Chapter 25

25

G ennie stared at the photo on the small screen in her hand, bile rising in her throat.

What the actual fuck?

Her hands shook and a sick feeling threatened to knock her over. The room spun, and she had to grip the table for support.

How the hell had this happened?

Before she could even begin to make sense of it, Nathan’s phone blared to life. He shot an annoyed glance at the screen, his face twisted with irritation. ‘Fiona, what do you want? Can’t you take a hint? I’m busy.’

Cold dread knotted in Gennie’s chest. Was this about the photo? She held her breath, watching Nathan’s face morph from annoyance to bafflement.

‘What do you mean “back in business”? Fiona, I told you a hundred times, I’m not interested in your business.’

Steeling herself, Gennie took a shaky breath. The kitchen was suddenly claustrophobic, the scent of coffee and pancakes nauseating.

She had to tell him. Had to show him.

But every fibre of her being screamed in protest. This was his worst nightmare come true, and he had every reason to hate it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘No, Fiona. I don’t understand. I haven’t… What the hell are you talking about?’

Gennie forced herself to get up from the chair and drag her jelly legs to the counter where he was standing. Without a word, she held up her own phone and slowly lifted the damning photo into his line of sight.

A picture of her and Nathan kissing outside the Tayside Arms.

Their intimate, tender moment. Captured and splashed across the internet for the world to see.

And the headline? Not just a gross exaggeration, but also pure venom.

MacMillan’s Midlife Crisis – Former Teen Idol Cosies Up With Mystery Woman Half His Age

Nathan’s face drained of all colour as he stared at the image. Fiona’s tinny voice yelped through the speaker like a rabid Chihuahua. He hung up without a word, his eyes burning into Gennie’s.

‘What… What the hell is the meaning of this?’ he ground out.

Gennie saw the storm raging in his eyes. ‘I…I don’t know. I honestly don’t.’ Panic and dread swirled in her guts. This wasn’t happening. She rushed to explain, her words a frantic jumble. ‘It must have been paparazzi. They must have been there for Zarah, an A-lister. I—’

She broke off. Everything was imploding around her, and she couldn’t make sense of it.

Nathan’s face was a weather report gone rogue. Shock blew through first, followed by confusion. Hurt flashed in his gaze, then anger crashed in. Gennie felt like she was watching a thunderstorm unravel right before her eyes.

The scariest one she’d ever seen.

His gaze darted back to the photo, then to Gennie, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He gripped the edge of the counter so tightly she was surprised it didn’t crumble to dust. His eyes narrowed to icy slits.

‘Was it you?’ The accusation in his voice slapped her right across the face.

‘Wait… What? Me? You don’t think I…‘ Her stomach sank, the room tilted on its axis. She stumbled back and bumped against the table. ‘What exactly are you—’ The words lodged in her throat.

His lip curled in a pained sneer. ‘Yes, you. I don’t recall being with anyone else lately, do I? And it was you who chose the venue, after all. So who else—’

‘No, I didn’t do a damn thing!’

‘Spare me the show. Fuck!’ He buried his face in his hands, then looked up at her with broken eyes. The uncertainty in his gaze was replaced by cold, steely resolve.

‘ You leaked those photos to the press, didn’t you? You wanted your acting break. Your fifteen minutes, your mansion, your dresses, didn’t you? What better way to get your name out there than a bit of gossip, a bit of P-fucking-R? You’re no better than Imogen.’

Hurt and frustration burned in her chest. Didn’t he know her better than that? How could he doubt her so easily? Disbelief and betrayal ripped through her like razor wire. Her eyes landed on the photos of Abby plastered all over the fridge. For a minute, the fight drained out of her and her posture crumbled under the weight of his accusations. ‘How can you even think that, Nathan? I would never put you through that. Or Abby.’

But his gaze had turned arctic. He wasn’t himself. His past had him firmly in its grip. ‘You should get ready for an Oscar because your acting is impressive.’

Every syllable was a twist of the knife buried in her heart.

Agony scratched her chest, and her mind screamed at her to shut down, to protect herself. The sting of rejection, of her own impotence, burned like acid. She straightened, and a flicker of defiance sparked within. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. ‘When would I have had the time?’ she shot back, voice rising. ‘I was with you every minute—’

His expression darkened, and the walls of suspicion shut down like a portcullis. ‘Aha. And what exactly were you doing while I was sleeping?’

The accusation and pain in his eyes, the way his fists clenched and unclenched, told her all she needed to know. He’d let his guard down, and now he felt betrayed, deceived. She stared at him, her mind spinning. He wasn’t thinking straight. Did he honestly believe she’d used their relationship for her own gain? The very thought made her want to vomit.

‘Oh my God, you’re serious.’ She closed her eyes. ‘You actually think I tipped off the paps? That I’d stoop so low to boost my career?’ A shaky, humourless laugh escaped her. ‘You’re out of your mind, Nathan. This is your paranoia talking. I don’t want to be a star. I actually like my job. I just want…more and better jobs. More security.’

Anguish flickered in the depths of his eyes, the deep fear of betrayal had consumed him. He’d built these walls to protect himself, to shield Abby.

And Gennie had no clue how or why it had happened.

‘I don’t know what to think anymore, but I know you should leave.’ His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. The frigid words punched a hole clean through her chest and pulverised her heart.

’No. Nathan. Just listen to—’ She reached for him, desperate to make him see reason, to make him understand that she would never hurt him, never betray his trust. That she’d rather cut off her own arm than be the one to rip apart the fragile bond they’d forged.

But he recoiled from her touch. ‘Get out, Gennie. Pack your bags and go. I have to protect my child. Myself.’ His voice wavered, and the vulnerability behind the words cut her to the core. ‘When I get back from the distillery, I want you gone. And I don’t want to see you again.’

With that, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders rigid.

She watched him go, and her world imploded under the weight of his words. He’d shredded her heart and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do about it. No control, no grip, no rescue.

Your own fault. Why didn’t you secure yourself?

She’d let herself fall too hard, too fast. There was no air mattress, and she’d just crashed to the concrete at a hundred miles an hour.

Gennie had lied to Abby. It turned out there were ghosts whose asses she couldn’t kick. The ones haunting Nathan were too powerful. Even for her.

Gennie perched on the edge of the guest bed like a bird about to take flight. Her eyes drilled holes into the wall, and her mind kept replaying that clusterfuck of a confrontation like a reel of film, each memory a dagger to the heart.

Funny how quickly her Scottish fairy tale had gone tits up.

One minute, she’d been wrapped up in Nathan’s arms, feeling more at home and wanted than she’d ever felt in her life. And the next? Reality came crashing down.

See? Life isn’t a dumb rom-com.

Gennie swallowed the sob that threatened to tear its way up her throat. No way was she going to start blubbering like some love-struck schoolgirl. No, she was Gentlestorm Rivers, and she didn’t need anyone.

How could she forget rule number one? Never, ever get attached. She should’ve stuck to her plan to focus on her job.

With a huff, she hauled her butt off the bed and started packing. She shoved her clothes into the duffel bag. Each item felt like a piece of her heart being ripped out, but she ignored the pain. She’d survived worse.

A lot worse.

As her fingers felt the cotton of Nathan’s t-shirt, the one she’d worn last night, she paused. Memories flared through her mind like strobe lights, mixed with flashes of past hurts, of being discarded and ignored, left to fend for herself – it all came back. Blood rushed to her ears, her palms sweated, and her breath was shallow. This pain was a physical thing radiating from the centre of her chest until her entire body thumped with it. She clutched his shirt as she fought to anchor herself in the present.

This wasn’t then.

This was now.

She pressed the fabric to her face, inhaled deeply, and for a moment, she was back in his arms, safe and cherished. Nathan’s scent – all pine and juniper and the promise of home.

All wrong.

All gone.

‘Get a grip, Rivers.’

She chucked it into her bag anyway.

You stole my heart, I steal your stupid shirt.

It took her less than five minutes to pack. She’d learned to travel light. With the bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way through the house. Her steps were heavy, but she held her chin high.

When she passed Abby’s room, the prick of tears stung in her eyes. Gennie hadn’t planned on getting attached, but the little munchkin had wormed her way right into her silly, useless heart.

The door creaked open to reveal her room, toys strewn about. Gennie stepped in and scooped up Abby’s beloved pink rabbit Pimpa, hugging it to her chest. ‘I’m so sorry, Abster,’ she said, the words catching in her throat. ‘So, so sorry.’

She walked over to the tiny desk. With a shaky exhale, she grabbed Abby’s markers and scribbled a picture of Abby and herself, hands clasped, smiles wide. The act of drawing that simple sketch felt like trying to squeeze her heart through a keyhole. Gennie had to stop and press a hand to her sternum. She lingered for a minute and drank in every detail – the scent of bubble gum shampoo, the fairy costume, the string lights on the ceiling.

I miss you already, little pal.

What was she about to lose? What would their future have looked like? She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. No use dwelling on what might have been. That ship had sailed, and she was left standing on the dock, watching it sink on the horizon.

With a tattered sigh, she rose and put Pimpa on Abby’s bed. Time to get the hell out of here, to put as much distance between her and this mess as possible. She turned to face the empty hallway.

Gennie gripped the strap of her bag tightly as she stormed towards her rental car.

Screw this. Screw him.

She was better off on her own.

She’d learned that lesson a long time ago. Gennie was done with being weak, done with letting people in – only to have them rip her heart out. She was going back to being self-sufficient. From here on out, it was her against the world again. It felt like slipping back into a wet, scratchy coat. But at least it fit.

Hands shaking, Gennie fumbled with the car keys. She managed to unlock the door and collapse into the driver’s seat. The sudden silence was suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. And then, the floodgates burst wide open. Hot, angry tears that burned her eyes and blurred the world outside.

Gennie slumped forward, forehead pressed against the wheel. Every breath was a struggle, frayed gasps punctuated by the occasional hiccupping sob.

‘Pull yourself together, Rivers,’ she mumbled to herself and scrubbed at her tears with the heel of her hand as if she could erase the evidence.

Where was she supposed to go now? The thought of sleeping in her car again made her stomach heave. Childhood memories of cold nights came back. She felt small, defenceless.

Asking for help went against every instinct she had, but tomorrow was her first day back on set, and she couldn’t show up looking like a used tissue. Hating herself a little more with each passing second, she snatched up her phone and punched in Darius’s number. The line rang once, twice, before he picked up.

‘Gennie, what’s up?’

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a mortifying croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Darius, I need a place to stay. Can you…help me out?’

‘What? Yeah, of course. Where are you?’

‘I’m…I’m at the main house. Glenwood Lodge. But I can’t stay here.’

Silence, then the clicking of a keyboard. ‘I’ll arrange for you to stay in Chloe’s old room at the Bed and Breakfast in Blairdrocky or something. It’s already been paid for. Silver lining of her going into rehab, I guess. It’s not far. Can you get there?’

‘Yeah. Thanks, Darius. I owe you one.’

‘Hang in there, Gennie. We’ll figure this out.’

Years in the business had obviously taught him not to ask too many questions. She ended the call and sat there, phone in hand. A spark of hope glimmered in the haze of despair. At least no jacket pillow tonight. Small mercies.

With a deep breath, she started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

The gloomy fall landscape mirrored her mood. She drove on autopilot, her thoughts tangled up in a mess of emotions. The road ran through the Perthshire countryside, lined with towering trees. The tarmac stretched forward and disappeared into the distance where the green of the trees met the golden hues of a large field, dotted with round bales of hay. Overhead, the sky sagged under the weight of ominous clouds that seemed to be hell-bent on scratching the earth.

Tomorrow, she’d be back on set. Back to the grind. But how was she supposed to concentrate on work with her heart beating over broken glass?

Consciously loosening her death grip on the wheel, she forced herself to take a deep, cleansing breath.

After ten minutes, the B&B on the outskirts of the small town came into view. The stone building looked decent. Infinitely better than a night in her car.

Gennie pulled the rental around the back and cut the engine, letting the stillness wash over her. Her phone chirped, and a message from Darius confirmed that her room was ready and waiting. She glanced at the screen and nodded, feeling a flicker of relief. Work was the only thing that made a lick of sense right now. She tried to think about her job, about tomorrow.

But Nathan’s face kept popping up in her mind. Oh, how she wanted to hate him for hurting her. But all she felt was bone-deep pain. And Abby… She already missed her laughter, the way it filled a room. Her endless stream of questions, like when she wanted to know if the moon followed her home at night. That kid had a knack for making the world feel lighter, brighter.

She missed it all more than she cared to admit.

Why couldn’t Nathan see she’d never betray them?

She pressed a hand to her stomach, the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat beneath her palm. Before she could think better of it, Gennie reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered over Nathan’s name. She hesitated, then pulled back. Not yet.

Maybe never.

Nope, probably never.

Snatching up her duffle bag, she kicked open the car door and got out. The wet, cold air was a welcome reminder that she was still alive. In spite of everything. She marched towards the house and squared her shoulders.

Letting Nathan go, letting them both go? That was the hardest stunt she’d ever have to pull off.