The week before they were set to leave for the convention, Shane grabbed a quick coffee with Dean during a break on set. They’d barely seen each other lately—Shane spent most of his nights at Lilah’s, and even when he was at his own place, Dean was scarce.
There was a slight frisson of awkwardness between them as they placed their orders, Dean visibly distracted, answering Shane’s questions with terse one- or two-word responses.
When Dean went to the bathroom, he left his phone sitting on the table. It buzzed and lit up, Shane’s eye drawn to it automatically.
It wasn’t like he wastryingto snoop. But even upside down, he could read his own name in the text message preview.
RENATA:Have you told Shane yet?
Shane’s heart skidded in his chest. He turned the phone toward him, rereading it right side up, just to be sure. But it still said the same thing. Immediately, he flashed back to the night before he’d left for Vancouver—how evasive Dean had been about who he was going to dinner with, how elusive he’d been since. Was it possible he’d taken his flirting with Renata to the next level?
He looked up to see Dean approaching the table, his brow already creased when he saw Shane with his phone.
“Are you sleeping with Renata?” Shane blurted out before he could stop himself.
Dean frowned even deeper, incredulous, as he snatched his phone out of Shane’s hand and sat down again. “What?No, I’m…I’m her client now.” He delivered the last part without looking at Shane, his defensiveness giving way to embarrassment.
Shane blinked. “You’re herclient? Since when?”
Dean shrugged, still avoiding his eyes, and sipped his coffee. “A few months.”
“And you just weren’t going to tell me?”
“I was waiting until I booked something.” Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Shane realized his mouth was hanging open, so he forcibly shut it. “Why?”
“You mean, why didn’t I tell you?” Dean raised his eyebrows sardonically. “Maybe because you were more willing to jump to the conclusion that I was banging her than working with her?”
Shane felt his face heat but didn’t say anything. Dean continued. “And if you mean, why am I working with her…” He looked down into his cup. “Don’t get me wrong, man. I’m grateful to you for bringing me out here, for setting me up with this gig all these years. But…you were right that day, even if you were a fucking asshole about it. I can’t just keep following you around, being your shadow forever.” He glanced back up, meeting Shane’s eyes. “And I don’t want to be your excuse, either.”
Shane frowned. “My excuse?”
Dean smirked, shaking his head. “I know you. You’d take a job you hated just so you could bring me along. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’tneedit. Whatever you do next, I don’t want you worrying about me to be a factor.”
Shane’s throat tightened. “Right.” He took a sip of his coffee to stall for time, settling into this new reality. To his surprise, his annoyance had already begun to fade, replaced by something that felt a lot like pride. And only the slightest twinge of jealousy that Dean felt so optimistic about pursuing a future that Shane had never felt more ambivalent about. “So, what has she been sending you out for?”
Dean’s face cleared, the last traces of apprehension dissipating. “Mostly commercials, so far. Some modeling stuff. Renata says I’d be great for unscripted, but she’s still looking for the right fit. And I’ve been taking acting classes on the weekends. Improv, too.”
“That’s great,” Shane said, with unforced enthusiasm. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen you get this excited about anything work-related.”
Dean grinned. “Believe it or not, this is slightly more appealing than scooping ice cream at Braum’s or standing around waiting for them to set up the lights for you.” He raised an eyebrow. “But can your ego handle it?”
Shane laughed. “I think I’ll survive.”
28
In the weeks leading up to the convention, it was easy for Lilah not to dwell on it too much. She was too wrapped up in Shane, filming, Shane, hunting for her next job, and Shane. But before she knew it, they were boarding a flight to San Francisco, checking into their hotel, clutching their itineraries as they rode the elevator up to their suite in silence.
Their schedule wasn’t too demanding—meeting fans and signing autographs in the morning, the panel in the afternoon, a party in their honor at night—but it was all crammed into a single day, rather than spread out over the weekend. She was preemptively exhausted by the emotional energy it would take to beonall day, meeting hundreds of fans, second-guessingeverything she said, ensuring no one walked away disappointed while still protecting her own boundaries.
But, of course, now that she and Shane were together, she hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to do it. She didn’t want to be apart from him a minute longer than she had to. Plus, the fact that he would be by her side the whole time was enough to ease some of her nerves. She’d had an emergency session with her old therapist the week before, working through every possible worst-case scenario in excruciating detail, coming up with strategies to calm herself without resorting to drugs—but with a freshly refilled prescription of benzos in her purse just in case.
She slept fitfully, waking up long before her alarm, lying there wrapped in Shane’s arms as he snored softly next to her. At breakfast, she was able to choke down some coffee and most of a banana before her stomach tightened like a fist. She pretended not to see Shane’s worried expression as he watched her.
