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Relief slams into me, and I send her a wide, grateful smile that makes her breath hitch, before she blinks and looks away, frowning.

“Thank you, Charlie,” I say, with genuine feeling. “And, hey, you never know, maybe we’ll manage to have some fun over the next few days.”

She stands up and dusts the seat of her pajama pants. “That depends on your definition of fun.”

“Okay,” I amend, rising as well, “maybe we’ll manage to resist pushing each other off a mountain over the next few days.”

A hint of a smile touches her lips. “That sounds more plausible. Still not guaranteed, though.”

Recalling her modification to our deal, I say, “I’ll be sure to watch my back when the cameras are off.”

Her eyes dance in the moonlight. “I did say you were smart.”

“I have to be, since apparently I’m a bad actor.”

She looks down at the ground, and I know it’s to hide her amusement. I just don’t knowwhyshe’s not allowing herself to be amused. But I have four days to figure it out, and while earlier tonight that thought filled me with dread, I’m now looking forward to it.

What I’mnotlooking forward to is being awake and ready to leave in five hours, so I gesture toward the path and say, “Do you think Ember will have stopped snoring by now?”

“If she hasn’t, she’ll get a pillow in her face.”

Her dark tone nearly makes me laugh, but my mirth turns into something softer when she asks, hesitantly, “Will you be able to fall asleep this time?”

The warm feeling from earlier intensifies. “Yeah, my mind is a lot calmer now.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”

This time I do laugh, but I stifle it fast when she glowers at me. She can’t hold the expression though, her own features still working to hide her humor.

A few hours ago, I was cursing the effect jet lag had on my body. Now I’m grateful for it. Because it led me out to this garden and to Charlie, and for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful about the future.

I wish Summer was here so I could talk to her about everything that happened today. I wish Maddox was here to tease me about fumbling my way through tonight’s conversation. I wish both of them were joining me on tomorrow’s survival trip, if only so I wouldn’t have to face the ghosts of my past alone. But I learned long ago that wishes are nothing more than wasted words, and to place hope in them only results in heartache.

“Zander?”

I jump at Charlie’s voice. “Yeah?”

She looks closely at me. “You okay?”

I cover my discomfort quickly. “Just ready to crash. You may not have heard, but I’m a high-maintenance actor and I need my beauty sleep.”

She doesn’t believe me, but goes along with it anyway. “Time for bed, then.”

Together we head back up the path to the hotel, neither of us saying anything as we part ways, both knowing we’ll see each other again in a few short hours.

And then the real acting will begin.

I’m still half asleep when Ember and I meet Zander and Gabe in the lobby at the crack of dawn and follow them into a waiting van, the few hours of restless dozing I stole after midnight doing little to ease my nerves about today.

In a way I’m glad Ember’s wake-the-dead snoring led me to the garden last night, since it was good to speak candidly to Zander. We know where we stand now, with each of us holding the cards to what the other wants: me, his career, and him, Ember’s dreams.

I haven’t told her about the deal I made, and I don’t intend to, just in case I can’t keep my side of the bargain. But I’m willing to try, since Zander wasn’t lying about the doors he could open for her. It’s worth putting up with him for a few days, especially since, as much as I loathe to admit it, he’s not entirely awful to be around.

I’d hoped he would be a troll. A miserable ogre who offered smiles when on camera but was haughty and vain in person. He’s... not. But I don’t want to think about what he is—how he gave Ember the best day of her life yesterday, how he didn’t lose patience with me no matter how intolerable I was, how he was kind and compassionate and even funny—because if I do, then I might forget what he’s done. I might forget why I hate him.

Deep down, I know I’m being irrational. But irrationality isn’t something I can simply wish away. Nor can I wish Zander away—as much as I might want to.

“We’re nearly there.”