Her nose twitches. “I’m not her.”
I back up, hands raising. “Aren’t you?”
Kinley is getting ready to leave when I jog over to the car she’s heading for and stop the backdoor from opening. It shouldn’t surprise me that she opted not to wait for me while I finished the final scene of the day. She's avoided me at all costs, disappeared during the lunchbreak, and barely made eye contact with me for more than two seconds.
The only time she paid me any attention was when Olivia or Buchannan was around to get her feedback on what she’d seen during the day. I could tell Liv wanted her approval of the sex scene, which Kinley undoubtedly gave us. It was the way she looked at us after Buchannan called cut that made me realize we nailed it exactly how she wanted—the softest glaze of tears, the slightest lip part. She loved it, even if she didn’t want to.
“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my palm against the side of the car so she’s not tempted to try diving into the back.
“No, we don’t.”
Sighing, I reach behind me and pull the package of Twizzlers out from my pocket that she gave back to me this morning. Holding them out to her, I watch as she stares unblinkingly at the candy.
I shake it. “They’re not poisoned. I can’t guarantee they’re not stale though since they stayed open all day. Plus, I got them from the vending machine, so who knows when the expiration is even good on them.”
Slowly, her fingers wrap around them as she draws them to her side. “You got me candy from a vending machine?”
“Would have gotten them from a store, but I didn’t have a lot of time between takes. Had someone bring them over to the hotel to deliver with dinner since you left early that day,” I answer easily, giving her a small smile.
She wets her lips. “Thanks.”
I tap the car. “So … talk?”
“We are talking.”
I all but growl. “You know damn well this isn’t the kind of conversation I’ve been waiting to have all day. In case you’ve forgotten, you gave my ego a little beat down earlier.”
“I didn’t—”
“Did you write about us?”
She blinks.
I blink back.
After a moment of awkward silence, she shifts her weight and sighs. “I didn’t write this about you. You’ve probably read the whole script, right? This story isn’t our story. We don’t have one.”
“Everyone has a story,” I argue.
“That’s not what I mean,” she mutters, her shoulders tensing. “Our past isn’t the kind of story I want publicized. I’ll always have pieces of personal experience in every book, but that doesn’t mean any of us finds its way onto a page.”
My mind backtracks to the bed. “What about the set decorations?”
No answer.
Not willing to give up, I ask, “If I searched in the wicker bins off to the side of that set, would I find a stash of candy? Comic books? Movies? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the scene we shot this morning was in a room identical to the one that we made a lot of memories in.”
“Corbin—” Her voice cracks. “Stop.”
“Why?” I throw my hands up. “Just tell me, Kinley! Is it really so hard to admit that you wrote your bedroom into that book? That you channeled something about us into those characters? I heard what Olivia said.”
Her eyes stare holes into the pavement under her strappy heeled sandals. Bright blue nail polish peeks out from the ends, which makes me shake my head. She always insisted on wearing neon colors. Blue was her favorite, but it couldn’t be any other shade than the one currently greeting my gaze.
“You don’t understand how much it hurts,” she finally tells me, meeting my eyes with a distance in hers that caves my chest. “I don’t want to think about the past. There’s a lot I’m proud of and wouldn’t change, but there’s also stuff that hurts too much to think about for long. You can probably guess which is which.”
My jaw ticks. “We both had dreams, Kinley. You told me you’d support me no matter what it took.”
“I meant it.”
“So why do you hate me?”
“I don’t—”
I hit the car with my closed fist, leaving the tiniest dent in the top. Kinley steps back and stares at the blemish, before her eyes ever so slowly meet mine again.
Taking a deep breath, I shove both hands into my pockets that way she won’t see them shaking. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t know you were upset with my decision to leave back then, but I thought you understood how much I wanted this life.”
Her jaw tightens. “And I thought you knew how much I expected you to come back like you promised. Remember? You said ‘I’m coming back for you, Kinley. Trust me.’ I was stupid enough to believe it, Corbin. Do you know how pathetic I looked waiting for a phone call? A text? An email? Anything?
“My mom kept telling me to try distracting myself because I’d waste all my time focusing on when you were going to reach out or show up. Weeks went by. Months. After a while, I finally listened to her. I channeled everything I had into my books, choosing to build a fictional world where nobody could hurt me like you did. I was in control for the first time. I got to decide what happened instead of being suspended in time until some teenage guy that my brother warned me away from made good on his promise.”
My hands go to my hair, weaving through the gelled-up strands that hair and makeup put in earlier for the last scene. I know a losing battle when I see it, and Kinley is about to sink the last battleship I have. Opening my mouth would make me sink faster, and I’m not ready to drown.
“Thinking about you, seeing you, causes me the worst kind of pain,” she finishes, grabbing ahold of the door handle. “I tried getting my agent to make them cast someone else, just to let you know. Or to pull the project. My agent told me I was being stupid. ‘Corbin Callum will make this movie a box office success.’ I had to put aside my pride for you again when my pride should have always come first.”
I close my eyes and palm them with the heels of my hands. “Kinley … shit.”
“You…” Her voice breaks. “I hate how much you bring Ryker to life, but you do. You’re perfect for him. That’s probably the worst part of this whole experience.”
My hands fall to my sides. “Seeing me as the leading role?”
She shakes her head. “Having to share this dream with you when I swore to myself that you’d be nothing but a distant memory for good.”
Fuck that hurt. Bad. But knowing I deserve nothing less, I stand back while she opens the car door and closes it behind her. The glass isn’t as tinted as my car, so I can see her stare at me with eyes void of emotion. They’re nothing but empty brown pits, with my reflection in the middle falling into an endless abyss.
When the car pulls away, I find myself standing in the middle of the lot looking like the biggest dumbass on the planet because I let her go. Again.
But did I really have a choice this time?
She doesn’t know what her brother told me shortly after I came back to visit my family. He painted a vivid picture of what he’d do if I reached out to her before she was ready, but I thought he was messing around. Until his fist met my jaw and nearly broke the fucking thing. When my mother confirmed that Kinley was the shell of a girl I’d introduced her to the first time, I knew I fucked up.