“Yup—she’s coming back too. We start filming in Atlanta in July.”
“That’s exciting. But aren’t you booked?”
“I have a small part in a movie coming up but I talked to them and they think they can have my stuff done by early June, which is plenty of time.”
“You think they want me to come back for another one-line cameo?” I tease. I literally appeared in one episode andspoke one line of dialogue as a bartender asking what the main characters wanted to drink.
“If you genuinely want that, I’m sure I can make it happen.” She pauses. “I’ve been hooking up with Gregory Shill.”
“For real?” I ask, chuckling. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since he reached out to ask me to reprise my role. It just happened.”
“And?”
“Nothing. I mean, it’s fun but I don’t harbor any illusions that he’s the love of my life. So, if you want me to put the bug in his ear, I can do it.”
I haven’t wanted to be in the spotlight in a few years but a one-line part on a popular TV show would be fun. Something different. And it seems like I could use something different right about now.
“If it’s possible, great. If not, no big deal.”
“I’ll talk to him this week.”
“Thanks, Lacy. You’re a good friend.”
“And I meant what I said—if you want me to come out there, or meet you in Denver, or whatever, I’m happy to do it.”
“I’ll let you know.”
We talk another few minutes before I disconnect.
Then I sit there for a long time thinking about our conversation and a million other things that have been on my mind.
Short-term, I’m fine.
Long-term, I think this ordeal is going to catch up to me one way or another and I need to find a way to make sure I’m prepared. I’m neither naïve nor stupid; I know I went through something traumatic and I can’t just will it away.
At some point, I’m going to have to work through it all.
But I have no idea how.
Chapter Thirteen
Landon
Sleep usually comes easy to me. When I was in the military, we learned to rest any time, any place, for however long we could. And I’m one of those people who can doze off almost anywhere. Four hours is all I need to function, and six is like a vacation. On the rare occasion I sleep longer than that, I tend to store it up to use when I need it. It’s just the way I’m wired.
It’s about one in the morning and I’m just dropping off to sleep when a noise from the bedroom startles me. My eyes pop open and I wait, listening. It sounds like Allora’s talking to someone. She must be on the phone again, so I close my eyes and am just about to sleep when I hear it again, but this time it’s more like a cry.
I sit up. I know there’s no one in there with her—I have security sensors on all the windows—which can only mean one thing.
Slowly, I get to my feet and pad soundlessly across the room, pausing outside the bedroom door to listen. I don’t want todisturb her if she’s having a good cry, but I also need to make sure she’s okay.
“No! Stop!” Her cries are louder and filled with fear now, and I open the door without thinking.
She’s thrashing on the bed, arms swinging, head turning from side to side, and I can’t bear to watch her suffer. Even if it’s just a dream.
I sink on the edge of the mattress and gently grip her shoulder. “Allora. Honey, wake up.” I shake her a little but she’s still crying out, shaking her head, and smacking my hand.
