Boyce was still rambling on about Hugo’s notes in relation to being a little more clipped and rigid when I was doing my police work scenes—apparently, I’d been too fluid with my movement for his taste—but my eyes were on something else.
Camilla and Levi were standing close at the craft table, and there was a light in both of their eyes. I’d tried to stop myself from counting his smiles, but he’d already curled his lips more times than he had in the entire few months I’d known him.
And Cam wasn’t exactly taciturn.
Fire raged inside my chest, licking and jumping from its origin at my heart and settling into the pit of my stomach. My jaw felt sore from the unconscious tight clench, and my hands grew clammier by the minute.
With iron willpower and a professional pep talk, I did my best to keep my attention on Boyce.
“I pushed for you to get this role, so I really need you to focus on…”
Levi reached over and grabbed Cam’s elbow, and my whole body tightened.
Goddammit.
I didn’t want to be jealous.
I didn’t want to think about how at ease he was with her and how agitated he got with me, comparing the two on an endless loop. I didn’t want to feel like my heart was shredding as I watched them chat and smile at one another, and I didn’t want to feel myself getting angry with Cam all over again.
But she’d listened to me spill my heart about everything this morning—she’d cried with me as we’d rehashed weeks’ worth of torment and a whole lot of heartbreak.
She’d understood. I’d thought she understood.
Why the hell is she doing this to me?
A sob threatened at the base of my throat, and I’d finally had enough. I cut Boyce off and jumped up from the makeup chair in a hurry. My makeup artist looked at me with sad eyes, painfully aware of how run-down I was on an intimate level.
There wasn’t much you could hide from the person assigned to cover the dark circles under your eyes.
“Excuse me,” I told Boyce, steadying my voice as much as I could manage. “I have to use the restroom.”
I didn’t look back as I shoved past the still-droning producer and headed straight for the bathroom.
Once inside, I locked the door and walked to the sink to look myself over in the mirror. Half made-up, contouring in place without being blended, I looked like a walking freak show. A startled laugh bubbled from my lips and turned into a hiccupping cry.
Fucking hell, I desperately wanted to splash my face with water.
But we were already behind schedule thanks to my late arrival, and having to start my makeup over from the beginning would take too much time.
Spotting the paper towel dispenser two sinks down, I furiously grabbed a handful and ran it under the tap until the brown material soaked all the way through.
I pressed it gently to the heat in my chest, hoping it would calm the fire at the source and spread to my face with time.
It calmed the edges of the rage, but unfortunately, it didn’t make it all the way to the root. Frustrated, I threw the wet ball of paper into the garbage and grabbed another handful, cleaning up the sloppy mess my attempt had left behind.
Steeling my nerves and looking myself in the eye, I made a promise. A promise to focus on myself for the rest of the day instead of my sister and Levi. A promise to give the best damn performance of my life.
A promise to get the hell out of Cold as soon as this movie was done.
Resolute in my newfound inner strength, I gathered myself and unlocked the door. When I swung it open, Cam was standing there waiting for me.
“You okay?” she asked, and my acting experience kicked in.
“Fine,” I advised, half in answer to her, half in a reminder to myself.
“Okay, well, Brad is waiting to finish your makeup, and Mariah called about—”
Immediately, my brain went into overload.
“Can you just handle the Mariah thing, please?”
Her eyes softened, and the corners of her mouth turned down at the grit in my voice.
“Just…whatever it is…please?”
She nodded immediately, dutiful and fully aware of my ricocheting emotions. I wasn’t angry with her—I knew my sister better than that—but I didn’t want her in my face either. If she left me alone and dealt with Mariah, it would serve two purposes.
“Thank you.”
“Sure,” she murmured, lifting a hand and giving me a squeeze on my upper arm. Her touch felt steady and grounding, and I relaxed into it a little. I didn’t understand the science behind it, but Cam and I had a connection that superseded most others. No matter the rift, no matter if she was part of the reason for my chaos, she always calmed my disquiet.
I settled as she moved away with her phone already up to her ear, and I headed back to the makeup chair.
Brad, bless him, didn’t say anything about my abrupt departure, and instead, went right back to work on my face with tight lips as soon as I sat down. I pulled my script into my lap and intently studied the first scene we’d be working on.
Carly Best’s and Victoria Carson’s bodies had been found on the same day, on the same property. We’d be moving to location for the shoot just outside of the main drag through town, but the winter weather kept most of the prep work before shooting here in the old town hall building.
I had both a trailer in the parking lot—for when the hours of shooting ran longer than the span of a normal day—and a small dressing room with nothing more than a table and a bar-height chair—where I could find a few minutes of solace in between scenes.
A cup of coffee entered the space between my script and my face, and the powerful aroma was like an instant hit to my nervous system.
God, I really needed this—
“I thought you could use a cup,” Levi’s rough voice said softly, curling around the edges and touching notes I’d never heard him use before.
Apparently, yelling used a different page of sheet music.
My stomach turned.
Levi’s eyes softened as I accepted the cup, and I held them purposefully. I forced myself to live in the pools of blue, swim there until they heated and flashed.
And then, with a flick of my wrist, I moved the cup from my lap and dumped it directly into the trash beside my chair.
Brad’s eyes widened as my gaze skirted past him on the way back to Levi.
My throat constricted on the words as I forced them up, but the effect only added to the brittle break in my declaration. “No thanks.”
I expected a flare of anger—Levi’s usual flash in the pan—but instead, his lips curved into a small smile. “Some other time, then.”
A growl rattled in my throat as he walked away, and Brad’s eyebrows rose all the way to his hairline.
“Don’t ask,” I insisted. “It’s complicated.”
Brad’s smile was indulgent, but his voice was taunting. “Oh, honey. It must be.”
I fought the urge for a full minute before turning to look for Levi again, but when I finally looked, my need was desperate.
The room was full, but his back stood out like a beacon.
Only then did the realization hit me.
It really was complicated.
It wasn’t a simple situation where I hated Levi and left him in the dust. I couldn’t just avoid him at all costs and concentrate on other things.
It wasn’t over.
Because for as done with Levi Fox as my head was, my body was still charging in the other direction.
But for today, at least, I could make-believe.
One day at a time, I would pretend. And then, at the end of production, I would leave.