He needs to let it out if the river’s going to have a chance to change him.
I purse my lips and try to find the right question to ask him. “You also said you don’t like the idea of acting when not on a set.”
His eyebrows slide together. “So why am I constantly playing a role?” he asks gruffly, speaking the question for me.
He hit the nail right on the head with that one, which makes me think he knows exactly how contradictory his perfectionism is to his values. “It’s one thing to try to be perfect in public,” I tell him, moving my hand from his leg to his arm. “The world is brutal, and I get that your image and reputation are important to your career. But you’re allowed to letyour guard down sometimes. Just like you’re allowed to be imperfect. I don’t know what made you this way, but—”
“My mom.” He winces and shuts his eyes, like he’s silently chiding himself for speaking. But then he sighs and looks at me again. “She had an affair when I was a kid. I walked in on her with the guy, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.”
Yikes. “How old were you?”
“Six.”
My stomach twists, and I hold tighter to his arm. “That’s a lot of pressure for a kid that young.” I would know. I got my start in film at seven, and even back then I felt the weight of performing well. The director of that first movie often told me that every time I got a line wrong, it meant the entire crew had to do more work and jobs were at stake if I didn’t play my role to perfection. He was a tool, but the pressure he put on me—more than was healthy for a kid—was a big part of why I rose so quickly in fame.
It’s also the reason I never got to be a kid, and it sounds like Derek didn’t either.
Nodding, Derek shifts his arm back to take my hand, keeping his eyes on our hands as he talks. “It was my uncle. The man she cheated on my dad with. Iknewhim, which meant the secret ate me up inside because sometimes he would come over and hang out with my dad like nothing had ever happened. A couple of months later, I was out camping with my dad, and the truth just…slipped out. I messed up.”
He slips trembling fingers in between mine. His voice trembles too, and he almost sounds like he’s back in that moment when he was a kid. “Dad didn’t talk to me the rest of the trip, and he confronted Mom when we got back. She tried to play it off as a kid spouting lies, but I think he already knew deep down that she wasn’t faithful. And he knew that I wouldn’t say something like that without a reason, so he told my mom that he would be leaving in the morning. She…” He rolls his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable, and his breaths start coming faster as he shuts his eyes again. “She got so angry with me. Said that if I had kept my mouth shut like I promised, then our family wouldn’t be splitting apart. Like it was my fault.”
When his breath stutters into his lungs, the building ache in my heart spurs me forward. I slip my hand free so I can wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him against my side, ignoring the shudder that runs through him. “It wasn’t your fault, Derek,” I whisper.
“I know.” He groans, leaning into me more heavily. “Iknow. But back then? My mom was furious and hated me, my dad was devastated and wouldn’t talk to me even though he took me with him, and all I could think about was how everything had been okay before I messed up and spilled the secret. My entire life was upended because I…” He shudders again, still struggling to take deep breaths like he’s close to another panic.
“That’s where it all started,” I surmise, rubbing his back and wishing I could go back in time and comfort that little kid. “Derek, I’m so sorry.” He shifts, his discomfort almost tangible, and I grab his hand again to let him know that I’m here to help him if he wants to talk.
He looks at me, his expression pained but grateful at the same time. I hope he’s starting to realize that talking about things is the best way to process and move on. That’s something I wish I would have known before Derek figured out who I am. I haven’t really talked about my past life with anyone. Not even Pops or my parents. But having it out in the open makes the shadows of my past less intimidating.
Secrets can be darker than people think.
“When was the last time you talked to your mom?” I ask. As much as I enjoy the quiet that sits between us, broken only by the low thrum of the rapids, I get the feeling Derek has more to say. If he hasn’t spoken to his mom since he was a kid, like I suspect, I doubt he’s had any closure over the situation.
Though he grimaces, Derek manages a full breath this time. “She tries to get in contact with me every few years,” he says, shaking his head, “but in the last year and a half she’s been trying harder than ever. And somehow she got my phone number a few weeks ago, which has made her feel more…accessible, I guess.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
He shrugs. “When I was a kid, I talked to her a couple of times a year, but Dad never let me see her after he fought for full custody. By the time I got to middle school, I realized she never really cared about what was going on in my life, so he was doing me a favor. But when I got to Hollywood and landed my first big role, suddenly she was back.” Closing his eyes, he lets his head hang and his shoulders slump. He looks exhausted.
I can’t imagine what that must have been like. For all my faults, I was lucky, and my parents were my champions, even when I didn’t deserve it. “What did she do?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He grits his teeth, watching me for a second like he’s debating if he even wants to say it out loud. “Nothing crazy,” he says after a long moment. “She showed up to one of my auditions when I was sixteen and asked to talk to me. My agent knew my mom didn’t have any parental rights, so he got her information and sent her packing so I didn’t have to see her if I didn’t want to. I’ll always be grateful to him for having my back like that.”
I have so many questions, and it’s hard to choose what to ask first. I thought I knew most of what there was to know about Derek Riley’s career, but there are a few empty spaces that I can’t fill. Starting at the beginning is the easiest. “How did you get into Hollywood, Derek?”
His lips curve up in a small smile that is a much better sight than the pain and frustration of the last several minutes. “You mean you don’t already know my whole history? Everyone else does.”
“Clearly that’s not true. And you seem to forget that I’m not a Derek Riley fan.”
His smile grows. “Just a casual film aficionado who has seen most of my movies and finds me incredibly handsome and insanely talented.”
Heat rises in my face, and I roll my eyes. I hate how easily he makes pride look good. “Don’t go adding modifiers to my words, Superman.” Even if he isincrediblyhandsome. “Besides, I’m smart enough to know not everything on the internet is true.”
Taking a deep breath, he shifts his gaze to the canyon around us, soaking it all in as he talks. “Most of it is true, actually. I’ve been lucky when it comes to the tabloids, and for the most part they’re too busy praising me to bother with spinning tales. I got my first role a few months after I turned fifteen, a small part with only a few lines, and someone liked what they saw and got me a lead role with a minor studio. Things grew from there, and here I am.”
I wonder where I might have ended up if I had stayed in Hollywood. I’m glad I never found out. I’m not sure I would have ever changed my ways if I hadn’t been forced into it. “See, that didn’t answer my question,” I say, scooting closer so our shoulders are touching, though this rock is getting really hard really fast and my butt is going numb. “How did yougetto Hollywood? Everyone seems to think you came out of nowhere.”
That smile of his is dangerous and leaves me melting in my seat as he turns its full strength to me. “They’re not wrong.”
