Chapter 13

13

MAZEY

M azey lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim early morning light. She hadn’t been able to sleep, not really. After she ended things with McKenna, she’d thought she would feel relieved, even lighter somehow, as if breaking things off would set her back on track. But nothing felt resolved, and the hollow ache in her chest hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, settling into an emptiness she couldn’t shake. She wanted to tell McKenna she was sorry, to admit she’d been wrong, but every time she thought about reaching out, a weight settled over her, freezing her in place. It didn’t matter now. It was over.

Mazey sighed, pulling herself out of bed before her alarm went off. The prospect of another long day loomed, and she couldn’t decide if it was a welcome distraction or just more noise to mask her feelings. She walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to ground herself. Today, she didn’t want anyone coming to her room to help with makeup or small talk. She wasn’t in the mood for the forced smiles or the scripted reassurances. Instead, she would go straight to set and lose herself in work, pretending everything was fine.

As she dried her face, she remembered today’s shoot. Another dangerous stunt, one she’d be performing in rushing river rapids, dodging jagged rocks, and the risks made her stomach twist. It was a reenactment of the scene where McKenna had come to her rescue the first time, after her safety gear had failed. Even though the scene had gone wrong back then, Mazey felt an odd mix of nerves and a strange kind of nostalgia. It was as if, deep down, she hoped to see McKenna there, ready to catch her again.

Apparently, the studio had asked Firefighter McKenna Adams to supervise the scene today. Mazey’s heart skipped when she heard this, unsure whether she wanted McKenna to accept or turn down the offer. Was this some kind of sick joke? Did the studio not know the rumors that were swirling? Part of her hoped McKenna would come, even if it meant just a glimpse, some reminder of what they’d shared. But another part feared seeing her again, seeing how strong and composed she’d look, how unaffected she might appear. Maybe if McKenna didn’t show up, it would be the sign Mazey needed, a confirmation that ending things was the right choice.

Mazey headed down to the waiting car outside the hotel, shielding herself from the cluster of paparazzi. There were fewer today, though, already drawn to the latest scandal somewhere else. Still, the flashes and noise around her felt louder than usual, reminding her how much she hated the constant buzz, the way every move of hers was a spectacle. As the car pulled away, Mazey looked out the window, hoping for a moment of stillness before the day’s demands began. In the back of her mind, she found herself picturing McKenna—imagining her voice, her steady presence, the way her calm confidence had a way of dissolving Mazey’s anxieties.

The car wound down a narrow road flanked by dense trees, and eventually, the rush of water grew louder, signaling their arrival at the river. It was an intense location: dark water crashing over rocks, unpredictable currents that swirled violently, creating a challenge for even the most experienced crewmembers. People were already bustling around, setting up equipment, testing harnesses, and calling out instructions over the roar of the water. Someone quickly directed Mazey toward the makeup trailer, but as she made her way there, her eyes searched the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of McKenna. But she didn’t see her.

Inside the trailer, the makeup artist greeted her with a warm smile and began working, covering up Mazey’s fatigue with layers of concealer and foundation. Mazey sat in silence, going through the motions. She wished she could ask someone about McKenna, whether she’d shown up or was planning to later, but she held back. She didn’t want to invite questions or raise suspicions. There were already too many rumors swirling around about her personal life, and she didn’t need to fuel them further.

As the makeup artist finished, Mazey took a steadying breath and headed toward the set by the riverbank. She tried to focus on the scene. The director ran her through the sequence, pointing out the different positions along the rocks, the path she’d need to follow, and the timing of her movements to dodge the most dangerous currents. The technicalities felt overwhelming, but Mazey nodded along, doing her best to absorb the instructions.

"Are you sure you’re good with this, Mazey?" the director asked, concern flickering across his face. "We can always use a stunt double if you don’t feel up for it."

"No, I’m fine," she said, steeling herself. "I’ll be careful."

He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just remember, if you feel uncertain, take a step back. We’ve got plenty of time."

She smiled back, but her mind wandered to McKenna. Part of her couldn’t help but imagine McKenna’s voice in place of the director’s, that firm, grounded tone that always carried an edge of concern. She’d wanted to see McKenna today, maybe just to know she still cared enough to show up.

She made her way to the starting point of the scene, her heart pounding as she stood at the riverbank. The currents looked more aggressive up close, the water swirling around jagged rocks that glinted like teeth under the sun. Mazey took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the safety rope attached to her harness. In that moment, she felt a flash of doubt, her mind spiraling back to McKenna, as if she could steady herself by holding onto those memories. She wished McKenna were here, her presence a balm against the nerves knotting in her stomach.

"Ready!" the assistant director called out, and Mazey gave a final nod, stepping into position.

The scene unfolded as planned—at first. Mazey moved along the bank, fighting to stay balanced as she mimicked the struggle of her character, desperately clinging to safety above the roaring current. She focused on her breathing, on the choreography drilled into her. For a while, everything went smoothly. Then, as she reached a critical point, her foot slipped, catching on a wet patch of rock. Her body jerked forward, momentum pulling her faster than she could catch herself. The world blurred as she tumbled down the embankment, hurtling toward the rushing water below.

Panic seized her as she hit the icy water, the chill knocking the air from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, but the relentless current pulled her under, the world becoming a frantic, violent swirl of bubbles and force. Rocks jabbed into her sides and scraped her arms, and she fought to keep her head above water, desperate for air. In that terrifying moment, her mind went blank, save for a single thought: McKenna. She wished McKenna were there to pull Mazey to safety.

But McKenna wasn’t there. Not this time.

Hands reached into the water, gripping her harness and yanking her up toward the surface. She coughed and gasped as she broke free of the river’s icy grip, still dazed but relieved to feel solid ground beneath her. The person pulling her back wasn’t McKenna but one of the stunt supervisors. His face was lined with concern, and his gaze was purely professional, assessing her for injuries as she sat on the bank, catching her breath.

“Take it easy,” he said, patting her back gently as she coughed up water. “You had a close call there.”

Mazey nodded, trying to compose herself. She was soaked through, shivering as the adrenaline faded, leaving her both shaken and oddly empty. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, willing herself to feel something other than dread. A faint voice called from behind, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Ms. Snow, we need to check you over before you’re cleared to shoot again,” someone from the medical team said, motioning for her to follow. She forced herself up, her legs weak and unsteady as she headed toward the trailer where the medics waited.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw McKenna.

McKenna stood by the riverbank, her arms folded and her gaze fixed intently on the rapids. Dressed in her fire department gear, she looked completely in her element, commanding the scene with an air of authority Mazey had never seen before. Mazey’s heart thudded as she approached, unsure if McKenna would even acknowledge her.

“McKenna,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

McKenna turned to her, expression unreadable. “I was asked to supervise the scene,” she said curtly, her tone all business. “Looks like it was necessary.”

Mazey winced. McKenna’s voice was clipped, devoid of the warmth and humor that had marked their last encounter. She tried to muster a smile, hoping a touch of lightheartedness might break the icy tension. “Guess I couldn’t stay out of trouble even if I tried, huh?”

But McKenna’s face remained impassive, her attention already back on the safety team. “Safety protocols are there for a reason. If you’d followed them, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

The words stung, and Mazey’s attempted smile faded. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen McKenna this cold and detached. It was as if every trace of their personal connection had been scrubbed away, leaving only professionalism between them. Mazey wanted to say something to bridge the distance, to at least let McKenna know she was glad to see her there, but McKenna’s closed-off stance made it clear she wasn’t interested in small talk.

As if sensing Mazey’s hesitation, McKenna gave her a curt nod. “You should get checked by the medics,” she said, her tone carrying no trace of concern. “We’ll reconvene once you’re cleared.”

Mazey swallowed, feeling a pang of disappointment. She’d hoped for some flicker of warmth, maybe a private word away from the others, something that reminded her of the connection they’d once shared. But McKenna was all business, and Mazey could feel the wall between them as solidly.

She turned to walk toward the medics, casting one last look back at McKenna, but McKenna had already resumed her duties, gesturing to the crew and discussing the next steps. Mazey’s chest ached as she watched her from a distance. This wasn’t the McKenna she’d known. The one who laughed with her, who teased her, who looked at her like she saw right through the glamour and walls Mazey put up for everyone else.

Once the medics had checked her over, pronouncing her shaken but unhurt, Mazey headed back to the riverbank where the rest of the crew waited. She noticed McKenna off to the side, going over notes with one of the stunt coordinators. Summoning her courage, she approached again, hoping for a second chance at a conversation that didn’t feel so…cold.

“Hey, McKenna,” she began, trying a casual tone. “Thanks for coming out here today. It…means a lot.”

McKenna barely looked at her, her eyes scanning the clipboard as she nodded. “It’s my job,” she replied, moving to another point on her list. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep this set safe.”

The words landed heavily, as if a door had just been closed in Mazey’s face. She felt a rush of frustration mixed with a pang of regret. She wanted to reach out and break down the wall had gone up between them, but McKenna’s professionalism was unyielding. It was clear she wasn’t here as a friend, let alone as anything more.

“Right, of course,” Mazey said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “Guess that’s all I could ask for.”

She lingered for a moment, hoping McKenna might soften or say something to acknowledge their history, even in a small way. But McKenna kept her focus on the clipboard, barely sparing her a second glance.

Mazey forced herself to leave McKenna’s side, her heart feeling heavier with every step. She replayed McKenna’s words in her mind, the tone so cold and distant. The past connection, the playful banter, they all felt like distant memories, foggy and blurred. She hadn’t been prepared for this version of McKenna, who seemed completely indifferent, like Mazey was just another actress needing supervision. As she headed back to the set, Mazey clenched her fists, swallowing the disappointment. She couldn’t shake the longing to see a flicker of warmth in McKenna’s eyes.

The director called her back over, gesturing toward the river. “Alright, everyone, let’s reset and run the scene again. Mazey, take your mark on the bank, and we’ll go from the top.”

Mazey took a deep breath and returned to the starting position by the edge of the river. The crew scurried around, making sure everything was in place, while the stunt coordinators reviewed the safety measures. McKenna was nearby, speaking quietly with the safety team. Despite her earlier cool demeanor, Mazey noticed McKenna watching her closely from across the set, her gaze sharp. There was something in McKenna’s stance, however, that conveyed readiness, prepared to step in if things went wrong. That thought gave Mazey a small comfort, even if McKenna wouldn’t let her see it.

Once the crew signaled the all-clear, the director called action. Mazey fell into character, playing the panicked, desperate struggle to survive. She moved along the riverbank, stumbling, scrambling, reaching for stability while her feet teetered on the wet rocks. She could feel the water rushing beside her, hear the roar of the current, but she stayed focused, determined not to slip again.

But just as she reached the critical point in the scene, her foot caught on a jagged rock, and this time, she couldn’t regain her balance. Her arms flailed as she lost her footing again, and she felt herself tipping forward and sliding down the embankment. Before she knew it, she was tumbling back toward the river, the roar of the current growing louder.

The river swallowed her, and the current gripped her body, dragging her downstream faster than she could react. She tried to steady herself, to fight against the relentless pull, but the water was too strong. She twisted and turned, struggling for air, her breaths coming in shallow, desperate gulps.

In the midst of the chaos, she caught a glimpse of movement along the riverbank. Her vision was blurred, but she saw a figure moving swiftly, a familiar form cutting through the crowd. McKenna. Her heart surged with a mix of fear and hope, knowing McKenna was there, knowing that she would act.

The cold seeped into her bones as she fought to keep her head above the water. Each breath felt like a battle, and just as she felt herself being pulled under again, strong hands gripped her. The grip was a steady lifeline.

“Hold on,” McKenna’s voice came, commanding and close.

Mazey clung to McKenna’s arm, feeling the solid warmth despite the icy water surrounding them. McKenna’s other hand was around her waist, holding her tightly as they fought against the current together. For a brief moment, Mazey forgot about the scene, the cameras, the crew. All she could feel was the strength in McKenna’s arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way McKenna’s gaze remained focused and fierce.

McKenna navigated them back toward the bank, her grip never faltering. Finally, she hoisted Mazey onto solid ground, guiding her up onto the bank before pulling herself up beside her. “Are you okay?” McKenna’s voice cut through the sound of the rushing water, edged with a hint of anger. She looked down at Mazey, her eyes blazing with an intensity that took Mazey’s breath away.

Mazey struggled to catch her breath, nodding as she managed a faint smile. “Guess I still need saving after all.”

McKenna’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to snap back with a retort. But she only shook her head, glancing away, a look of exasperation flickering across her face.

“You could’ve been seriously hurt, Mazey,” she said, her voice low but intense. “This isn’t something to brush off.”

Mazey looked down, a pang of guilt twisting inside her. She knew McKenna was right. She’d been careless and more focused on seeing McKenna’s reaction than on her own safety. But as she looked back at McKenna, her heart ached with the realization that she was here, that she’d saved her without a moment’s hesitation. Despite everything, despite the cold professionalism she’d tried to put up between them, McKenna had still jumped in.

“Thank you,” Mazey whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of the water.

McKenna looked back at her, her expression unreadable, water dripping from her face and hair, and for a moment, Mazey thought she saw a flash of the woman she knew, the one who used to laugh with her, who’d once held her with a tenderness that felt like coming home. But the moment passed quickly, and McKenna’s face hardened again, her professionalism sliding back into place like armor.

“Get to the medic tent,” she said, her tone all business once more. “Make sure you’re cleared before you go back to set.”

Mazey nodded, pushing herself up, her body exhausted and sore from the ordeal. She took one last look at McKenna, who had already turned away, focused on ensuring the safety protocols were adjusted. It was as if the rescue had been just another part of her job, just another task to check off her list.

As Mazey walked away, she couldn’t help but feel a tug in her chest, the ache of unresolved words and unsaid apologies weighing heavily on her. She’d felt McKenna’s strength and presence, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it had been like old times. But now, standing on the riverbank, she realized that if she wanted McKenna back, she’d have to fight for it.

Because even if McKenna acted like she’d moved on, today had proven that the connection between them was still there, buried under layers of hurt and hesitation. And Mazey knew she was done letting it slip through her fingers.

This time, she’d find a way to make it right, no matter how hard she’d have to work for it.