“Yeah,” he said softly. “That’d be nice.”
They talked for another few minutes—about his sister’s new job, the broken washing machine, and a neighbor’s dog who kept escaping. The kind of ordinary chaos that used to drive him crazy as a teenager but now felt like home.
When he finally hung up, the room was quiet again. He stood there for a moment, phone still in his hand, the laughter from the call echoing faintly in his head. For a few minutes, the noise in his chest eased, replaced by the warmth only his family could offer. The call left him steadier, but these days, peace like that never lasted long.
***
Later that day, Liam sat in the makeup trailer with his phone balanced loosely in his hand. Benji, his favorite makeup artist, worked on him with practiced ease, smoothing concealer beneath his tired eyes.
“Hold still,” Benji said. “You’re extra twitchy today.”
Liam didn’t respond. His eyes stayed locked on the screen in front of him, the new call sheet staring back.
In three days, they’d be leaving the city behind for a week of filming at a remote nature reserve. It would be just the cast, the crew, and all that wilderness pressing in from every side. Theplace was supposedly beautiful, and far enough off the grid that there wouldn’t be much else around. They’d be staying in a small eco-lodge: the cast in private rooms, the rest of the crew in bunk-style cabins.
Benji dabbed carefully under one eye, then leaned back to examine his work. “Didn’t sleep?”
“Not much.”
“Let me guess—too much doom-scrolling before bed?” Benji asked, voice light but amused. “That trailer’s everywhere. You’ve seen the chaos online, right?”
Liam hesitated. “A little.”
Benji’s reflection caught Liam’s eyes in the mirror. “You and Jacob,” he said, grinning. “Honey, that wasn’t just chemistry—that was pure heat.”
Liam’s fingers stilled on his phone. “If people are seeing heat, then we’re doing our jobs.”
“Darling, please. You couldn’t hide that kind of spark if you tried. Whatever’s between you and Jacob—it’s practically radiating off the screen.”
Benji had that bright energy of someone who noticed everything and couldn’t resist turning it into conversation. Normally, Liam didn’t mind, but today he was cutting a little too close to the bone. He forced himself to look up, eyes meeting Benji’s through the mirror. “Is that your professional opinion?”
A faint smile tugged at Benji’s mouth. “I paint faces, not spin stories.” He tapped Liam’s chin lightly. “All done, handsome.”
Liam swallowed and looked at himself in the mirror. Benji’s brushwork had done its job. “Appreciate it,” he said, the words automatic.
Benji was already cleaning his brushes, voice drifting somewhere between teasing and kind. “Three days till freedom—or maybe not. Depends what you’re running from.”
Liam didn’t answer. He wasn’t thinking about the studio anymore. His mind was already spiraling, circling the one truth he couldn’t escape. They were heading into the woods, into the kind of isolation that stripped everything down to its core. He couldn’t shake the feeling that once he and Jacob were out there, something between them would break—and there’d be no putting it back together.
Chapter 22
Jacob
He sat on a large, flat rock surrounded by moss and trees, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. His gaze stretched across the lake to the jagged line of mountains in the distance. The air smelled clean and fresh, of pine and damp stone.
He’d hiked half an hour from the lodge to get here, slipping away before anyone could question where he was going. The crew was still unloading gear, but he had needed a bit of space. Some stillness. A moment to breathe before the circus started.
Nature always had a way of leveling him out. When his head felt too full and his chest too tight, the woods made him feel like he could breathe again. If he sat still long enough, the serenity would always put him back together. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed and needed it.
It was the first morning on location; some of the cast and crew were still trickling in. Ahead lay seven days of shooting, and seven nights in a remote lodge tucked deep in the wilderness. A full week of pretending nothing had changed—when everything had.
He tipped his head back, eyes tracing the canopy overhead. Sunlight threaded through the branches in fractured gold, catching on the leaves like fire. Somewhere far down the slope, a bird called once, then fell quiet again.
He hadn’t slept much. Not because of restlessness—though that lingered too—but because he’d been on the phone with Liam until nearly three in the morning.
Again.
He knew it was reckless. He shouldn’t have agreed to it that first time. Shouldn’t have answered last night either, yet he always did. Every time. Without fail.
