I groan and push myself up, unable to open my eyes.

“Jesus,” she says, extending a water bottle and two pills. “You look like shit.”

I glare at her, wishing I felt well enough to threaten her job or at least make a retort back. Instead I pop the pills in my mouth and take a gulp of water. “Tell them I’m sick,” I say. “Food poisoning. Or the flu. Or something. Fuck, anything. I don’t care.”

“Everyone knows you went out drinking last night.” She hands me a shirt. “This is a small town. Even if it weren’t for the paparazzi, you stick out. There are pictures of you on Perez Hilton’s site.”

I stick my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and struggle to pull it over my head. I’m still fucking drunk. Finally, I get the shirt on and glare at Claire. Her red hair is pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head and her pale skin is flush from frustration.

I’ve fired her three times over the last year. Yet I always hire her back within a week. She’s a pain in the arse and never sugar coats anything like the other assistants I’ve had. She doesn’t stroke my ego, or anything else—I’ve tried before when I was drunk—but she’s damn good at what she does. I don’t say it, but I can’t function without her. And she knows it.

I pull on trousers and stand up. Claire runs her fingers through my hair to pull out the tangles. There’s nothing sexual about her touch. She’s several years older than me and puts off a mum vibe. I haven’t admitted to myself yet that I like the maternal affection. God knows I didn’t get any of it as a child.

“Put these on,” she says, giving me sunglasses and a baseball cap. “Keep your head down. We can’t afford any stops, and trust me, you don’t want anyone seeing you like this.” She’s on the phone as we hurry through the hallway of the hotel. Frank, my bodyguard, nods at Claire and his cheeks redden just a bit. I smile to myself. Oh, there’s something going on between them.

“Where’s my phone?” I ask, and Claire digs it out of her giant bag.

“Your battery is at fifteen percent, but I have the portable charger in the car.”

“Thanks.” I unlock it and scroll through my messages. Most are from my friends, who are also famous. Actors, artists, and a few TV show hosts. I answer as many as I can on my way to the car, which is waiting for me in front of the hotel. A small crowd gathers around. I don’t care what Claire says. I hold my hand up and smile.

Claire shakes her head and sighs, opening the door for me to get into the car. I slide in the back of the sedan and take the sunglasses off. I open the Internet to look at the supposed horrible picture of me. My browser is still open to the article of the barn fire that killed Haley’s mother.

“That girl who interviewed me Saturday,” I start and close the window. I remember Haley’s eyes so vividly. A pretty shade of green with blue flecks around the pupil, holding back so much hurt, reflecting the pain I’ve tried so fucking hard to bury.

“What about her?” Claire asks, eyes going wide. “Was she rude? Did she do a bad interview? Should I call and bitch?”

I smile. “No, but can you get me info on her?”

Claire turns to me, eyebrows hiking up so high they disappear under her bangs. “Why?”

I shrug. “Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”

She purses her lips together. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Another shrug. “Anything you can find.”

“If you go to jail for stalking, it’s not my fault,” she says as she types a reminder in her phone. I just smile and lean back, letting my eyes close. It’s an hour drive to the set—just enough time for a nap.

Claire wakes me up when the car goes through security. I run my hands over my face and groan. I’m hungry, have to pee, and feel like total shit.

“Eat this,” she says, handing me a protein bar. “Then drink this.”

I take a bite of the peanut butter flavored bar and force it down before chugging the rest of the water. I get a coffee while I sit in hair and makeup. I sip it and think about my character. I channel him, letting my thoughts fall to the wayside. I become him, feel what he feels, and let Aiden Shepherd disappear into nothing for the rest of the day.

“I know you get fixated,” Claire says that night. It’s eleven o’clock and we just got back from filming. She picked up Mexican food and brought it back to my room. “But this one, I don’t understand.”

She hands me a Styrofoam box filled with tacos, rice, and beans. I looked down at the papers she printed off about Haley Parker.

“She’s pretty and all, but she’s just some horse trainer who works for a small press. I don’t see why you’re so interested.”

“I asked her to go out with me,” I say, picking up a taco. It’s hot and dripping with grease, and totally against my strict diet. It’s heaven. “And she said no.”

“Oh, so you need to recover your ego?” She sticks a fork in her salad and flips through her calendar.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. It’s more than that. There’s something about Haley that hits me hard, and I’m still pissed she caused such darkness to stir inside of me. “She probably swings the other way.”

Claire shakes her head. “According to Facebook, she ended her last relationship with some boy named Lucas in February.” She sighs. “I don’t know, Aiden. You saw what this girl has been through. Maybe you should leave her alone.”

“Maybe,” I say so she won’t lecture me. I know that’s not something I can do. Haley is unlike anyone I’d ever met. Her passion for giving the horses a second chance, the way she thought anything could be redeemed, could be saved.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d think the same about me.

Chapter 7

I take in a deep breath of warm June air. I love the way it smells when it rains. “It’s okay,” I say softly to Phoenix. She knows I’m coming in to treat her wounds. I can’t blame her for shying away; it can’t feel good. I hold out a treat, but that doesn’t work anymore. I get what I can and decide to come back later, not wanting to stress her out.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m scrambling to get my barn chores done before Lori comes over to hear every last detail about Aiden. It’s windy and has been raining on and off since I drove home from Lily’s Café.

I can’t get Aiden out of my head. He’s kind of a pompous ass, but shouldn’t I have expected that? It was hard to dig up info on his life before he became famous. He comes from a middle-class family living in London, went to college for theatre, and landed a role in some British Broadway show. Things went crazy from there, and he’s now a mega superstar making tons of money.

His life is charmed. He has everything he could ever want and more than he could ever need. I could get angry thinking about how unfair it is. Part of me wishes I would. At least I would feel something. It isn’t his fame, fortune, good looks, or even the presumptuous way he asked me out that sticks in my head.

It’s the scars, the way his beautiful eyes dimmed, and for a minute I thought he understood what I meant about saving the horses and getting second chances. I shake my head at the thought. No, that’s stupid. We didn’t share a moment. We didn’t share anything but conversation and a table. I don’t know him. It’s impossible to connect that fast.

Or is it?

Mom’s voice rings in my ears, telling me to loosen up and enjoy life. It’s over before you know it. One day you’re young and in your twenties, the next you have a daughter who’s turning twenty-one. Life can be over before you know it, before you expect it. Before it’s fair, before you can be ready, and just like that it’s swept out from underneath you, knocking you back into icy water. I’m treading as fast as I can, furiously kicking my legs. Yet I’m sinking below the surface.