Ben crouched down in front of him. “Breathe. Slow and steady. Count in for five, out for five.”
“I don’t know why this is happening,” he muttered when he could finally speak.
“I asked Chaya about it. She said it’s important to look for triggers.”
“You told Chaya?”
“She’s not going to say anything, mate. But thinking of triggers, the two times we’ve seen it happen is when you’ve been thinking about Willow and the baby. Has it happened any other time?”
Luke shook his head. “No. But there’s been a shit-ton of stress.”
“You need to speak with a therapist,” Jase said. “They’re really helpful.”
Luke looked up at Jase. “Not doing that.”
“Why not? I have one.”
Matt looked at his brother. “You do?”
Jase shrugged. “Was Cerys’s suggestion. Started talking to him in March. It helps process shit.”
Ben pulled Jase in for a hug. “That’s really big of you.”
Jase hugged him back, then stepped away. “I’ve bottled shit up for decades and it didn’t work out so well. Figured letting it out might help. It does.”
“I told you they’d support you, that it didn’t need to be a secret,” Alex said, throwing an arm over Jase’s shoulder.
“Yeah, well. Doesn’t seem like the manliest of conversations.”
Matt punched Jase’s shoulder. “Don’t be a dick. Aren’t we past the point where acceptance of therapy is gendered?”
“Fair. There’s obviously something really triggering for Luke related to having his own family.” Jase turned to face him. “You need tools and shit that are more helpful than coke and booze and women.”
With his pulse back under control, but embarrassment still coursing through him, Luke stood and gulped the water to relieve his dry mouth. “I quit those.”
“Cold fucking turkey with nothing to replace them,” Jase countered. “No wonder you’re strung out.”
“I need to convince Willow I’m serious. About her. About the baby. I don’t want her to leave in ten months.”
“I get that,” Alex said. “But I think you need to work on you, first. Otherwise, this has car crash written all over it. There’s something really bothering you.”
Luke felt anger burst through his shame. “I’ve got it under control.”
Alex pointed to the chair. “Clearly, you don’t.”
“I just need to fix it between us. When I know she’s on board with staying and—”
“Listen to yourself.” Alex stepped up into his space. “You’re trying to control your environment. When you’ve convinced Willow not to leave, you’re still going to have whatever just caused that. What if that happens in front of her? How do you explain that thinking of a future with her and a baby makes you panic? It’s bullshit.”
A knock on the door made Luke jump.
“Guys,” Parker said, popping his head around the door. “You’re needed onstage to work with the techs on kit setup, now.”
“Great,” Luke said, heading straight for the door. He wasn’t sure how he’d messed up so badly by telling them, because he’d hoped they’d help. He needed ways to convince Willow he was serious, because he was. Not therapy or ways to fix himself.
Because once everything was right between him and Willow, his world would right itself again.
And he wouldn’t feel alone.
Willow sifted through the photographs and videos she’d taken recently and analysed them with a critical eye. There were unsalvageable images. Images that needed some edits to remove shadows, or brightening, or filters.
She was aware that the videos she’d been creating about her and Luke weren’t what was trending on Shamaze. Normally, she would have created at least one new dance routine. There would be more where she’d take content from movies and create a new story using lines from the script. But instead, there was more . . .experience content. Like the night she’d gotten ready for the release party. Her bubble bath with rose petals and champagne after the incident with Cerys. The train ride with Luke where she’d curled up against his shoulder.
Her brand was shifting, and she was . . . happy. Yes, happy. Without the stress of having to keep up with what everybody else was doing, she was creating content that felt more organic. And, while it was an airbrushed portion of her life, it was more real than a dance routine.
Feeling lighthearted, she scrolled through some of the more personal images that she wanted to keep. A picture of Luke pulling a face in the hotel before they’d left for the listening party. A selfie of the two of them at the ultrasound, her mascara a little streaked with tears. Luke and the massive steak he’d ordered at The Ivy.
They were life.
But there was something more. The images where the two of them looked at each other were real. Which sounded stupid, because of course they were real. But their gazes held more than just friendship. More than just lust. There was something warm and genuine, and Willow swallowed hard. She didn’t want to believe the connection, but it was right there.
Luke had told her at the ultrasound that his views about them had changed, but she wasn’t ready to believe it. Or to trust him.
Her phone vibrated next to her.
“Riley,” Willow cried as her friend appeared on the screen. “I have missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too, babe. You should be here today.” Riley turned her phone to give her the full panorama. “It’s Jules’s birthday and her dad is throwing her this epic pool party. I slept over last night, so I’m just catching up on sleep while the caterer and florists do their thing.”
Envy filled her heart as she glanced over at the window where rain patted on the glass. “It’s raining here. Again. How can it be June and so grey outside?”
“Come home. Mom said to tell you she meant it, that you could come here to stay.”
“I wish I could. Dad is threatening some shit trying to declare me mentally incompetent and take over all of my financials. I don’t think he’s serious, and my lawyer has gotten ahead of it, we hope.”
“Oh, Will. That sucks. I mean, Darrin hasn’t always been the most levelheaded, but I didn’t think he was particularly cruel.”
Willow huffed. “He stiffed me out of the majority of my earnings for most of my life. He’s routinely put his hands on me in an aggressive way. To drag me somewhere, to get me to focus. I’m starting to see it all add up for what it was. Controlling abuse. I’m not the first child actor it’s happened to.”
Riley shrugged. “It’s not like he really abused you.”
“What?” She couldn’t believe the words from her friend.
“I just mean, he hasn’t beaten you, right?”
“What’s your definition of abuse, Riley? The number of times I’ve had bruises from a grip too hard and was then gaslit into believing I deserved it. While the weather here sucks, walking around every day knowing I’m not going to be treated that way has been a blessing.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I guess when I think of abuse, I think of deliberate physical beatings, not the shit your dad did. Anyway, show me your bump.”