“A few days. It’s a quick trip, reshoots I think. You can stay in the house while I’m gone if you want, or you can go home. It’s your call. Hell, you can bring your mom and Dani over here.”
“Chase, I just don’t know if?—”
“I’ll give you whatever privacy you need, Renate. I just want to make sure you’re safe and they can’t get to you for a few days. Give you room to breathe and adjust. Hell, I’ll sleep in the den and you can take the bed with the dogs so I don’t keep waking you up for a taste of your?—”
“Okay! Okay. Not to you sleeping in the den. I’ll come over. Dani can pack some things for me. I’ll drive straight to your place after work. I gotta go, but I’ll call you before I leave, okay?”
“Perfect. Just like you. It will get better, Sunshine. I promise.”
CHAPTER27
GOSSIP
MÅNESKIN, TOM MORELLO
I’m havingtrouble getting into character for the first time in my career. The worst part? It’s a character I’ve been playing for five years. I know this character inside and out, and yet, I can’t find his voice because I can’t stop dwelling on Ren. I’m not picturing her naked or what she does to me. I’ve imagined that a million times over and it never held me back. Instead, I keep picturing her in Cassie’s place. The paparazzi breaking her down, the stress of my lifestyle being too much for her. All the nightmarish images of the last time I saw Cassie flood my mind and in every single one, it’s Ren’s face in place of Cassie’s. I blink those away and a new wave crashes into me. The fights, the crying, all the horrible things keep coming back.
Work, home, anywhere I am, those memories have me tense and lashing out. I’m supposed to support her right now. Instead, I’m acting like a fucking dick.
I excuse myself from the table read and step outside, pulling up my therapist’s number. It rings. It rings again. I swear under my breath when it rings the third time.
“Morning Chase. How are you doing?”
“Fucking bad, man. You got time?”
“Absolutely. Do you want me to come to you or?”
“Nah, I’m gonna get myself out of this read and come to you. Be there in fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll be ready. Hopefully.”
I need the stability and structure of his office right now, so I’m glad he has time and doesn’t need to do this by phone. I talk to the PA and the director, promising I’ll be back tomorrow and that I’m having an off day. They pull in my stunt guy to read my lines for me; he’ll crush it. He’s a badass like that. Like I’m supposed to be.
I’m numb as I make the blur of a drive to Dr. Clay’s office. I’ve made so much progress over the last few months, this feels like a side swipe from a semi truck. I hoped this relationship could help me get through some of this pent up shit, but I also understand it’s a relationship, not a crutch or a fix-all. Ren has been more than understanding, and the release I’m getting from the sex and the role play? Downright therapeutic.
I could handle this better if the gossip magazines were all I had to worry about. But I found another envelope on my windshield after catching some paparazzi loitering outside my house. That sent me all the way back to square one.
“So, what happened?” he asks as I walk in, heading straight for the couch. “Where’s Pongo?”
“He’s at home. The crew scheduled explosives testing today, so I didn’t want him getting spooked.” I flop down onto the couch so hard I worry it will break, and when it doesn’t, I cover my face and let my breathing take over until I can tell him more. He’s a patient man, which comes with the job. But I’m sure minutes turning into money as they tick by helps.
Fuck, I never think of Theo like that.
I uncover my eyes, finding him looming over me with a look that says he understands.
“I’m fucking up so bad.”
“You looked like you were both handling it brilliantly at the event. I saw the pictures.”
“The event? Yeah. Fuck that thing, that’s a whole different therapy session. One where I vent and fucking break things.”
“It’s one way to complete the cycle. So, what are you here to talk about?”
I pull my phone out and slide it across the table as he takes his seat again and flips through the photos. “That’s her front lawn. Look at those fucking parasites. The rest are of the school or taken by the professional dickheads in the middle of the fray. They had the fucking audacity to send me these! Told me I could pay for them if I wanted. It’s like they’re taunting me at this point.” I run my hand through my hair, wishing I had a hair tie with me. “Nothing in these qualifies as print worthy! They’re just harassing us for shits and giggles.”
“They want to get under your skin because a celebrity meltdown nets them serious money for them. If the mundane sets you off, imagine how you’re going to react when they catch her sunbathing in the backyard. You’ve already done this dance.”
“I hoped we had more time before they dug up her identity. That’s partially my fault. She’s a teacher, not a ninja. That comes with too many variables: students, parents, and other teachers. Any of them can tip off a pap, or take a few pictures themselves and sell them. Hell, I met her at the school and the paps were there that night, too.”
