April closed the door behind them.
Then his shoulders dropped.
The easy, practiced Caleb Hart smile, the one that arrived automatically in every room, at every premiere, across every press junket table for seventeen years didn't.
He didn't reach for it.
"I told you this morning you were a chaos agent."
April's mouth curved. "Beats learning to milk cows in heels."
He almost smiled.
Didn't quite get there.
"Thank you."
April leaned against the door, arms crossed, waiting.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm Caleb Hart. People look at me and see exactly what they want to see."
He'd learned to give it to them. Easier that way. You became the thing they needed and nobody had to have an uncomfortable conversation about what was actually underneath it. The fantasy was easier to maintain. The alternative required figuring out what was left when you took it away.
"But you just—" He shook his head. "You don't."
Because she was responding to something underneath the role like it was obvious. Like of course there was a person there.
He wasn't sure he could back that up.
This morning he'd put Chad in a room with no audience. Held up the mirror.
Chad hadn't unraveled. Chad had stood there in an electric plum suit and stayed completely, catastrophically certain of himself.
Caleb was standing in a suite with no audience. He couldn't say the same.
Maybe knowing you were lost was better than pretending you weren't.
Right now, he was lost.
Being just a man. Not Mr. Christmas. Not America's sweetheart. Not whatever the network needed him to be this quarter.
Just this.
I'm alsojust a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.
Jesus Christ.
He took a step closer. The bass thrummed through the walls. Muffled laughter from the booth carried faintly.
"Out there—" He stopped. Started again. "You weren't performing. I wasn't performing." He looked at her. "It's just—real. And I want—" He shook his head. "I want that."
"Then be real with me. I want to know you. Not Caleb Hart: Heartland star. You."
Caleb exhaled. "Okay. I just—I want in. Not as the lead. Just… in."
"Good," she said. "Because there isn't one, but I won't let you disappear either."
"Good," he said hoarsely. "Because I don't want to."
