Jake held his breath. Hailey was staring at him like she’d had an aneurysm, her mouth working wordlessly.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

“Brazil?” she repeated. “The country?”

He laughed. “Rio de Janeiro. Carnival. The big Jesus statue.” He chucked her chin. “That place with the parrots from the cartoon movie.”

She didn’t laugh back. “What am I . . . I mean . . . how long?”

“For as long as you can,” he said. “Shooting would be for at least three months.”

She goggled.

“I want you with me,” he said.

“Why?”

He laughed. “Oh, I can think of a few dozen reasons,” he drawled, stroking her skin.

“One would be better,” he thought he heard her say, under her breath. Before he could ask, she pulled away. “You can get sex from lots of women.”

He frowned. He’d freaked her out, he could tell. Why, though? Yeah, it was fast, and it was unexpected. But she wasn’t the type to be afraid of anything.

“Yeah, I can,” he said. “And I’ve had sex with a lot of other people. So have you. I don’t judge you for that, and I’d expect you not to judge me.”

“I’m not,” she said, her tone frustrated. “I’m just saying—you don’t need to bring me with you for just sex.” She smiled weakly. “They’ve got women in Brazil, I imagine.”

“There are no women like you.”

She was breathing, quick and shallow, and her pupils dilated. It was like passion—but it wasn’t, he knew. It was fear, pure and simple.

“I can’t be gone that long,” she said.

“I’ll fly you in as often as you want,” he said. “It’s kind of a long flight for just a weekend, but damn it, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

“You’ve known me for just a week,” she said, her voice reedy, completely unlike her usual husky, rich tones. “This is sort of nuts.”

“I know,” he said. “Ride with it.”

“I . . .” She shook her head. “The sex is great.”

He waited. “But . . . ?”

“You can have it when you come back,” she said, her expression turning stubborn. “If you come back.”

“If?” It hit him like an open-handed bitch slap. “I’ve never asked anybody . . . I’m taking you to a whole other country.” Hell, when he’d had a girlfriend, it’d always been understood: he had his work, she usually had hers. He could go months without seeing someone he was in a relationship with, with the crazy meshing schedules of actors.

Hailey wasn’t like that—didn’t have that problem. And even if she was the next Jennifer Lawrence, he’d do whatever he could to keep her by his side.

“Yeah, you’ve got tons of money,” she said, her voice a little bitter. “And this is a great opportunity . . . for you. If you want to get ahead as an actor, boost your career, I think you should take it.”

That made him frown, for a different reason. It was something his father would say—only nicer.

She nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “I want you to take it.”

He was still stinging from not getting the Mystics renewal. He was heartbroken, he admitted to himself.

Having Hailey with him would cushion the blow, he realized. Was that the real reason he wanted her there?

Don’t try to make this reasonable, a little voice inside him scolded, insistent, just this side of clawing desperation. This isn’t about reason. You want this girl. You are crazy about her.

Do not let her go.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll wing it,” he said quickly, as persuasively as possible. “We’ll hang out on beaches. You could be topless.”

She shook her head. “Tempting as that sounds . . .”

“We’ll have sex in a plane,” he said, his voice low, like a crossroad demon offering the bargain of her life. “In five-star hotels. In a tent on a beach, under the stars. Anything you want, any way you want. Just as long as I can have you.”

“What do you want with me, though?” She shook her head. “What will people think?”

“That we’re incredibly lucky?”

She smiled at that, but her eyes—she wasn’t there. Not yet. “You want me to be an international fuck-buddy?”

“Do you really give a fuck what other people think?”

That seemed to bring her up short. “And who’s going to look out for Cressida while I’m gone?”

He grimaced. He’d forgotten her family. “I can make sure you get back if she needs you,” he said, trying to gloss over the trickiness of those kinds of logistics.

“That would be hours. Maybe days,” she said, not falling for his salesmanship. “That’d be too long, especially if it’s an emergency.”

“She’s a grown woman,” he bit out.

“With a serious illness.”

“And you’re not her mother.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her. “She’s family,” she ground out. She got off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Not that way.”

“You’ll say anything,” she shot back. “Just so you can keep fucking me. Is that it?”

“It’s more than that,” he said, his hand on the door frame of the bathroom. She washed her face, splashing cold water on herself, then pulled on the dress that she’d discarded on the floor the night before. “Don’t try to reduce what we’ve got . . .”

“What have we got?” Her voice was impassioned and sharp. “A week? We don’t even know each other.”

“But we will.”

“We have fucking,” she said. “And a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”

“We have a woman who I care a lot about,” he said. “Who is scared enough to hide behind her sick sister to prevent herself from being vulnerable.”

Her eyes went wide. He saw tears glisten there, and felt guilt crush him like a boulder.

But he meant it.

“We’re done here,” she said. And turned toward the door.

He felt his heart breaking.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he said.

“Don’t bother,” she said, and stalked out like she had that first night—never looking back.

* * *

Hailey had managed to keep it together until she got back home. Thankfully, she’d managed to make it past Cressida’s room without Cressida waking up. She thought she heard Rachel moving around in her room, but Hailey slipped into her room almost silently, then collapsed onto her bed.

The tears started, and didn’t stop. She cried, silently, hugging the pillow to her, stifling any sobs in it.

How can I hurt this much?

It was her own fault. She’d let herself get too close. This wasn’t how she operated, for damn good reason. Lots of women would think she was crazy for passing up on a guy like Jake: rich, handsome, the best sex of her not inconsiderable experience. What the hell was her problem?

It would only get worse. She already felt addicted to him. Out of control with it.

She didn’t want to get hooked on anything she couldn’t keep.

You’re hiding behind your sick sister.

Now, that accusation pissed her off. Still, she was thankful for it, since it underlined exactly what was wrong with the whole offer. She thought he just wanted sex, fun—stuff she wanted, too. If he’d simply said, “Let’s hook up when I’m back in the area,” she would’ve kept the door open for him. But he wanted to cart her off, keep everything on his terms—have her at his beck and call, without thinking about what was most important to her. It wasn’t just a fun spur-of-the-moment fling anymore. It was . . . well, she wasn’t sure what the hell it was, but it wasn’t what she’d signed up for.

You don’t need him, she convinced herself. Or tried to.

She changed into her rattiest sweats and comfiest T-shirt and crawled under her covers. After an hour, she fell into a fitful sleep. She might’ve slept until the next day—except she heard a loud, really loud, squeal coming from Rachel’s room.

She was out of her bed like she’d been shot from a catapult, grabbing the baseball bat she kept by her bed. She sprinted up the stairs, throwing open the door.

She didn’t see anything wrong, she processed as she choked up on the bat’s handle, surveying for any threat. Rachel was just standing there with papers in her hand, laughing like an asylum inmate.

“Who? What? Who?” Hailey spluttered. “Rache, what the hell?”

Rachel laughed. “We did it. Two months, baby. Two whole months. And that’s net!”

“What?” Hailey repeated, still looking around for unseen assailants. “What the hell are you talking about? I got, like, no sleep last night . . .”

“I’ll bet,” Rachel said, her voice still shot through with joy. “I’m talking about the sale. We sold all the books, and the extra stuff—”

“Wait,” Hailey said, holding up a hand. “What extra stuff?”

“I got a bunch of memorabilia from the convention, and the guys signed it, along with some of the Mystics tie-in books I grabbed. We’re sold out of everything.” Rachel looked like she was going to explode, doing a little bouncing, spinning dance. “Everything!”

“And we made enough money to pay rent for two months?”

“Net!” Rachel repeated. She was wearing her work clothes. Hailey remembered absently that it was a Monday. Not that she had any job to go to, herself, Hailey thought. “I got up early to balance the books. We’re doing better than I’d hoped. We’ve got to keep momentum up, but I think pivoting the business, shifting focus from used books to fandoms, is just the boost we needed.”

Rachel’s smile was incandescent. Hailey walked over, hugging her.

“Thank you, Hailey,” Rachel said, hugging tighter before letting her go. “There’s no way we could’ve done this without the guys’ help. Tell Jake thank you from me.”

“Sure,” Hailey said, feeling a stab in the chest, thinking of Jake.

Rachel was too happy to notice her reticence. She supposed she ought to tell Rachel that they’d . . . what? Broken up? That the ruse was over?

Hailey shut down mulishly. Rachel would figure it out. Eventually.

“I’m going to grab some coffee and get to the office,” Rachel said. “Where are you today?”

Hailey frowned. “Nowhere today. But I’m going to look for a new job, something to replace the coffee shop income.”

Rachel’s bright expression dimmed somewhat. “Soon, you won’t have to work two jobs,” she said. “We’ll pull this around. I swear it.”

Hailey shrugged. Truth be told, she’d rather be busy today. Maybe she’d help at the bookstore, and they were sure to have some spillover clients from the convention and yesterday’s promo. If not, she might finally clean out the freezer. It spoke volumes about her state of mind that she was willing to scrub.

Rachel gave her another quick hug, then bolted for the kitchen. Hailey headed down the stairs to her own room more slowly. Now that she was awake—and frightened into wakefulness, at that—there was no way she was easily going back to sleep.

Cressida peeked her head out of her bedroom. “Everything okay?” For as long as Hailey had known her, Cressida was a perpetually light sleeper.

With damn good reason.

“Everything’s fine. The bookstore’s netted two months because of the sale.” Hailey felt her heart ease, just a little, from the look of relief on Cressida’s face. “So there’s that.”

But Cressida was more attuned to Hailey than Rachel was, and her eyes narrowed, scanning Hailey like an X-ray.

“What did you do?” she asked finally, her voice low and suspicious.

“I didn’t do anything.” Hailey crossed her arms.

“Get in here,” Cressida said, dragging her in and shutting the door. “That bullshit might work on Rachel, but we’ve known each other too long. What happened?” She paused, then her blue eyes sparked. “Did Jake do something to hurt you?”

“No!”

Cressida’s eyes glinted dangerously. “I will call Kyla,” she said. “And Mallory, and Tessa. I will activate the whole damned phone tree.”

“He didn’t hurt me deliberately,” Hailey amended. “And nothing physical.”

But yeah, he did something. And yeah, she was hurting.

Worse, she did what she always did when she felt frightened and hurt. She hurt him back.

“We just didn’t work out,” Hailey finished, her voice quiet.

“Spill.” Cressida sat on her bed, looking surprisingly fierce in her fleece pajamas.

Hailey sighed. “I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain. He got canned from the show.”

“Aw, shit.” Cressida’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, that sucks. I know how badly he wanted it.”

“Yeah,” Hailey said. He’d been so disappointed. Crushed. She’d felt that for him, felt terribly for him. She wanted so badly to fix it, and so damned helpless that she couldn’t. “Anyway, it’s not all bad news, I guess. His agent said his phone’s been ringing off the hook since our, you know, story. He’s got another job offer.” She swallowed. “A film.”

“Well, that’s good.” Cressida rallied.

“There’s this hot director that’s doing a shoot in South America. Main actor fell through—he wants Jake.” Hailey took a deep breath. “It means that he’s going off to Brazil. Tomorrow, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Hailey didn’t meet Cressida’s eyes directly, frantically looking around the room instead. “It wasn’t . . . it was just a con, Cressida. Just an act, remember?” She was trying to remind herself, desperately, she realized. “I don’t do long-term. I barely do repeats.”

Cressida growled. “That is such bullshit, and you know it.”

“I have issues,” Hailey said. “Okay? It’s not like I’m unaware that I am emotionally fucked up, especially when it comes to relationships. I get it. So yeah, I might have panicked when he asked me to go to South America with him.”

“It’s a film shoot, not the end of the world,” Cressida pointed out. “Long distance might suck, but he’d be worth it.”

“I think the opportunity could be huge for him,” Hailey said. “Can you imagine? He’d become a huge star. Doing movies all over the world, traveling all the time . . . various shoots, stuff like that. And he owns a place down in Los Angeles.”

Cressida’s eyes narrowed. “Jesus, you’re not even going to give it a chance, are you?”

Hailey shut down. “This is home for me, Cress. You, and Rachel, and the bookstore. You’re my North Star, my constant. I do whatever I have to, to keep you guys safe.” Her chin shot up pugnaciously. “I don’t walk away from that. And I’m sure as hell not going off with a guy who thinks I could.”

“You’re scared, is what you mean,” Cressida accused.

“What if I am? Jesus, aren’t I allowed to be a little scared?” Hailey couldn’t help it. She shouted. She rarely shouted at Cress, but Cressida didn’t usually poke this hard. “Why are you being such a hardass about this?”

“Because you’ve got a great guy who’s in love with you!”

Hailey blanched. “He didn’t . . . we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? Christ, this isn’t a TV show.” She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know me, I don’t know him . . .”

She paused. Actually, he knew her better than most people. She’d trusted him, shared with him—more than she’d shared with anyone outside of her family or their little circle of friends. And he’d told her things about his past. They’d shared a lot in that week.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t be interested in finding out more. Maybe,” Hailey tempered. “But . . . there are so many problems. Too many. I’m just getting used to the idea of being in a relationship at all, and this is like diving into the deep end.”

“Do you do things any other way?” Cressida asked with a little smile.

“I don’t need someone else to take care of my shit.” Hailey stood up, pacing across Cressida’s plush rug, the one she’d hooked herself. It was the Tardis in the French countryside, done van Gogh style.

“Besides, the bookstore’s only got two months’ worth of rent, and we still have a lot of bills,” Hailey said quickly. “God knows what other expenses might come up, and I’ve still got a lot of work to do. I’m not jetting off to wherever and losing my income. I’m not letting him pick up the tab for everything. I’m not getting a goddamned sugar daddy.”

“No,” Cressida agreed. “You wouldn’t.”

“So that’s that. Does it hurt? Sure. But I’ll survive.”

Cressida was quiet for a minute.

“I’m gonna go back to bed,” Hailey said, mentally going over the books she could read to try and distract herself, when Cressida’s voice cut through.

“Please tell me you’re not giving up Jake because of the store.”

Hailey blinked. “I’m ‘giving up’ Jake because we won’t work out,” she corrected.

Cressida’s pale skin was hectic with color. “And you think you won’t work out because you’re tethered here. With the house, with the bills.” Her eyes were almost glowing with emotion. “You’re stuck here because of me.”

Hailey rubbed her hands over her face. “Please don’t make my breakup about you. Okay?”

Cressida pulled back as if slapped. Hailey hadn’t realized it was possible to feel worse than she had, but surprise! Now she did.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, and realized she sounded just like Jake. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not an infant. I’m sorry the agoraphobia is so damned debilitating. It’s not like I haven’t tried—”

“Do not do anything stupid like go outside again,” Hailey said, too loudly, too sharp. “I mean it. I am not up to that shit today.”

Cressida’s eyes went wider, and filled with tears. “Out.”

“Shit. Cress . . .”

“OUT!”

Hailey stepped out, turning. “I didn’t mean it. I . . .”

“You are a control freak, Hailey Jessica Frost,” Cressida said, her voice so low and cold it sounded frozen. “I am grateful to you and your family for taking care of me, but I fucking hate that you feel like you can hide from your bullshit issues because I’m sick.”

With that, she slammed the door in Hailey’s face.

We have a woman . . . who is scared enough to hide behind her sick sister to prevent herself from being vulnerable. Jake’s words haunted her.

“FINE,” Hailey yelled, and went to her own door, slamming it and then throwing herself down on her bed. She hadn’t cried in years, as far as she could remember. She might’ve teared up at a television show or two, but really, that wasn’t how she was wired. Now, hot, angry, heartbroken tears poured out of her like a faucet—the second time she’d wept that morning, and now she was weeping like a damned Disney princess.

She had too many emotions, and absolutely no idea what to do.

* * *

After the blowup with Hailey, Jake caught a Lyft back from the lodge to the convention hotel, where the convention was finally shutting down, packing away memorabilia. He ignored lingering convention-goers, and caught Miles and Simon as they were checking out.

“Hey, dude,” Miles said. “Great event yesterday. Glad we were there.”

“I really appreciate it,” Jake said. They were good friends, with each other, he thought. They were good friends of his, he realized. He really, really wished that he could’ve done more with them, with the show. He was going to miss them. He had a lot of acquaintances, but not a lot of people he’d genuinely call friends . . . people he’d ask a favor of, like he had of them.

That shook him, a little.

“Want to grab breakfast?” Miles said, missing his little epiphany.

“I want to get the hell out of this town.” Simon grunted. “But I could use some fuel first before going back to Vancouver. We’re skipping Seattle and just heading back. Four-hour drive, ugh.”

Jake swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Breakfast sounds good.”

“Come on,” Simon said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I know a place nearby that’s pretty decent.”

They went to a local joint in Issaquah and thankfully weren’t recognized.

“So, here’s to a first successful convention,” Simon said, raising his coffee cup. “Fingers crossed, it’s the first of many.”

“I’d love to go twelve seasons or more, like Supernatural,” Miles admitted. “I think Mystics has legs. The writing’s solid, the story line is different, and the showrunner’s great. And we’ve got some great stuff coming up next season, by the way. I think my magic gets bumped up.”

“I thought I heard Sarah mentioning something like that,” Simon said. Sarah was the head writer, Jake remembered. Simon then glanced at Jake. “I heard that they’ve got some good stuff lined up for you, too. Miles and I have been lobbying.”

Jake took a deep breath, pushing the egg scramble around on his plate. “You heard wrong, buddy. They didn’t renew my contract.”

“What?” Miles said, eyes bugging out. He was loud enough to have several other diners staring at him. “That’s crap! I know that they like you on this show.”

“That has to be the stupidest decision I’ve ever heard of,” Simon muttered darkly. “Seriously. This is bullshit.”

Jake felt his chest warm for the first time since Hailey had shot him down and stormed out. “It’s been that kind of week.”

“And you’re just going to take it?” Simon leaned forward. He was normally the jovial one, the devilish one. Now, he was stern, almost somber. “Damn it, Jake. You can’t let them just . . .”

“Let them?” Jake repeated. “It’s their fucking show. What am I supposed to do?”

“Fight for it!” Simon snapped back.

“I’ve fought for plenty,” Jake said, thinking of Hailey—of how he’d tried everything, only to fail and push her away. “Did it ever occur to you that sometimes, you just lose?”

“Not when there’s no good reason!” Simon pointed at him with his fork. “You’re great for the show. They’re finally figuring that out. If you let them cut you, you’ll both regret it. Are you really going to just slink away, tail tucked between your legs?”

“What the hell do you want me to do?” Jake snarled. “Go up to the producers, get in their faces, demand that they sign me? What, because I’m such a big star?”

Simon didn’t back down an inch. “I’m not saying be a dick, Jake. I’m saying find out what the hell’s really going on, and figure out a way around it! You’re not even going to try talking it out?”

“Guys, I’m serious, this can’t be right,” Miles interjected, before Jake could address Simon’s caustic remark. “I was talking with the writing staff. They really, seriously want to work with you. We were talking about adding more jokes. You’re funny,” he said, in his forthright, gentle way.

Jake couldn’t help but smile. “Well, the deal must’ve fallen through after they had that conversation.”

Miles’s eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, did your agent say about the deal falling through?”

Jake sighed. “That I wasn’t a big enough name. That I wasn’t the right direction for the . . .” He paused, what Miles said finally clicking. “Wait. You said that they were going to expand my part?”

“Sarah said it herself.”

Miles was tight with the writing staff, Jake knew. He suspected Miles might want to be a writer, himself. But that went against what Susie had told him—that they didn’t think he was a good fit for the show.

“If that’s the case . . .” Jake frowned. “What the hell did change their mind? It wasn’t like I was asking for more money. I jumped through fiery hoops to show them how badly I wanted to be on the show.”

What happened?

“You could ask them yourself,” Miles pointed out.

“What?”

“They’re over in North Bend today. That’s what Sarah told me, although I think that was supposed to be a secret. That’s not far, is it, Simon?”

“It’s totally not,” Simon said, grinning. “It’s like fifteen minutes away. Do you know where they are?”

“Sarah said they were talking with the mayor,” Miles said, surprising Jake further. “Probably going to do something like scout locations for an episode or something. Let me text their admin, see where they are.”

“So, Jake,” Simon poked, “you gonna go handle this, or keep being a punk?”

Jake shot Simon the finger, causing him to laugh. He threw some money down on the table. “I’m going to go handle this.”

“Atta boy,” Simon said, then reached into his pocket. “Here, take my car. Remember: don’t be a dick, but don’t walk away until you figure out what the hell happened.”

“And get back on the show!” Miles added.

Jake nodded. He had nothing to lose. This was what he really wanted—and it would put him four hours closer to Hailey. He’d been a punk there, as well: he respected her decision, but he wasn’t going to give up on her that easily, either.

This was the future he’d seen. And both were worth fighting for.