Page 2 of Reckless Storm (San Francisco End Game #3)

Hayley

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

“ A nd… Action.”

Tears streak my face as I run forward, my gaze never leaving the man in front of me, watching as he falls to the rugged terrain, the life leaving his eyes before his body hits the dirt.

I’d scream but it’s no use. I’m too late. And it’s all my fault.

My heart shatters as I reach him, a million shards cutting me from the inside, destroying me like I destroyed him. A broken cry pierces the silence, and it’s only when I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around him that I realize it was mine.

Someone touches my back but I shake them off. I don’t deserve their sympathy.

Before we met, this man was an angel. Now he’s been reduced to nothing more than the skin and bones tucked beneath my grasp. The frail human that risked everything to protect me.

A man willing to die for someone born to be a killer.

I cry again, but this time my wail isn’t so foreign to my ears.

This time I recognize it for what it is—the sound of a woman scorned.

The sound of a woman losing the last shred of innocence she’d been trying so hard to hold on to.

The sound of a woman realizing she’s just lost the love of her life, when he was the only good thing left in her world.

Leaving me as a shadow of my former self.

And shadows can easily be taken to the dark side.

“Cut. That was perfect.”

“Oh. Thank God.” I release a long, obnoxious sigh and slowly lift to my feet, wiping the tears from my eyes as my co-star Evan stares up at me, awe in his expression.

“Holy shit, Hayley. You nailed that. I think I might actually be in love with you.”

“Shut up.” I happily wave him off, appreciating his humor after one of the most intense days of filming that I’ve ever experienced.

Evan’s eyes widen as his gaze drifts to someone behind me, and I don’t need to look to know it’s our director.

We’ve been working on this scene for days and that last moment was the final piece to the puzzle and, in my opinion, the most crucial.

The turning point for my character. One I had to get right. There was no other option.

The movie we’re making is based on a book. An extremely popular cult-like book. And if I hadn’t nailed it, as Evan said, I’d be crucified at the stake. There’d be no coming back from this.

Yet… I feel freaking amazing because I just gave the performance of my life and I couldn’t be prouder of myself.

“Hayley fucking Jackman.” Our director, Steve, pulls me into a hug, suffocating me in his grip, confirming that he’s just as relieved as I am.

“There are tears in my fucking eyes and I’m three times divorced after all my exes left me for my lack of emotion.

Turns out, I’ve just been waiting for you to bring it out of me.

Maybe my next marriage will work out fine. ”

I laugh awkwardly while Evan rolls his eyes.

Steve’s known for his eccentric happy-go-lucky manner, but he’s also known as a director who never gives compliments unless they are well and truly earned.

We usually find out we’ve done something right when the assistant director, otherwise known as the AD, announces we’re moving on to a new scene while Steve casually walks off set, waving cheerfully as he goes.

It’s been a ride, but one I wouldn’t get off, even if you had a gun to my head.

“Honestly, Steve, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that connected to a scene. Any chance we can go back and re-record a few other scenes now that I’m in the zone?” I elbow him in the chest and comically wince until he smiles.

“Not on your life, Jackman. But…” He pauses, and I find myself leaning in with anticipation, as does Evan. God knows why. “I will admit that you have nothing to worry about. You were born to play Riley. Audiences are going to love it.”

He walks away without waiting for my response while Evan and I stare at him in shock.

“Did that really just happen?” Evan’s the first to speak, his eyes on Steve’s back as he heads over to our AD.

“I think it did,” I whisper, my voice trapped as I process. “And I hate to say it, but that means hell just froze over.”

“I hate to say you’re right. Basically, we’re fucked.”

“Yep.”

I’m called into makeup to fix the blood plastered on my face, ready for the next shot, and it’s only then that I finally relax.

While we’re still filming the same scene, this time the camera will be set up mostly behind me, giving me a rest from the tears.

I’ve always been able to cry on cue, and it’s gotten me out of many situations, but when it’s this tense and emotional, the fake becomes a little too real, and it’s hard to pull myself out of it.

I wouldn’t say I avoid emotion as such. In fact, I thrive on it. But it tends to skew toward emotions that are positive or protective in nature, not so much the deep, depressing kind.

Those, I keep to myself.

Like discovering the love of your life just died trying to save you—in the case of my character— or that your boyfriend of five years was cheating on you for three of them, and you found out but chose to pretend you were oblivious so that you could follow him to the US to pursue your dream of acting. That one is all me.

Those are not the emotions I let linger.

But hurt a friend of mine, or try to get in my pants when I’m not interested, and I’ll hold a grudge for years. I’m not even opposed to violence.

“Hayley, Hayley, Hayley,” our head makeup artist, Lucian, gushes with his hands clenched near his heart. “Word travels fast, and I hear you just perfected that performance. Apparently our darling Steve actually praised you.”

“He did, and honestly, it’s gone to my head.

How dare you talk to me like we’re friends.

Don’t you know I’m a huge star?” I deliver my line with no emotion while Lucian’s assistant touches up my eyeliner, and he barks out a laugh, forcing his assistant to move away from my face in case I follow suit.

“Oh, Hayley, I could listen to your accent all day. Tell me. What would you say in Australia after an epic performance like that?”

I think on it for a second and grin, gesturing for the makeup artist to continue her work. “If it was me, I’d be saying much the same as I am now. I’m not fake, remember?” And I try to maintain an American accent while I’m on set.

Lucian rolls his eyes and I laugh, careful not to let it reach my eyes.

We’ve spent many hours discussing all the actors and actresses that have sat in this very chair, or at least, a chair similar to this one, and it’s safe to say he’s had a run of bad luck lately.

Until me, so he claims. He pouts now, because of my boring answer, but I’m not done.

“I do, however , know a director who would have said something along the lines of ‘you bloody ripper,’ if that’s what you’re after?

” My lips pull into a grin, knowing full well that’s exactly what he wants to hear.

“That’s it. You’ve done me in. I’m moving to Australia. I need to be able to say ‘bloody ripper’ and get away with it.”

“Let me know if you do. I have a few contacts.”

“Mmm.” His smile turns mischievous. “If those contacts are as fine as your ex, then hand over your address book, my love, because I’m taking them all.”

He’s so over-the-top that I can’t help but belly laugh, moving my head in the process, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Lucian’s assistant.

Schooling my features, I apologize softly, while Lucian waves off her concern.

“Let her live a little, Cher,” Lucian says, taking the eyeliner from her hands to finish the job himself. “Our dear Hayley just performed the scene that’s going to propel her to stardom. We’re in no rush. I have a feeling they’ll wait.”

My heart jolts, and for the first time, my confidence makes way for something new, something I hadn’t anticipated…

gratitude. Because while I’ve always dreamed I’d be a star, always assumed I’d find a way to get there, I never once stopped to think about how I’d feel if I did.

Almost like my false bravado was guiding the way, paving a path for me.

But now that it’s a reality, the relief I feel is boundless.

This could be it. I might be close to becoming the person I always wanted to be.

And the thought of that is humbling.

Who knew?

“ A nd that’s a wrap. Well done, everyone.”

A collective cheer fills the air as I deflate, grabbing the wall to stop myself from crashing in a heap.

Instead of the elation I expected to feel after finishing my first starring role, an emptiness starts low in my belly and works its way through my chest, branching out until my entire body is numb.

I’ve done all I can do for this movie, and now I’m left to wait for the vultures to suck the life out of me. For the masses to judge me. To put me on a pedestal for their own enjoyment and leave me there until they’ve decided whether to praise me or throw stones.

My thoughts are a little dark and twisted, I know, but I guess I never considered the aftermath before now.

In Australia, I was known as the sweetheart of the silver screen.

Audiences loved me because I played characters they couldn’t hate.

They had no idea that behind the scenes, I wanted to play the dark, gritty characters.

I wanted parts that had depth and unexpected layers.

Because I felt more connected to that part of myself.

At the core…I wanted this role.

And only now that I’ve finished it, it’s hitting me that I’ll no longer be seen as a sweetheart anymore. Far from it.

But I have never loved a role more.

I’m engulfed in a million hugs before I make it back to my trailer, and the second I’m inside, I’m stripping off my shirt, in desperate need of a shower before we all head out to celebrate.

With a long sigh, I reach around to unhook my bra and—

“Did you forget I was here?”

“Jesus Christ, Amelia.” Abandoning my task, I lower myself to the couch and clutch at my chest while my heart runs rampant. “You bet your ass, I forgot.”

I stare at my best friend while she grins at my expense, and I can’t help getting caught up in her happiness.

“You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you with something,” I joke as I finally smile, shaking my head at my stupidity.

I put her name down at security, I was texting her throughout the day, and I still forgot.

Smirking at my dramatics, Amelia arches her brows as her eyes lock on my hands. “Were you going to flick me with your bra?”

I hit her with all the side-eye I can muster, but smile. “You know I could do a lot of damage with this thing. It’s not the weapon, but how you use it.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Touché. And there are too many men that have no idea how to use it.”

Amelia smiles before the glint in her eyes sparkles. “On that note…” she trails off while I bounce in anticipation.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a congratulatory present for you, since I can’t come out to party tonight.”

Ignoring the pang I get from knowing that time with my best friend is about to be cut short, I smile to ease her mind. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

In the past, I would have argued about Amelia not coming out, but since she’s now the mother of a beautiful little girl, I’ve given her some grace.

How could I not? The past year hasn’t been easy for her, and I witnessed it all from the sidelines, helping where I could but hating that I wasn’t always there when she needed me. Because of this movie.

Amelia smiles sadly and my heart aches. “Amelia, I’m—”

“Nope. Do not get sappy on me because your emotions are in shambles. I’ve told you time and time again. I’m fine. I was fine. And I had Luke there when you couldn’t be.”

“Which was more often than I’d like.”

“But look how well it worked out.”

Ah yes, Luke… Her childhood enemy turned baby daddy turned love of her life.

Amelia constantly tells me that if I’d been around more often she may have come to rely on me and she and Luke would never have connected like they did.

But even if that were true, I still feel an element of guilt, and always will.

“I’m happy, Hayley. And I’ve never had a negative thought toward you. You know I love you.”

“I do. So what’s this surprise then? Please get me out of my emotional funk.” I glance around the room and find a box of chocolates on the table, secured with a red bow.

“Aww, you got me chocolates?”

“What?” Amelia’s gaze follows mine. “No. My surprise is better than that.”

“I happen to love chocolates, and those are my favorites.”

“Trust me.” She chuffs out a laugh as she shakes her head. “This is better.”

“Go on.”

Amelia smirks while her eyes light up with excited mischief. “Luke’s going out with you. Instead of me.”

Huh. “Luke? Ahh…how do I say this? I love your hubby, I do, but—”

“He’s bringing a few guys from the team.

” And there it is. The perfect gift. Way better than chocolate.

A gift that keeps on giving. I’ve hung out with the guys a few times now and they’re always a ball of fun.

It’s exactly what I need to forget about the pressure I’ve put on myself and to enjoy the fact that I just finished filming a goddamn Hollywood movie.

And I was freaking amazing.

No matter what people think about the movie or me when it’s released, they can’t take that away.

This has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.

And I’m going to enjoy it.