Page 82 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

“You just can’t take all that on yourself, girl. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But people are getting hurt.”

“Who exactly is getting hurt?”

“Knox, Eli and Cash. Henry.”

“Your Grammy,” Jules adds to the list. “I know you’re still thinking that her death is your fault.”

“But it’s true. I could’ve been there for her if I wasn’t so busy filming all the time.”

“I get that,” says Jules, taking a sip of whatever she’s drinking. “But I’m sure your Grammy was so happy that you were happy.”

“Posing in front of a camera pretending to be,” I respond, dread pooling in my gut just thinking about it. “I let Grammy down, and now I’m wrecking another… family.” I suppose it’s more of a brotherhood, but that word doesn’t seem appropriate to use right now—tensions are still high among the guys after what happened between all of us.

“As I keep saying, there’s still time for you to feel better about all this. Reclaim your voice in the sequel. Kick some ass in it and show people what you’re made of.”

I feel like doing that would be like signing myself up for the worst kind of humiliation.

I change the topic, sick of talking about responsibility and a movie I don’t want to be in. “I didn’t tell you yesterday when we were talking, but Holden texted me.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jules says. “What did he say?”

“All he said was what the fuck.”

“Please tell me you ignored him?”

“Of course. Do you seriously think I’d reply?”

“Not really, but I figured I’d check,” says Jules. “He’ll be sliding back into your DM’s soon—don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He trashed me like rotten fruit and never looked back until he saw my ass on display, which means this peach must still be in season.

A photo is all he’s getting though, and there’s nothing very exciting about it since the rest of the world also has access to it.

It turns out that he’s really not very special. I have the full package—three of them, to be exact. And they don’t need any special oils or toys to make me come.

But he’s still Holden fucking Gray and my heart is still programmed to jump every time I see his name. I used to crave his texts and calls, and became obsessed with writing his name in my journal a hundred times before bed, sleeping with it under my pillow. It was a manifestation ritual I did almost every night.

Yeah… I was that much in love with him, so of course I’m still thinking about his text. My body still aches when I think about the filming for Hearts For You. The sex scenes. The sinking feeling in my chest when I flew back to LA, still single as a Pringle.

I think about him getting on one knee in front of Valentina, and the horrible grief resurfaces. It’s not as heavy, but it’s still there. My body still remembers him. Of course it does. He was on my mind every freakin’ day for years.

The smell of fresh ground coffee drifts under the door, calling my name.

“I got to go, Jules.” She’s been talking about a party she’s going to this weekend, and I was only half-listening.

“Promise me you’re coming back. Please, please, please…”

My stomach churns, and the smell of coffee suddenly makes me nauseous. “I’ll be back. At some point.”

“Soon?”

“Um,” I murmur, jumping out of bed.

“You have twenty-three days until the filming starts. The production team wants you there four days before so they can start prepping you.” Jules pauses. “Do I need to remind you again about learning your lines?”

“I’m on it.”