Page 97 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

My bottom lip quivered ominously. “Thanks, but you know what I mean. My world is small, and I thought I liked it that way. I wonder if I’ve been hiding, though.”

“From what?”

“Life. Getting hurt.”

“Oh, honey. Getting hurt, failing, falling…those things are bound to happen. Getting up is the tough part. Trying again and again and again. Maybe you’ve been cautious, but you’ve never given up. Your grandmother died, your family let you down, your boyfriend left you…you stood back up, straightened your spine, and you kept going.” Bran squeezed my hand. “You are strong, Lo. You are mighty. You don’t need to be anyone other than who you are.”

I smiled at his fierce expression and leaned into his side. “Thank you, Bran.”

“Don’t you give up. Don’t you ever give up. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

I wasn’t sure that made me feel any better, but he was right.

In the meantime, I had to learn to let go.

Again.

17

PIERCE

“Quiet on the set. Action in five, four…”

I bit the inside of my cheek and willed my mind to clear.

Hal held up his fingers, silently counting down to one.

I moved into the frame, back to the wall, gun cocked and ready. The fake bead of sweat on my brow supposedly signaled fear. Baxter was a tough dude and a cool customer, but part of what made him so irresistible was his not-so-hidden softer side. He got nervous when he cared too much and apparently, he cared about the woman conversing with a spy. She was in danger and she didn’t know it. Baxter had to get her out of that office in one piece.

I inched closer and awaited my cue.

The scene called for a stunt double to swoop in and knock the guy silly. Then I’d step in, take her in my arms, touch my forehead to hers, and let the camera folks film some chemistry. I just had to act like I cared about her well-being. That shouldn’t have been so hard to do, but I felt the divide between myself and my character in a way I never had. Baxter excelled at rescuing people and giving a shit about the greater good.

Me?

I wasn’t doing very well. Don’t get me wrong, I was a good actor and I knew my character’s every nuance, but the second a scene wrapped, I was just…lost.

Like now.

I nailed my entrance, got out of the frame to give the stuntman time to jump in, then crouched low and cradled Kate’s face between my hands, pressing our foreheads close.

“Are you okay?” I panted, tuning out the camera hovering eighteen inches away.

“Yes, I’m—who was that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Someone who’s gonna wish they hadn’t fucked with me,” I growled.

“And cut! That was fucking art. Well done,” Hal enthused. “Take fifteen. We’ll do the trailer scene next. We might not need a redo in Toronto.”

I helped Kate to her feet, regretfully declining her offer to grab a coffee before moving offstage and immediately bumping into Seb.

“Bravo. I can’t believe that was rehearsal. You looked like you really wanted to tear someone’s head off on the last line. I got shivers.” Seb gave an all-over shake and flashed a megawatt grin my way.

I rolled my eyes and uncapped the water bottle I’d left on my chair. “Thanks. You staying for the next scene?”

“No, I’m going to Trent’s show. It opens at the Pasadena Playhouse tonight. Wanna come?”

“No, thanks.”