4.Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Hank

June finds me in the backyard, a loose term for the wilderness that exists beyond my house. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting in the dirt watching the clouds roll over the hills, but it must have been longer than I’d like because my body is stiff and chilled when her footsteps pull me out of a daze.

“Whatcha doin’, Hank?” She drops down into the dirt next to me, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs. I’m still not sure how we became friends; she’s a recent transplant to Laketown and used to work for a DA in Denver, two things I don’t like. But June is the only person who actually makes an effort to talk to me anymore. Even if it’s only because someone else asked her to, I appreciate her occasional company. I may like being alone, but loneliness isn’t my favorite thing.

“I’m thinking,” I tell her, stretching out my legs and groaning when my muscles complain. “And getting old.”

“Tell me about it.”

She’s got two years on me but still has a youthful shine about her, not that thirty-four is really that old. My thirty-two is nothing compared to some, but I feel each and every one of those years every time I think about the passing of time. Especially lately.

Time to change the subject. “It’s not grocery day.”

“Nice to see you too.”

My phone starts ringing in the house behind us, and we both glance back. It’s been doing that all morning, and I’ve been tempted to yank the cord out of the wall. It’s probably Mariah with another contract exploitation. My visit to the set yesterday was pointless, no matter how much she told me it was crucial that I make an appearance. Beckett Perretti barely spoke two words relevant to me, instead droning on and on about some sort of new camera technique he was going to make famous in this movie, and my anxiety ramped up until the only thing I could do was run away.

The only good thing to come out of my excursion was meeting Bonnie, even if I still haven’t recovered from that interaction.

When the phone stops ringing, June nudges my shoulder with her own. “Have you been on the internet today?”

“Why would I be on the internet?” The only reason I even have internet is so I can email my manuscripts to my editor, though I’ve been tempted to buy myself a bunch of flash drives and start mailing them instead. It would take longer, but I would have a great excuse to ignore Mariah.

The phone starts ringing again, and I wince.

Sighing, June reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cellphone, swiping to some sort of news article before handing it over to me. “That’s why.”

It’s some stupid celebrity gossip. I roll my eyes, wondering why June would think I would have any interest in something like this. But then my gaze catches on my name, and my heart starts to pound the longer I read.

Oh good lord, there are pictures .

Three of them, taken from a good distance away and zoomed in, but they’re a lot clearer than I remember paparazzi pictures being back when I sort of paid attention to celebrity news. It would be impossible not to recognize my own face smiling at Bonnie next to me. My lungs constrict as I stare at the picture of the two of us hugging. Bonnie’s smile is wide and warm—one of the features that caught my attention yesterday—but combined with the article, this Hollywood Hot Scoop website is implying…

“Breathe, Hank,” June says, tugging her phone out of my hand, which is fine because I’m shaking too much to hold on to it anyway. “I’m sorry for springing that on you, but I wasn’t sure how to prepare you.”

I shake my head, forcing a breath and holding it in my lungs until I start to feel dizzy. I let it out too quickly and try again, this time managing to slowly exhale and gaining a little control back. This panic isn’t new, but it’s been a while since I had to deal with the helplessness that comes from it. “You couldn’t have pre…”

June starts rubbing my back, which isn’t helping but I’ll let her think it is. “Hey, it’s just a stupid tabloid. It doesn’t mean you’re actually dating Bonnie Aiken.”

“Ha!” I tuck my head between my knees and start counting sticks under my boots. “Dating. Right.”

“Oh come on, you could totally date a movie star if you wanted to.”

“Wanted? No. Dating. No.”

June mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “I don’t understand you, McAllister.”

Most people don’t.

After a few focused breaths, I’m feeling less untethered, though my ringing phone isn’t exactly helping the situation. I can at least sit up straight again, even if my thoughts are jumbled up and knotted together.

“When did…?” I nod toward her phone.

“The story was posted last night. I’m surprised you actually went on set.” She spits the word ‘set.’ Not many people in Laketown are happy about the movie filming here. Life in Laketown is usually pretty quiet, but as soon as the first semi rolled in and crushed one of the flower pots on Main Street, most of the Laketownians turned their noses up at the film crew. (That’s what June told me, anyway.) Sure, it’s bringing money into the town, but that’s not exactly a thing people care about here.

They don’t want things to change, and we all know it will. Even if changes to the town itself are temporary, this movie will put Laketown on the map. People will actually come here instead of leaving things quiet and simple. It will be a lot harder to hide, and it’s my own fault.

I shouldn’t have patterned the fictional town of Glacier Falls after my hometown. The first time Mariah came to Colorado, when the studio initially bought the film rights, she realized the connection immediately and made sure to tell every executive she could to ensure the movie was filmed here. In her words, it would be a marketing goldmine.

For me, the impending fame of my town is a nightmare.

Suddenly exhausted, I roll back until I fall into the dirt, sprawled in the weeds and tempted to never leave this spot until the forest swallows me up. I’ll be eaten by mushrooms before winter sets in. “I didn’t have a choice,” I tell June. “My agent made me go to set.”

“But you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

I glare at her amused tone. “Being friendly doesn’t mean I enjoyed myself.”

As my phone takes up its next vigil—honestly, I would have expected Mariah to show up at the house by now—I consider my options here. It’s just a stupid celebrity site, and eventually the world will forget about the pictures. I could easily wait this out. Or I could get my lawyer on the phone and ask him to sue anyone who is perpetuating the story. I don’t think that one will work, but the idea makes me happy.

My favorite idea is the one I speak out loud. “Well, it was nice knowing you, June, but I will be moving to Alaska this afternoon. ”

I’m on my feet before she grabs my hand, stopping me from going inside and tearing my phone from the wall. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

I know she doesn’t believe that, otherwise she wouldn’t have shown me the story. I could have carried on in ignorant bliss until it all became buried beneath the next invasion of privacy for someone more interesting than me. Yes, I’ve written a couple of books that have sold relatively well, but that doesn’t make me famous.

Then again, Bonnie seemed to think I had all sorts of fans. Her reaction surprised me, as did the physical response that came from seeing her. I’ve seen pictures, of course, but an unfiltered Bonnie with no makeup jarred me. She looks so much like Shelby.

It felt like I was looking at a ghost.

“June,” I say, already regretting the question that is working its way out of my mouth, “how popular is that article?”

Cringing, June puts her hand over her pocket, as if trying to hide her phone.

I groan. “So a lot of people have now seen my face.”

She nods.

“They know where I live.”

“I don’t think so. The story doesn’t say anything about Laketown, and I doubt the studio is broadcasting the filming location until after things wrap up. Bonnie Aiken is popular enough that she would draw a crowd if anyone knew where she was. And you can count on the Laketownians keeping it all a secret because as soon as someone opens their mouth, the town will be overrun. It’ll be worse than when the Taylor clan shows up in the summer.”

I shudder. The Taylor family usually only comes to Laketown for a week, but there are so many of them. If one of them wasn’t my old neighbor and a decent guy who knows I like my privacy, I would dread their annual family reunions even more than I already do.

“So you should be safe, is what I’m saying,” June finishes .

That makes me feel a little better, but I don’t like knowing there are millions of people who could now pick me out of a crowd if motivated enough. My anonymity is one of the few things that have kept me sane over the last few years.

Writing is another, and I should really get back to work. After I unplug my phone, of course. “Hey, I need to save someone from being choked to death.”

June hums as she follows me back to my house, though I know she won’t come inside. She’ll need to get back to her hardware store, and I’m just now appreciating the sacrifice she made to come all the way out here and tell me about the article. “Hands?”

“Phone charger.”

“Yeesh, that’s brutal. What if it breaks? I’ve had about a million charging cords break on me, stupid things.”

That could work, and it fits in with the humor I try to sprinkle throughout my books. If they get too heavy, I get dragged down with them, so a balance is crucial. “I’ll try it.” I open the back door and turn to give her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

She lifts a hand. “I’m always down for brainstorming.”

“I mean for telling me about the article. And for being my…uh, friend.” I feel childish, thanking her for that, but when I was fully prepared to live a solitary life, knowing someone cares about me has brought a light into a world that has been ever increasingly dark. “Have you talked to Hope lately?”

“Couple days ago, though she was pretty brain-fried. I hear that the newborn stage can be brutal.”

I’d forgotten about her baby, and guilt starts seeping into my chest. Hope only lived down the road for a few weeks, but she and her husband, Chad, worked their way past my defenses over the course of a snowy weekend. When I have few friends as it is, I should really be better about keeping in touch .

“Hey.” June touches my arm. “I’ll tell her you asked about her, okay? You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

If by ‘fish’ she means dealing with the aftermath of getting caught by paparazzi, then she’s right. “Maybe I’ll come by the store sometime soon,” I tell her. It’s the same lie I tell her every time she comes out here.

She grins. “No, you won’t. See you Thursday with your groceries, Hank. Good luck!”

Luck . Luck is not a thing I possess, unless you count my books. Even then, I don’t attribute their success to luck. It’s all Shelby, and as I cross the front room to yank the phone cord out of the wall, I glance at the second bedroom. I haven’t opened that door in years, and that isn’t going to change, but sometimes I wonder…

The house goes silent as soon as the cord is free, but my ears keep ringing. What is it they say about ringing ears? Someone is talking about you. In my case, it’s half the country, and I can’t help wondering what Shelby would think about all of this.

If she was still alive, she probably would have laughed and told me how lucky I was to be dating a superstar. Then she would have kissed me until the sun came up and blamed me for keeping her awake. And I would have smiled, not caring one whit what the world thought of me because all that mattered was her.