Page 4 of Wandering Wild

“Are you insane?”

I wince and cover my ears, but it does little good, since I can still hear every word my Lost Heirs co-star Summer West is screeching through my speakerphone.

“Four days stranded alone with a fan ? You are insane!” she declares. The wind in the background reminds me that she’s on vacation in the Maldives, and I consider how I might convince her to go back to relaxing, before realizing how futile any attempt would be. “They could be a psychopath! They probably are a psychopath!”

“Hawke will be there, too,” I say, though I’m inwardly agreeing with her, and wondering for the millionth time why I agreed to this publicity farce. “Along with his production team.”

“Not every moment,” Summer argues, her heated tone not hiding her concern. “His crew will only be there for emergency support—that means it’ll mostly be just you, him, and some potential stalker-fan. Four days means three full nights, Zan. Three full nights where this person could?—”

“Summer, please,” I cut her off with a groan, collapsing onto my couch and staring beyond the glass balcony of my beach house overlooking the Malibu coastline. “I really don’t need whatever grisly image you’re going to put in my head.”

As expected, she ignores me and begins to share—in detail—all the things that could go wrong. I tune her out to keep my stomach from churning, focusing instead on the calming sight of the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. But soon enough not even that helps.

“Summer, I beg you, please stop,” I finally say, interrupting her recitation of a fan encounter one of our colleagues endured that resulted in a messy lawsuit and hundreds of hours of therapy. “I know it could backfire, but I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do something, I’ll lose Titan. And if I lose Titan, I’ll—” Emotion clogs my voice, keeping me from finishing.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, until Summer whispers, her own voice equally full of feeling, “Oh, Zan. This is all my fault.”

I sit bolt upright. “No,” I say firmly. “Don’t you dare.”

“But I?—”

“No, Summer.” I tap my phone to activate the video feed, revealing my friend on the deck of her grandfather’s yacht, backlit by the early-morning sun and surrounded by the pristine Indian Ocean. Her blond hair is tied in a loose bun with errant strands blowing into her jade-green eyes, and her peaches-and-cream skin has a light dusting of freckles across her nose that are usually hidden when she’s in full make-up. It’s barely seven a.m. where she is, so she’s still wearing her pajamas, the My Little Pony branding nearly causing me to smile. But then I note the despair splashed across her features and any mirth I feel dissolves.

“If you hadn’t—” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.

“I did, and I’d do it again.” I hold her eyes through the screen. “And again, and again.” She bites her lip, uncertain, so I continue, “I mean it, Summer. I have no regrets, and the last thing I want is for you to carry the burden of my choices on top of everything else you’re already shouldering. You promised me you would let it go.”

“That’s easier said than done when you almost lost your career because of me,” she says quietly. “Hell, you still might .”

“And what about you?” I return. “How many roles have you been offered in the last year?”

Summer looks out at the ocean, not answering.

I soften my voice. “You aren’t responsible for my decisions, Sum. That’s ridiculous, and you know it. I’ll be okay—and you will, too. We just have to get through this rough patch. Both of us. Then we’ll be golden.”

I send her a confident smile, hoping it doesn’t appear as forced as it feels. She doesn’t look convinced, but she eventually nods, indicating that she’ll at least try to accept what I said. I’m relieved, but that fades quickly when she returns to our previous topic, causing me to slump back into my cushions.

“I still don’t understand why you had to bring Hawke into this competition thing,” Summer says, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Can’t you just take the winner to lunch? Or do literally anything else that doesn’t involve a multiday camping trip?”

My heart warms, since I know why she’s asking, and I love her for wanting to protect me. She was there during the interview four years ago, waiting to join me on the couch, so she had a front-row seat when the photo of me fishing with my parents was revealed. We’d known each other for two years by then and she’d become like a sister, so I’d already told her more than what I shared with millions of viewers that day— much more. Because of that, she knows exactly why this fan experience is going to be so difficult for me.

“Hawke’s image is spotless, unlike mine,” I answer, then move on swiftly so she doesn’t return to blaming herself. “Gabe and Valentina are confident that spending a few days filming with him and the competition winner will improve the studio’s view of me, in the time we need for it to happen.”

“That’s easy for them to say,” Summer mutters, her frown visible through the screen. “They’re not the ones who have to go and play Hunt for the Wilderpeople for four days.”

That prompts a chuckle from me. “That was set in New Zealand. Hawke’s taking us to Australia.”

Her eyes flare with interest. “Australia? You didn’t mention that before.”

I grimace. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Australia is amazing.” Summer makes a wistful sound. “That’ll be so much better than freezing your ass off in the Arctic Circle, or boiling in some African desert.”

She has a point. But I still say, “I’ve heard everything in Australia wants to kill you.”

Summer waves a dismissive hand. “The survival part isn’t going to be your problem—you’re unnaturally good at all that outdoorsy stuff. It’s the fan aspect that’s going to be your biggest challenge. And... you know...” She clears her throat. “The rest.”

I deliberately ignore the last part of what she said, stretching my jeans-clad legs out as I share, “Did I tell you there’s been over ten million entries since the comp went live three days ago? Thank God it closes tonight. I feel sick just thinking about why so many people have entered.”

Summer’s lips twitch and she relaxes against the railing behind her. “You do realize that at least nine-point-nine million of them want to win because they’re hoping you’ll fall madly in love with them, right?”

I pull a face. “And the remaining point-one mil?”

Her lip twitch grows into a full, wicked smirk. “They’re hoping for something a lot less wholesome.” Before I can reply—not that I even know what to say to that—she sobers and asks, “Have you spoken with your parents about this yet?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “They’re about as thrilled as you are.” That’s an understatement. But they also know how much the role of Titan means to me, and how far I’ll go to keep it.

Carefully, Summer prompts, “And Maddox?”

My gut tightens. “He still won’t take my calls.”

There’s a hesitant pause, before Summer says, “It’s been three months.”

I don’t need the reminder. “You know how he feels about what happened that night.”

Both of us fall silent, neither needing—or wanting —to talk about the night of my DUI. Maddox, especially, doesn’t want to talk about it. My best friend is icing me out, and even though I understand why, I still hate it.

Compassion fills Summer’s eyes, but I don’t want to hear what she’s about to say, so I jump in first to share, “Once the winner is notified—tomorrow, I think Gabe said—I’ll be boarding a plane straight to Sydney, so I doubt we’ll have another chance to talk until it’s all over. But Hawke’s team have pulled some strings and they’ve arranged to slot the episode into their current release schedule, so you’ll at least get to witness my misery almost as soon as it happens.”

“‘Misery’ is a strong word—let’s stay positive here,” Summer says, before catching my skeptical look and quickly moving on. “Do you know when the episode is dropping? And where?”

I rattle off the names of the streaming services, but as for the timing, I shake my head. “It depends on how good their editing team is, but Gabe said they’re aiming to upload the full episode a day or so after we’re done. It’s pure luck that Hawke owed Valentina a favor and agreed to make this happen much faster than normal, otherwise there’s no way it’d be ready within the time the studio gave me.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Summer says soothingly. “Everything is falling into place, and it’s all going to work out perfectly.”

Her conviction has me arching an eyebrow. “I thought you said I was insane for doing this?”

She grins. “I stand by that. But I’ll also be stocking up on popcorn since I’m in dire need of some quality entertainment, and you, my friend, are going to deliver. Four days in the wild with a crazy stalker-fan?” She snickers. “I can’t wait to watch that. On repeat.”

I glare at her. “You’re awful.”

Her grin widens. “Love you, too, Zan. Call me when you’re back in civilization.” She winks, before finishing, “And try not to fall in love with your stalker-fan, or I’ll never let you live it down.”

She air-kisses the screen and terminates our call, missing the eye roll I offer in response to her words.

Combing a hand through my hair, I glance out at my view once more, noting the swiftly darkening sky. I need to go for a run before dinner, but an impulse comes over me, and I tap my phone to activate a new call. As anticipated, it rings only twice before I’m sent to voicemail, like every other time I’ve tried in the last three months.

“Yo! You’ve reached Maddox. Leave a message.”

When the beep sounds, I begin talking automatically, stumbling over the words. “Hey, it’s me. Uh, Zander. I just... well, I wanted to let you know that I’m heading overseas for about a week. Not sure if you’ve seen the media blast, but Gabe’s got me doing this competition thing to help with—” I break off quickly, careful not to bring up my public image problems to Maddox of all people.

“Listen,” I say, quieter, “I get it, man. You know I do. But please... call me back.” I pull out the big guns and add, “I have to go camping, Mox. Four days, with Rykon Hawke and a fan. And I just... after everything that happened...” I pause, take a breath, then finish weakly, “I’d feel a lot better if I could talk to you before I leave.”

I hang up without saying goodbye, already knowing Maddox isn’t going to return my call. No amount of pleading over the last three months has moved him to communicate with me, and any attempts I’ve made to visit him in person have led to him closing the door in my face—the first time—or not opening it at all—every time since then.

I miss my best friend. Now, more than ever.

But I also know there’s nothing else I can do. He’ll talk to me when he’s ready. I just wish he would hurry up and be ready.

Placing a hand over my aching heart, I allow myself a moment to grieve, before finally rising to my feet. My phone begins to ring, causing my pulse to leap with hope, but it’s not Maddox’s name on the screen.

It’s Gabe’s.

Dread and anticipation fill me as I accept the connection, both growing exponentially when his deep voice comes clearly through the speaker:

“We’ve drawn the winner. Are you ready for your adventure?”