I shot him a look. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
He smirked. “Hey, I call it like I see it.”
I tried to brush him off. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re about one bad take away from a meltdown. You’re spiraling. And it’s not because of this movie. You’re miserable because you left Anna.”
“I don’t?—”
“You’ve been running your whole life.” He leaned forward. “Hiding behind fame, charm, and that ‘aw-shucks’ smile of yours. And now you’re too scared to stop running. But guess what? You can fix this. It’s not too late to stop acting like an idiot.” He slapped me on the back.
“But, Toph, I asked her to move to LA with me, and she rejected me. Why would she stay in New Orleans? It’s a place of heartbreak for her. It’s where she lost her mother. I mean, she can write from anywhere.”
Toph shook his head. “Look at it from her point of view, man. She’s probably terrified. Look at what happened the last time she tried to leave. Her mother died in that evacuation nightmare. That kind of trauma doesn’t vanish.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Trauma,” I echoed.
“That’s right. Love isn’t always moving forward. Sometimes it can mean just standing still and surviving.”
For the first time, it hit me. Not just intellectually, but in my bones. Anna wanting to stay in New Orleans didn’t mean she didn’t care for me. It was a lifeline she couldn’t let go of.
Topher let the silence hang for a moment before clapping his hands and standing up. “Okay, enough brooding. I’ve got a meeting to crush, and you’ve got lines to learn. So figure out what you want, Luke. Seriously.”
He gave me a pointed look, adjusted his tie, and strode out the door like he’d just delivered the keynote speech at some Fortune 500 conference.
I sat there for a while, staring at the door.
51
ANNA
The riverfront was quiet,save for the gentle lapping of the Mississippi against the bank.
I hadn’t been to this spot in years. It had been since before Hurricane Katrina, when my mom and I used to sit here and talk about everything and nothing. I could almost feel her beside me, her hand resting on mine, her voice calm.
The memories came rushing back, and I let myself cry.
I cried for her, for the years I’d spent wishing she were still here. I cried for Luke, for the chance I’d had and thrown away. I cried for the fear that ruled my life, keeping me from reaching for anything I truly wanted.
I stared out at the water, the rhythmic sound of the waves soothing the ache in my chest. Marie Antoinette’s words echoed in my head.You already rejected yourself.Anddon’t let fear run your life.
She was right. I’d spent my whole life running from rejection instead of fighting for what I wanted.
The humid New Orleans air curled the edges of the printed pages in my lap, and I smoothed them absently as I read through my story again.
It wasn’t just a superhero story. Not really.
I’d written about a hero finding strength in vulnerability, but as I flipped through the pages, I saw myself there too, in every moment of doubt, every battle fought in silence. I’d written about my fears of failure, of opening up, of rejection.
And I’d written about Luke.
Not as a flawless hero swooping in to save the day, but as someone who showed me the beauty in being real. He showed me New?Orleans—my city, my home—from a perspective I’d never known before: not just as a place that shaped me, but as a place I could finally honorandchoose to leave.
The pages reflected everything I’d been too afraid to admit, even to myself, how fear of rejection had controlled so much of my life, keeping me from ever truly putting myself out there. But the real revelation? Rejection wasn’t the worst thing. The worst thing was never taking the chance at all.
My eyes burned, and I was done crying.
Mom’s voice echoed in my mind:You can do anything, Anna. You just have to try.
