Chapter Fifteen

Vale

I stare at Coco's message, an uneasy feeling coiling in my gut. "My mom and I got a hotel tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

The words blur as I read them for the hundredth time. I'm happy Coco's spending time with her mom, but something shifted between us the moment we got home. I can't shake the feeling that her mom's surprise visit isn't entirely to blame.

Did I weird her out with my bedroom request? I'm such an idiot for letting my guard down. Flames, I wish I could just talk to her.

I pace the small kitchen, the walls of Coco's tiny apartment suddenly feeling too big and empty. Even that crabby ankle-biter is gone. Coco and her mom took her when they went to lunch, leaving me without even the dog as a distraction. My gaze lands on a framed photo of Coco and Mariah, and my chest tightens. When did this place start feeling like home?

With a sigh, I set my phone face-down on the counter and return to the dishes. Keeping busy is the only thing keeping me sane right now, but Coco's place is frustratingly tidy. There's barely anything left to clean.

The phone's shrill ring sends the dinner plate I'm washing splashing back into the sink as I lunge across the counter. Coco?

No such luck. Erin's name flashes across the screen, mocking me.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Hi, Erin." I can't even fake enthusiasm right now.

She launches right in, steamrolling over any pleasantries. "I talked to Aria's manager. We decided we're soft launching your relationship at the movie premiere. My assistant's sending you the details—"

"Wait, what?" My mind reels, struggling to catch up. "I can't be in a relationship. I'm m-married." The word catches, but I'm beyond caring if Erin notices my stutter.

She scoffs. "A couple months ago, you were pretty adamant you weren't. It's just PR, Vale. Let's be real, you're not cut out for small-town life. Remember why you left Winter Piss in the first place?"

Her words hit like a sucker punch, but I grit my teeth. "Maybe I like this life better than the one you're selling, Erin."

"Oh, please," she says with a humorless laugh. "You'll be bored in a month. And when this little rom-com of yours inevitably ends, where will you be? No career, no connections. Just another has-been with small horns."

Fire sparks at my fingertips, and I clench my fist to extinguish it. "You're wrong. About me, about Coco, about all of it. Besides, fans would be pissed if I left my wife for my co-star.” I’ve got her there. Fans are currency in Hollywood.

"That's the beauty of it. Focus groups show you're testing higher as a bad boy than a heartthrob, especially after that statue stunt. You showing up with Aria cements that image. My assistant will—"

"No." It comes out weaker than I intend, and I wince.

The silence that follows is deafening. "Excuse me?"

I swallow hard, steeling myself. "I said no, Erin.”

"Valefor," she hisses, "do I need to remind you how much effort we've put into your branding? Do you want your career to tank before your first movie even premieres?"

The question catches me off guard. Of course I want it to succeed, but at what cost? The memory of Coco's laugh, warm and genuine, flashes through my mind. When was the last time anything in Hollywood felt that real?

Erin pounces on my hesitation. "Listen, Vale. I don't know if you've been playing house too long or if there's something in the water there, but you need to get your head out of your ass. I've worked too hard to let you sabotage yourself." Her voice softens, dangerously sweet. "You want that nerdy little sci-fi project to happen, don't you?"

My breath catches. Does this mean she actually read the script?

“Then stop throwing a tantrum and grow up. I've got good news for you anyway. Your lawyer just called. You're free to finish your community service in LA. You can leave Winter Bliss tonight if you want.”

My heart skips a beat. "What? How?"

"Does it matter? This is your chance to make your career. Don't screw it up. I've already booked your flight. A car will pick you up at eight. Be ready.”

“Did the judge approve this?”

“I don’t know, Vale. You’ll have to ask your lawyer. All I know is that you’re coming home.”

I should feel elated, but instead, a heavy weight settles in my chest. "Erin, I—"

"Save it," she cuts me off. "Details about the premiere and your debut with Aria are coming. We’ll talk when you get here."

"No," I say, my voice stronger now. "I'm done pretending, Erin. I won't do it."

The silence that follows is deafening. When she speaks again, her voice could freeze hellfire. "The car will pick you up at eight. Be ready or else.”

The line goes dead. I stare at the phone, a strange mix of terror and exhilaration coursing through me. I finally stood up to Erin, whether she accepted it or not—I did it.

For the first time in years, I feel . . . free.

And yet, I'm stunned. I’ve just said no to everything I wanted when I first arrived in Winter Bliss.

I need to see Coco. Now. It's time to figure out what's real. As I grab my jacket and head for the door, I realize with startling clarity: I'm not just acting anymore. This feeling, this life—it's what I’ve been searching for in every character. And I'm not ready to let it go.

I arrive at the Emberlight Resort, my heart pounding. Through the glass doors, I spot Coco in the lobby, Mariah curled in her lap. She looks exhausted, dressed in sweats I imagine she borrowed from her mom, but to me, she's never been more beautiful.

As I approach, the space between us feels both infinite and too small. I want to rush to her, to hold her close and forget about everything else. But something in her posture, in the tight set of her shoulders, holds me back.

"Coco," I breathe, relief washing over me. She hoists Mariah into her arms and stands as soon as she sees me. When I pull her into an embrace, Mariah growls, squished between us. I inhale deeply, the scent of hotel shampoo in Coco's hair filling my nose.

Her hug is brief, almost perfunctory. As she pulls away, I search her face, trying to read the emotions flickering behind her eyes. "Are you okay? How did everything go with your mom?"

She presses her lips into a line before offering a weak smile. "Yeah. Things are great. I took your advice and told her everything. She took the news surprisingly well."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Everything?"

She meets my gaze directly and nods once. "Everything."

The weight of that single word hangs between us. Mariah whines, and Coco sets her down, the dog immediately investigating the lobby carpet.

"Let's sit and talk," Coco says, motioning to a secluded booth near the coffee bar. The short distance to our seats feels like crossing an ocean. As we settle in, Coco on one side and me on the other, the space between us seems to grow even wider.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself. "My manager called. She says I can return to LA and finish my community service there."

Coco's expression flickers—relief? Disappointment? She forces a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "That's great news—"

"I told her no," I interrupt. "I'm not going."

She blinks, confused. "Why? I don't understand. This is what you want. What about your movie?"

I shake my head firmly, reaching for her hand across the table. “I don't care about the movie. I can't leave. What about the clinic?”

Coco looks tired as she laces her fingers with mine. "The clinic will be fine, Vale. It will be fine because of you and all the work you did."

"No, I can't leave. You still need help. You haven't hired any extra staff." What I really want to say is I can't leave you. I refuse to leave you. But the words stick in my throat.

"I'll be fine," she insists. "My mom can help out while I look into hiring staff. She was only staying until the New Year, but I'm sure my dad won't mind if she extends her trip." She pauses, her next words hitting me like a physical blow. "I'm just glad the judge listened to my request. Now you'll get to go to the premiere."

I freeze. "What are you talking about?"

"Judge Grimshaw. I talked to him this morning and asked him to let you go to the premiere. He told me no originally, but then he changed his mind."

It feels like a gut punch. I know she was trying to help, but I wish she hadn't. I shake my head. "Coco, I can't go. I won't."

"You're going, Vale." She squeezes my hand as tears fill her eyes.

"Come with me," I beg. "We can make this work. You can start a clinic in LA—"

She shakes her head, tears now spilling down her cheeks. I lean over the table and brush them away with my thumb. "I'm not finished here, Vale. My patients need me. You need to go."

Tears spill over my own cheeks. I don't care that I'm crying in public. I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave Coco. But I don't know how to make this work.

"Vale, I need to ask you something," she says in a quiet voice. She unlaces her fingers from mine and shoves her hand in her pocket, leaving me feeling cold.

"Anything."

Her mouth works. She brushes her hand over Mariah's fur. I can hear the little gremlin already snoring. It takes her a long time before she can find the words. "Did you burn the bench the judge made in honor of his late wife?"

My blood turns cold. I lower my eyes, staring at the freshly shined booth counter with the cursive E in the middle. "Yes." My voice is low.

She makes an expression I can't quite read. I don't think honesty was what she was expecting. I can't lie anymore—I need to face the truth, no matter how much it hurts. "Why?" is all she manages.

I sigh, stretching my fingers on the counter. I can't meet Coco's eye. "Judge Grimshaw was the head judge on the scholarship panel," I start. Telling Coco the whole truth is hard, but it's also freeing in a way. Even though it'll make her hate me more, I can't hide anymore. "And when I lost that scholarship to the academy, and my parents had to pick up more work to make ends meet, leaving me alone at night, I was really angry. I acted out in ways I regret. I wanted to make the judge hurt the way he hurt me."

I pause, gathering courage to continue. "I didn't know the bench was for his wife, not until after it was too late. All I knew was he had made a new bench for the park, and I didn't see the inscription until after it was too late." I manage to look her in the eye. Her blue eyes are clear, locked on me. I feel weak under her intelligent stare, but I refuse to look away. "I've made a lot of mistakes, but that is one I regret the most. If I had known—I was a dumb kid, and I didn't know how to undo the damage. But I'm not like that anymore, Coco." My chest tightens at the words. Am I different? I destroyed that statue with my friends because I was angry and wanted to cause pain to those who hurt me. I wince, waiting for Coco's reaction.

She doesn't say anything at first, just pets Mariah slowly, thinking.

I lean across the table. "Coco," I whisper, "please say something."

"I’m sorry for the little boy who carried around so much anger. I’m glad you’ve come to regret it, though I’m not the person who needs to hear it.” She pauses for a slow, unsteady exhale. “I think it's time to go. You don 't want to miss your flight," she says in a thin voice.

"But what about us? What we have here?" I'm not above begging.

"Vale, we're adults. We knew this fake marriage would end eventually. You’ve heard the statistics—ninety nine percent of fake marriages end in fake divorce.” She manages a crooked, tearful smile. I want to laugh, but it hurts too much.

She pushes up from the booth, Mariah cradled in her arms. Silent tears run down her cheeks, but she keeps her chin up and proud. "I can't wait to watch you on the red carpet," she says, her voice breaking. "I'll be cheering you on from home."

"I lied about something else," I say suddenly. My last Hail Mary. "I've seen Quantum before. After I lost the scholarship, and my parents had to pick up more work—I used to watch it every night. It was the only show that didn't make me feel alone. It's why I went to LA in the first place. I wanted to work on the set."

She stares at me a long moment, the absurdity of my words shocking her so much she briefly stops crying. She tilts her head. "Why would you lie about that?"

I fold my hands on the table, my mouth working. "I don't know."

"Well, did you?" When I lift my head towards her, she clarifies: "Did you get a job on set?"

I exhale a long breath. It doesn't matter. I could tell her I played every character, and it wouldn't change her decision. Even if it did, I want her to choose me. Not some character I pretend to be. “Yeah, I did. My face didn’t get any screen time, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere,” I say, playing it off and letting her assume what she will, that I was on crew or an extra who got cut.

She stares at me, unsure what to make of this conversation. Finally, she wipes her cheeks, looking towards the elevators. She forces a fake smile, but I know she's holding back more tears. "Bye, Vale."

I stand, facing her directly. My heart is breaking into a million pieces. But I know deep down, she's right. LA may not be home, but neither is Winter Bliss. There was a point where I thought it could have been, but there are too many ghosts. There is no compromise here. "My offer still stands. Be my date to the premiere."

She looks away shyly. "Have a safe flight, star traveler." She gives me a wet kiss, and I can taste the salt from her tears. I linger, wishing we could stay like this forever.

She's the first to break away. Before she leaves, I crouch down to Mariah's level. The dog looks away, pretending I'm not inches from her face.

"Goodbye little rat. I'm going to miss you," I say, rubbing between her ears. Mariah sticks her nose in the air indignantly. But before Coco turns away, the dog turns to me and licks me quickly with her tongue. I guess she'll miss me too .

I can feel my heart breaking as I watch Coco walk across the lobby and disappear in the elevator. It looks like I’ll be heading home back to LA after all, but I couldn't care less because it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Coco and that little dog are my home. Wherever they are, I belong. I just wish she felt the same way.

As I turn to leave, the weight of everything—my past, my career, and what could have been with Coco—settles on my shoulders. I realize that no matter where I go, a part of me will always be torn between two worlds. But for now, I have to face what's ahead, even if it means leaving my heart behind in Winter Bliss.

T he cab drops me off at Coco's house—our house. My phone buzzes: The car to the airport arrives in twenty minutes. I should be packing, but I can't bring myself to unlock the door. This might be the last time I ever step foot inside.

My feet, as if possessed, carry me towards Grimshaw's porch. Before I can second-guess myself, I've rung the doorbell. The security camera light blinks on. He’s seen me—too late to run now.

Grimshaw answers, his expression unreadable. "Valefor. Shouldn't you be on your way to LA by now?"

"Why'd you do it?" I blurt out. "Why change the terms of my probation?"

He sighs, rubbing the base of his horn. "It wasn't about you. Coco made a compelling case."

My heart twists at her name. "I thought you hated me," I mumble, suddenly feeling like that awkward, spiteful kid again.

"Hate?" He shakes his head. "No. Disappointed, maybe. The monitor is government property, by the way. It stays here. Come with me."

In his garage, I can't help but stare at the tarp-covered bench in the corner. Grimshaw works in silence, removing the monitor from my horn.

"I'm sorry," I finally say. "About your wife's bench. I was a stupid kid."

He pauses, then resumes working. "Yes, you were. And I was a grieving man with anger enough to spare. You didn’t deserve all of it."

"Do you remember my scholarship essay?" I ask. At his nod, I press on. "I didn't lie. Those sources existed."

Grimshaw frowns. "Vale, we checked—"

"They disappeared," I interrupt. "Did you ever consider Principal Ambrose might've been involved?"

While I was researching my topic in the academy's library, I spent months studying the archival journals of different residents who lived during Alaric's time. Those journals revealed the truth about what a scummy person he really was. But after I was rejected, when I went back to verify my sources, they had magically disappeared. The librarian couldn't even find a link to the journals in the system or any information about where we had requested them from the grand archives in Boise.

I'm certain Ambrose had something to do with it, but I had no proof. Insisting that I was right, and he was wrong, only made me look more like a liar. The requirements of the essay specifically stated that Ambrose wouldn't be involved in the judging, but I know he influenced the panel's decision—whether they realized it or not.

His hands still. "Ambrose is a respected—"

"He's not who you think he is. Trust me."

Silence falls, broken only by the screwdriver's rhythm. Outside the garage window, snow begins to fall, mirroring the coldness spreading through me. I cling to the numbness, it’s much better than the alternative.

"There," Grimshaw says, removing the monitor and dropping it in his pocket. "You're free to go."

I stand, hesitating. "About the bench . . . Let me make it right. I could help rebuild it, or pay for—"

"When you come back to your wife, maybe. We'll see."

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me. "Vale? I'll look into what you said about Ambrose. Maybe it's time for some changes around here."

I study him, stunned. "I . . . Thanks, Judge. "

Walking away, I feel Grimshaw's gaze on my back. A small weight lifts from my shoulders. Maybe we've both misunderstood each other all these years.

As I head back to pack, the numbness begins to crack. The heartbreak I've been holding at bay threatens to overwhelm me. But for the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of hope for my relationship with Winter Bliss, even as I prepare to leave it behind.

T he relentless Los Angeles sun beats down on me as I exit another lifeless interview to promote the movie. I can’t believe this is what I was so excited for—being asked the same question over and over again by different people. It’s the definition of insanity. I squint at the palm trees lining the street, their unwavering perkiness grating on my nerves. How had I never noticed how fake everything feels here?

My phone buzzes—another message from Erin’s assistant. I’m late for our meeting. Erin’s been anxious to meet with me since I’ve gotten back, but I’ve been putting it off as long as possible. Better fire up the hyperdrive and face my destiny, as Thraxxius would say. With a sigh, I redirect my path to her office. As I walk, my mind drifts to Winter Bliss. When I left, the town was blanketed in snow, strings of twinkling lights adorning every storefront. I imagine Coco, her mom, and Mariah cozied up on the couch, drinking hot chocolate and playing that bastardized card game her family loves, and my chest aches with longing.

The sleek, modern interior of Erin's office building feels cold and impersonal as I step inside. I steel myself for another battle, determined to stand my ground this time.

Erin's assistant waves me in without a word. I slump into the chair across from Erin's desk, suddenly exhausted. She sits before me, a vision of Hollywood power in her crisp white blazer and perfectly coiffed blonde hair. Not a single strand is out of place, much like her carefully curated image of success. Her red manicured nails tap an impatient rhythm at the keyboard on her glass desk.

“I’m here. As ordered,” I sigh, not bothering to hide my lack of enthusiasm.

Erin looks up from her computer. Her piercing green eyes narrow. She stops typing and turns slowly in her chair to face me. "Well, I went through all that trouble to get you back to LA and this is how you repay me? Not even a thank you?"

I bite back a snarky retort. Please. She barely lifted a red-polished finger. It was Coco who did all the work, but it’s Erin and her lawyers who are taking the credit. "What did you want to see me about?"

"We need to go over the details about your soft launch with Aria next weekend at the premiere. My assistant said you never opened the email. Why haven't you read it yet? "

I take a deep breath, reminding myself of the promise I made to be more authentic. "Because I told you already. I didn't read it because I'm not interested. I won't date Aria, even for PR. I’m serious, Erin. I’m done pretending.”

Erin's sigh is exaggerated, theatrical. She should really take up acting. "You know, usually my clients have a few major blockbuster movies under their belts before they put on the diva act. Now, I know you obviously don't care how well your movie does, but at least think about your nerdy project. Remember if your career does well, we have more of a chance to convince others to back it."

My heart leaps. I straighten in my seat. "Does that mean you read it?"

"Of course," Erin says, a little too quickly. "I thought it was great—"

I narrow my eyes, studying her face. "You haven't read it, have you?"

Erin sputters, her composure cracking. “I'm a busy woman, Vale! You can't expect me to read every damn script that crosses my desk. My assistant read it, and she told me it was great—”

I pull out a copy of the script from my bag, sliding it across her desk. “I want you to read this, right now.”

"Excuse me?"

"Go ahead, read it, just the first ten pages. If you do, then I'll agree to fake date Aria for the premiere. We have . . . what? An hour blocked out for this meeting? That's plenty of time."

Erin stares at the script, then back at me. I can see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she sighs. "You know what, Vale? I've put up with this charade long enough. I’m sorry to tell you we’re never going to sell that script, honey. I don't care how good it is, no one wants to watch a space show. They're too boring."

I nod slowly, a strange calm washing over me. "You’re fired."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You’re fired." The words feel liberating as they leave my mouth. "Why would I keep a manager who doesn't align with my goals? I thank you for your time and effort—you and the whole team. But I want a manager who treats me like a person—who sees my full potential—not just some item to sell."

Erin's face turns an alarming shade of red. I didn’t know humans could turn that shade. "You've got to be fucking kidding me—Well, good luck finding new management, especially after that article came out. No one wants a stuttering idiot with a track record of destroying historical property.”

I raise my eyebrows, caught off guard. "What?"

A malicious grin spreads across Erin's face. "Oh you didn't see? Well, maybe if you actually read your damn email—" She turns to her intercom. "Arlo, bring in this month's copy of Fae every secret I've fought to bury now exposed for all to see.

And yet, I don't give a damn.

The realization washes over me like a wave, leaving behind a strange sense of peace. I don't even bother finishing the article. Let them see. Let them know. I'm not that scared kid anymore, desperate to hide who I really am.

My eyes do catch one last detail, though—a footnote mentioning Ambrose's recent dismissal from his job. I can't help but smirk at that. Karma's a bitch, isn't it, old man?

I look up, meeting Erin's expectant gaze, and push the magazine back to her, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. I finally got the Fae & Famous spread I always wanted.

"Good thing there’s no bad press, right?" I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.

Erin's jaw drops as I push to my feet. "Where do you think you’re going?”

I straighten my jacket. “My apartment?” I stop myself before I say home. It may be where I sleep, but it’s not home. I left my home in Winter Bliss. "I'll see you at the premiere, Erin. And who knows? Maybe you'll see my 'boring space show' on TV someday.”

As I walk out of her office, head held high, I feel lighter than I have in years. For the first time since leaving Winter Bliss, I'm excited about the future. I may not know exactly what's next, but I know one thing for certain—I need to get this project off the ground. I have no idea how, especially since I no longer have the support system of a management team, but all I know is I need to do it. For myself, and most importantly, for fans around the world who care about the show—fans like Coco.