“It doesn’t have to be—”
“Yes, it does!” She clenches her hands into fists by her sides and blows out a deep breath while staring at me. “Who are you trying to kid? Do you really think we can go back to pretending like we can attend each other’s formal events together like nobody would question it? Men and women can’t be friends in your industry without everyone picking them apart. You may be used to that lifestyle, but I’m not. And you damn well know that we’re not just friends. Once upon a time we were, but we’ll never get that back.”
I step toward her, running my palms down my thighs. “If that’s what you want, we can make it work. We promised each other the Oscars and RITA Awards, remember? I do. You’d wear a long black dress with a slit up the leg and matching flats because heels make you too unsteady. I’d wear a black tuxedo and a silver tie because it matches my eyes and we’d have a great time. We can be those people again.”
“I don’t want to be,” she whispers. She shakes her head and backs closer to the door. “I don’t want to remember what it was like to have my hopes up just to get hurt so badly.”
“It won’t … it’ll be different.”
“You’re right.” She looks down. “It’ll be so much worse next time. You want to know why Beck chose Ian? Why she let him put a ring on her finger instead of Ryker? It’s simple. We settle because we’re afraid the love that’s meant for us will destroy us completely.”
This time, I have nothing to offer her. No words, no gestures, no argument that says differently. She told me once that she loved how authors’ minds worked because they told a truth that nobody wants to hear. Life, love, everything can shatter you in an instant, but writers find a way to make it sound like the perfect way to go.
When she all but bolts out of my trailer, I realize one thing is for certain. If nothing had changed before, everything has now. Any shred of hope to rekindle a friendship with the girl I once considered the only special person in my life, is long gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Kinley / Present
My tired eyes burn the longer I go through the notes littering my manuscript in front of me. The red ink is everywhere, circling words, and crossing out sentences. The slightest tension in the back of my neck has me dropping my pen onto the bed and massaging the base of my skull.
Sliding off the mattress, I go to my purse and dig through it until the bottle I’m looking for is in my hand. When I see it’s empty, I groan and look at the time on the alarm clock by the bed.
Considering where I am, there’s no doubt I could find a store to buy medicine this time of night. Anything to ease the pain quickly forming in my temples.
Trying to Google places in walking distance has me more confused than anything, so I slip into the clothes I wore today and walk downstairs to the front desk.
The older gentleman working the night shift looks up from the computer and smiles at me. “Ms. Thomas. How can I help you?”
I grip my purse and note his nametag. “Is there a drugstore nearby that sells Motrin, Matt? Or a convenience store I can walk to?”
He hesitates before standing straighter. “I would suggest not walking anywhere this time of night on your own. However, I can call a car or even get someone to fetch the medication for you.”
I blink. What? “No, that’s okay. I can get it myself. If you can just give me an address or tell me how to get there…”
He nods once and clicks a few times on the computer before jotting an address down on hotel stationary. “If I may, there is another option to get there that’s safer.”
Before he can say what it is, someone calls my name. The man behind the desk nods once with a faint smile on his face as he turns back to whatever he was working on before I came down.
“What are you doing here?” My greeting isn’t friendly, but it could be ruder given our present company.
Corbin stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I was trying to gather the courage to talk to you. To be honest, I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Good,” slips out before I can stop it.
I begin walking toward the double doors, tightening the jacket around me now that the mid-summer sun has set. Not so surprisingly, Corbin follows close behind me until we stop outside the hotel.
“You can’t just go out on your own.”
I turn. “Excuse me?”
He sighs. “Don’t be like that. You know it isn’t smart to walk around by yourself in a city like this. Plus, you don’t know where you’re going, do you?”
“And you do?”
“I’ve lived around here longer.”
Like I don’t know that. I scoff and start walking in a random direction, noting the semi-crowded sidewalk. People ignore me for the most part, some give me a weird look, and others bump into me without caring.
A hand grabs my wrist, which I’m about to shove away when Corbin’s scratchy voice breaks through my caution. “Stop, Little Bird.”
I whip my arm away.
He jabs behind him. “My car is parked over there. Just let me take you where you need to go, okay? It’ll be painless.”
“To you,” I mutter.
For some reason, he chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. Still, I’m not letting you wander around on your own. It’s supposed to rain too.”
My eyes go up to the slightly cloudy sky. Not wanting to take a risk, I reluctantly follow him back to the hotel. He says something to the doorman and slaps his arm with a smile before pulling out his keys and guiding me to a sleek back car parked off to the side.
“Looks expensive,” I note as he opens the passenger door for me. Sliding in, I examine the inside dash that’s covered in screens and buttons that I’m afraid to touch. He closes the door and jogs around the front.
My fingers run across the black plastic in front of me and drag down to the glove compartment. Unlatching it while he starts the car and turns out onto the street, I dig through the random papers, napkins, and sunglasses before making a face.
“Looking for something?” he muses.
The truth just sort of comes out. “I thought there’d be something interesting in here. I don’t know. Condoms, a thousand dollars, something.”
His laugh has me eying him. “You think I’d just keep a thousand dollars in my car for anyone to steal?”
I don’t answer.
“What’s in your glove compartment?” he questions, slowing as we hit lines of traffic.
I think about it, not really knowing a solid answer. I’m pretty sure the only thing in mine is the car insurance papers and maybe chapstick that’s long since melted. Once upon a time, I kept a familiar burgundy notebook in there to read through or write in if I had an idea when I was out. Now it’s in a box in my office closet with the other notebooks I’ve filled with story outlines and one-liners that I’ve used along the years. I refuse to take it out and trace the gold lettering I’ve spent a lot of time staring at since Corbin gave it to me for our first and only Christmas.
“Nothing important, I guess,” he concludes when I say nothing.
For some reason, I smile at the memory of the vehicle I rode around in with him. “You used to have such random stuff in your Jeep. The cup holders had coins filling them so our drinks never fit right, your glove compartment had fast food menus and napkins, and the little console on the side held your thirty million sunglasses.”