“Mom is doing okay for now,” Maddie went on, “and if she stops doing okay, then she’s in the best possible place. And I’m officially on winter break, so I can be here the whole time.”
“But—”
“And before you say that I shouldn’t have to be because blah blah you’re the grown-up, I’d be here anyway even if you were here too, because I’d want to be with Mom.”
“But I should still be there,” I said stubbornly. How the hell was I going to concentrate on being a fake duke when my mom was unconscious in a hospital? With a head wound that we didn’t yet know the seriousness of?
“Barb and Kallum said you’d say this,” Maddie pointed out. “So you need to consider whether or not you want to be this boring and predictable.”
I was pacing now, tugging at the cravat around my neck. “I’m not predictable!”
“Youare, and you’re micromanaging this family even though you’re in Vermont for only two dang weeks,” Maddie said. “Stop it. I got this. Barb has got this. And once Mom wakes up, she’ll have this too. So just chilloutuntil I call you again.”
My fingers twisted in the fabric of the cravat as I sucked in adeep breath. I wanted to grab my horse and gallop straight to Burlington, but I had responsibilities here too—responsibilities that also mattered to the family in a big way.
“You’ll call me the minute she wakes up?” I asked. “Or when you hear something from the doctor?”
“Yes,” Maddie said. “Now go away and do acting things. Bye, Nolan.”
Feeling helpless, I hung up and stared at the farmhouse wall. I still wanted to go home, but Maddie was right. Everything was stable now, and I’d already dicked over my cast and crew by ducking out before a scene. Leaving the entire movie would screw things up for countless people, including Bee.
Bee. Shit. I needed to apologize for running out on her while she was on the horse. I knew how nervous she’d been, and I’d meant what I’d said about staying with her the entire time. But as I rounded the corner of the farmhouse to go back to set, my mind went blank.
The well-organized outdoor set that I’d left to answer my phone was gone, and in its place was a cluster of crumpled canopies, a mess of blown-over equipment, and crew members scattered everywhere trying to clean up. In the distance, I could see the trainer walking an agitated Whitneigh Houston around the field.
A riderless Whitneigh Houston.
“Where’s Bee?” I asked Cammy as I got closer, my heart starting to pound all over again.
“The horse threw her,” Cammy said briskly, bending to pick up a canvas chair. “After you left to take your call, there was a big wind and it got spooked.”
“It threw her?” I breathed. A crackling hiss of panic filled my mind.
Cammy took pity on me. “She’s fine, but they took her to get checked out by the town doctor. The rest of the day’s work has been postponed.”
“Where?” I asked, not caring that it was probably unprofessional to ask. I had to see her. I had to know she was okay. “Where is she now?”
The beautiful woman in front of me crossed her arms. “Nein. Nyet. Non.”
“Please,” I begged. “Please.I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
Sunny glared at me. “Sheisokay, no thanks to you and your obnoxious ringtone. And the doctor says she needs to rest.” At the hopeful lift of my face, she added, “All night.”
My shoulders fell. “Are you sure I can’t see her for only a minute?”
“Uh-uh,” Sunny said, snapping her gum. “You’re not her doctor, best friend, or mom. You are a fuckboy and fuckboy visiting hours don’t resume until tomorrow. And that’s only if I decide I’m less pissed off at you.”
Sunny had shut the door behind her when she’d answered my knock, and so I couldn’t even try to peer around her to see Bee in the room. And short of unsexy wrestling, I didn’t see a way to get past Bee’s new bodyguard. Who—according to Cammy—also happened to be our new makeup artist.
I was starting to feel vaguely cursed.
I left Bee’s door with a final apology/plea, which was metwith no mercy whatsoever, and then I went to my own room, where I stood in front of my suitcase for a long minute, trying to organize my thoughts. I decided to halfway pack my things, just in case Maddie called with bad news, and then I sat down and texted Bee. And called her.
And DMed her on ClosedDoors:I’m sorry I wasn’t there during the accident. And that I sort of caused the accident to begin with. Can we talk when you’re feeling better?
There was no answer. And no texts or calls from Maddie—or Kallum or Barb. I even tried calling Isaac and got no answer. It was like everything had gone wrong today and I had no way to fix any of it. All I could do was hold this metal and glass rectangle and hope it eventually lit up in my hand.
The inn’s dining room doubled as a sort of bar, but it was barely used and its bottles were dusty enough to warrant concern. It had also never been staffed that I’d seen, and Stella the innkeeper was nowhere in sight as I came downstairs. So I stuck a twenty under a coaster and helped myself to some bourbon, which I drank alone in the dark, listening to the cheerful Christmas music playing in the lobby as it filtered into the empty room.
