sexy.”

He shakes his head. “Say the word, and I’m gone. I already screwed up once, so I can be the whipping boy.”

“I ditched the show too.”

“That isn’t the same and you know it.”

I actually feel sorry for him. He had the producers eating out of his hand before he pushed things too far.