Page 37 of Lights, Camera, Love

‘I didn’t have a choice when it came to getting to know my parents,’ I confide after a while.

‘I wasn’t allowed to visit my mum in jail before she OD’d in there, and I never even met my dad.

He took off before I was born. My mother once said he was a deadbeat and not worth knowing, but I really have no idea what he was like. Apparently, his name was Brayden.’

Evie’s hand stills my fingers, and I realise I’ve been playing with the brown leather strap circling my wrist.

‘Where’s this from?’ she asks. ‘You’re always wearing it.’

My throat contracts. ‘My brother made it. When we were living in different cities as foster kids, he sent it to me in the mail. I was nearly fourteen then, so he must’ve been around seven or eight at the time.’

‘Kye.’ Surprise edges Evie’s soft voice. ‘That’s amazing. How special. And you’re still wearing it?’

‘Yeah.’

I can’t get out any more words. After Jace sent me the bracelet, we kept writing to each other now and then, and having the occasional phone call; our contact only ceased when I stopped responding.

Mike urged me to keep in touch with my brother, but I was just a kid, running as fast and far as I could from my abusive past, and everything and everyone connected to it.

I was desperately trying to cling to things that felt safe and normal, and every mention of Jace’s name threw me right back into the trauma pit.

As for Jace, I don’t know why he didn’t push harder to stay in contact after I stopped writing.

Maybe he was hurt that his older brother hadn’t made more of an effort to be there for him.

Or maybe he had his own demons—apparently, he was beaten within an inch of his life in his first foster home after he left the Reynolds’ and almost starved to death in the second.

I don’t even know why I’ve kept wearing the bracelet for all these years. Maybe it’s been a way to keep Jace in my life without having to confront those old wounds.

‘I’m thinking of making contact with him,’ I murmur, nerves filling my stomach.

Evie’s brows lift. ‘Yeah?’

‘I’m scared that he won’t want to speak to me or that he hates me because I let us grow apart. But here we are, living in the same city now. Even if he’s behind bars, he’s alive; he’s here. If there’s a chance for a … a relationship there, shouldn’t I at least try?’

Her face softens. ‘It’s obviously up to you, but I think that, if there is a chance, then … yes, maybe you should try.’

I want to tell her that maybe she should try with her father, too, but her situation differs wildly from mine.

If anything, Evie is in Jace’s position, and Gabriel Dean is more like me.

Gabriel and I are the ones who made life-changing mistakes, who now have to decide whether we’re brave enough to try to make them right.

I need to wrench my mind off this topic, so I cradle Evie’s jaw in my hand and bring her face so near to mine that she becomes nothing more than a pair of lake-blue eyes.

It should be awkward as hell, staring at someone this closely, yet, as Evie and I gaze right into each other’s souls, all I feel is calm. Soothed. Quiet.

‘What are you doing to me?’ I say in a rasping voice, lowering my lips to hers.

My phone blasts from the bedside table.

Evie smiles against my mouth. ‘Answer it, if you need.’

I break apart from her to reach for the phone, and my stomach plummets. ‘It’s Austin.’

She falls silent, watching me as I stare at the screen. I don’t know if I should answer, but he might not call back, and it’ll stop ringing any second now, and—

I press the phone to my ear. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey …’ Austin pauses. ‘Thought you weren’t gonna pick up.’ Already, he sounds annoyed with me.

‘Where are you?’ I mutter, sitting up.

‘In an Uber, heading home. I flew back this morning. You didn’t get my text?’

I bristle at his assumption that all I do is sit by the phone, waiting to hear from him. ‘No.’

After a beat of awkward silence, he says, ‘You at home?’ The question jolts me. I clasp my hand over my abdomen; the bare skin beneath my fingers reminds me that I’m naked. With Evie.

‘I’m not, but I’ll be there soon.’ I catch the flicker of disappointment in Evie’s face when the words reach her ears.

‘Sweet. I’ll see you soon, bro,’ Austin says, his tone becoming warmer. ‘I hope we can hang out today, and—’

I mumble something about having to go and end the call. I’m too fucking confused to deal with his seesawing moods right now.

The worst part about having a talented actor for a housemate is being unable to tell when they’re being genuine and when they’re putting on a show.

Austin is already home when I get back from the hotel. The second I push through the door, he bounds out of the kitchen, leaving behind a half-made coffee, and pulls me into a tight hug.

‘I’m sorry, bro,’ he says, gripping me tightly. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick.’

My palm lands on his upper back, and I give him a few pats and tell him it’s all right, even though his disappearing act over the past few days has left a bitter taste in my mouth.

But at least none of his mannerisms suggest that he’s doped out on drugs or alcohol.

No one needed that ordeal on top of everything else.

‘Where were you last night?’ he says as I pull back, his gaze sweeping down and up my crumpled suit. I could ask the same question of him—he’s unshaven and looks like he slept on a street corner. ‘Did you stay at the hotel where the party was?’

My vocal cords seize up. ‘Yeah. I took your room. Didn’t want to let a brand-new suite go to waste.’

‘That’s all right,’ he says, even though I haven’t apologised.

Austin gives my deltoid a squeeze and guides me into the kitchen, where he insists on making me a coffee so we can sit on the balcony and ‘shoot the breeze’, as he puts it. I’m still thrown by how friendly he’s being after days of radio silence.

Once I’ve showered off and changed into jeans, a loose T-shirt and basketball trainers, I head back into the kitchen.

Austin hands me a steaming mug and begins talking.

But thankfully, the topic isn’t Evie. He tells me that Nadia is threatening to go nuclear and post the mirror masturbation video of him any day now if he doesn’t publicly admit he’s in a made-up relationship with his co-star.

I guess my attempt to convince Nadia that it’s not a fake romance failed; she probably learned too much about the entertainment business during her years with Austin to believe me.

‘Have you got evidence of those threats?’ I ask. ‘That itself is a crime—blackmail is enough for us to go to the cops.’

‘I don’t.’ His jaw tenses as he opens the balcony door for me. ‘She’s not that dumb; she told me on the phone and in coded language.’

‘Coded language?’

‘Just trust me—one wrong move with Nadia, and that domino is gonna drop like a house of cards.’

I clutch my brow as we step outside.

‘We need to take Nadia seriously, man,’ Austin says, ‘because it’s not gonna be as easy to escape her as I thought.

I did some thinking while I was away. About LA.

’ He drops into one of the outdoor chairs.

‘I definitely want to get over there eventually. But with all this hype building around Moving , I think we should wait and see what happens here with my career before I leave town again. You’ve always said it—around here, I’m a bigger fish in a smaller teacup. ’

I’m pretty sure I didn’t use those words, I think, as he carries on.

‘So, instead of heading back to LA like we planned, I want to stay in Sydney. Maybe give it a couple of years. Then we can see where we’re at.’

We, we, we. When did Austin ask for my opinion in any of this? I turn away from him, massaging the back of my neck. I already knew I didn’t want to go back to LA, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here with him either … in this job, in this apartment.

Unsure of how to respond to his decision, I flop onto an outdoor chair facing the windblown skin of the ocean and set down my coffee.

‘So, how did the wrap party go last night?’ he asks, the change of topic slicing my throat.

Things with Evie aside, I need to break it to Austin that his co-star blew the shit out of the director in front of everyone.

Evie going rogue on Buzz only added to last night being one of the best of my life, but Austin won’t see it that way.

That sort of intense drama can be toxic to a film that’s still in production, even if most of the scenes have already been shot.

Plus, as long as Evie’s agent okays it, I fully intend to take the video of Buzz acting like a misogynistic pervert into Village Pictures on Monday, which will be like setting off bomb number two.

Austin drags his chair right beside mine, as if he wants to be closer to me. He’s obviously feeling bad about the past few days.

Why haven’t I realised until now how fucked up his pattern is? It’s always the same—getting shitty at me, running away, and then crawling back with affection that I don’t even want.

‘Forget the wrap party, man,’ I say. ‘What the hell has been going on with you? I’ve been trying to reach you for nearly a week.’

He looks away. ‘I told you I was fine.’

‘No, your mum told me you were fine. She said you were up at the Gold Coast, staying with some guy called Maxi.’

Austin’s eyes zip back to me; he studies the side of my face. ‘Maxi is a friend.’

‘I don’t give a shit if he’s a llama. What I wanted to know was whether you were getting blackout drunk again, or doing drugs, or whatever other shit you do when you’re in a mood.

You have no idea how relieved I am to see you sober right now.

Your mum’s been worried sick, and your dad’s gonna have his lectures lined up, too. ’

He stabs a finger at me. ‘Don’t you be pissed off at me. I’m the one who was upset. I needed time away. If I want to go to the Gold Coast, I’ll go to the fuckin’ Gold Coast.’