“Bella, I mean it. It’s fine. I’mfucking pissed, but my shoulder is fine. God, I hope that shot’s perfect.”
Bella searches my gaze again. In this moment, she shows the sharp edge that makes her so good at this.
There’s concern, but not pity. She knows I’m tough, that I can and will roll with the punches and thank her for the opportunity. She’s gauging exactly how much I’m lying, and she’s balancing the liability to the production and my chance of further injury with how bad she knows I want this.
Bella may be pissed, too.
I suddenly realize this is what I crave but will never get from my mother. Someone looking out for me who’s also willing to respect my addiction to this insane job.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, voice softening. “I really will be fine. Ice’ll help.”
Bella finally nods. “I’ll go talk to Lana. Ice and rest for a full fifteen minutes. No buts. I’m going to push her to take that shot. What’s your limit?”
“Tomorrow I could do five. Ten. Whatever.”
“Storm’s coming in tomorrow. Rig’s gotta go down tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” I sigh and test my shoulder, jaw tensing to keep from wincing. Another take will require twisting, hanging, lunging, and doing that fall again. “I’ve got one more solid run in me. If Lana wants any more footage than that, she’s going to have to give up the oner.”
Bella gives a sharp nod. “Roger. I’ll be back as soon as I have the word.”
One of the stunt crew members pulls up a chair as a production assistant brings over a disposable ice pack. I wave off the concerns of the stunt crew, but as that ice pack settles on my shoulder, it’s sweet relief. The pain radiates down the back of my arm, throbbing through my elbow and down to my fingers.
God, I am going tokillChristine.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
CHRISTINE
I gripthe steel with white knuckles to keep from throwing myself down after Mylo.
I heard “Cut,” but I haven’t moved.
What thefuckis happening?!
My breath won’t slow down.
A ghost of that moment plays behind my eyes.
Mylo slides for the door. It’s the first time I see how high we really are, double the tops of the trees. Panic grips my chest; instinct takes over; something primal and wild screams,If he falls, it’s your fault.
That pop of his shoulder, that groan of pain.
And then those calm, calculated eyes turn up at me and sayFuck you.
His wrist yanks through my grip.
I’ll never forgive myself, I’ll never forgive myself,spirals through my mind even as I remind myself,He’s alive, he’s alive.
Only once I see Mylo standing, walking, and accepting help from the stunt crew can I move. As the rig lowers, my breath finally slows. I don’t feel like I’m spinning out anymore.
But I’m tense.
I need to get to Mylo.
I just need to get to Mylo.
