Chapter 3

3

AMITY

I smile at the empty campsite. Movie sets tend to be chaotic, so coming back here to nothing but peace and quiet will be heavenly.

But then I hear the sound of an approaching car and sigh. I spoke too soon.

I turn and watch as a cherry-red Honda SUV comes into view, and a big old grin splits my face.

I know that car.

The car stops a few feet from me, and the driver's door flies open moments later. As soon as Nevaeh's out of the car and her eyes land on mine, she runs toward me. And I can't help but do the same. Meeting her halfway, we collide, our arms wrapping around each other as we both laugh and cry.

"Your boobs are suffocating me," she says, her words muffled. I chuckle as I pull away, and she looks up at me. I'm not exactly a giant at five-six, but then, everyone's a giant to Nevaeh.

"Don't act like you don't love motorboating me."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, it is the only action I get."

"That's a lot of pressure, Pippin. If I'm your only sexual experience, I've gotta make it more memorable. Ooh, I know—I could wear a bikini next time."

"I'd end up with a mouthful of your nipple. We might be close, but not that close."

"Don't knock a little girl-on-girl action until you've tried it. You don't know what you're missing," I tease.

"I don't need to try liver to know it's not for me."

"Wait, did you just compare my vagina to liver?"

"What? No. I didn't mean it like that. I meant I've never eaten liver, but I already know I wouldn't like it because of the smell?—"

She freezes, her face turning the same color as her hair, and I try not to laugh.

"Not that I'm saying your vagina smells. I'm sure it's lovely, and… please make it stop," she pleads, flustered.

I can't help it. I lose it and start laughing, tears streaming down my face.

She shakes her head, her lips twitching as she watches me. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Me?" I gasp. "I was just innocently standing here when you started insulting me."

"It must have been the lack of oxygen to my brain when your boobs tried to suffocate me."

"Yeah, that must be it," I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and press my forehead against her temple for a moment.

"Jokes aside, I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too. So, are you going to help me carry my bags in with those big, strong muscles of yours or what?"

I laugh. "Yeah, leave it to me. Pop the tailgate."

She leans into the car to grab the keys from the ignition, pressing the button for the tailgate.

When it opens, I grab her two bags and her large suitcase. Slinging one of the bags over my shoulder, I balance the other on top of the suitcase and wheel it over to my RV.

"Did you have any trouble getting here?"

"This is me we're talking about."

I turn to look at her with a raised eyebrow. Not only is she vertically challenged, she's directionally challenged, too.

"Fine, I may have gotten lost once or seven times."

I grin but look away before she notices. "Well, you're here now. That's all that matters."

I carry her things inside and put them in the bedroom. "You can sleep in here, and I'll take the couch."

"I'm smaller. I'll take the couch."

"I'm not exactly a giant, Nevaeh, and besides, the couch converts into a bed."

"Good. Then I'll be extra comfy."

She stands there, tapping her foot with her hands on her hips, daring me to argue. She might be a pushover when it comes to her father, but she never backs down from anyone else.

People think that because of the way I look and my job, I'm the wild, outgoing one. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I'm the quiet one. I enjoy my own company and can easily go days or even weeks without interacting with another human being—well, except for Nevaeh, who calls me incessantly until I answer, of course.

Nevaeh, on the other hand, is a total social butterfly, basking in attention like a plant soaking up the sun. She's funny, stubborn, sassy, and sometimes pretty feral, especially when she hasn't had her coffee. She's an angel at heart. But there's a demon inside her that loves nothing more than to cause chaos and start trouble.

Trouble that I usually end up dealing with for her. We are each other's yin and yang. I'd take a bullet for her in a heartbeat.

"Why do you have a weird look on your face? Do you need a poo or something?"

"No. I was thinking about how I'd take a bullet for you."

A huge smile spreads across her face. "The world would be a sadder place without me."

"This is true, oh humble one." I chuckle.

"You know I'd take a bullet for you too, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

She bites her lip. "But out of curiosity, are we talking silver bullets or like Nerf darts?"

"Since I'm not a werewolf, I think silver bullets are unlikely."

"Sooo… Nerf darts, then? Yeah, I'd totally take a bullet for you."

I shake my head, laughing. "Alright, John McClane, how about we go do some exploring before it gets dark?"

"You mean out there in the woods, where there are bears and bugs and serial killers?"

"I knew my mom messed with your mind, making you watch those movies."

"Are you kidding me? Your mom was the best. Some of my favorite memories are of the three of us piled into her bed watching old movies like Psycho and An American Werewolf in London ."

She goes quiet for a moment. I know it's because she still feels guilty that she got to make memories growing up when her sister didn't get to grow up at all. That she feels like she's betraying her every time she laughs or smiles.

I pull her in for a hug.

"My father went ballistic when he found out she'd let me watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre when I was fourteen. He thought the movie was inappropriate and would give me nightmares, but none of the movies we watched ever bothered me. You know why?"

"Because the monsters we needed to be afraid of weren't on the screen; they were out on the streets where we lived," I say quietly. I get it. After what happened, we were both desensitized to the scary movies that terrified everyone else.

"Exactly. He didn't get it then, and he still doesn't get it now. You know what does scare me, though? Living in that house with the ghosts of my sister and my mom. I'm scared that I'll end up like them—stuck there forever—because all I want to do is leave. But my dad insists I stay."

I pull back and cup her face. "Move in with me."

"I…what?"

"Move in with me. It's time. You can go home to visit whenever you want to. But if you don't leave now, you never will."

"But my dad?—"

"Will still be in the house where you left him. You just said that yourself. He'll keep doing the same things he's been doing for the last fifteen years because that's the life he's created for himself. But, Pippin, you deserve more than that. You deserve to explore the world and find your place in it."

She bites her lip, looking unsure, but I can see hope in her eyes.

"You live in an RV."

"I know. Awesome, right?"

"It only has one bedroom."

I shrug. "It has two beds."

"What about work?"

"I've got Wi-Fi, and you can work from anywhere. Come on, Nevaeh. You know you want to."

She looks like she might puke, but I don't let go. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. You're right. If I don't do it now, I never will."

"I'm proud of you." I smoosh her cheeks before letting go.

"Don't be. I'm terrified."

"I'm proud of you because you're terrified, but you're doing it anyway. Now, let's explore, and we can talk some more later."

"Okay, let me just change into my sneakers, and I'll meet you out there."

"Sounds good." With that, I head to the kitchen, pull out a backpack from the overhead storage, and start filling it. I grab a couple of bottles of water, a handful of cereal bars, some bear spray, my gun, and a first aid kit—just in case. With Nevaeh, it's best to prepare for anything.

"Okay, I'm ready. This is just a regular walk, right? Not one of those spur-of-the-moment hikes you like to spring on me," she asks, eyeing my backpack.

"Nope, just a regular walk. These are just some supplies."

She narrows her eyes at me, so I open the bag to show her that I didn't sneak a tent and sleeping bags inside it. I only did that one time, dammit.

"Bug repellent." I pull the bottle out from the side pocket, then grab the canister from inside and hold it up for her. "Bear repellent." I shove it back in my bag and pull out the gun. "And serial killer repellent."

She eyes the gun with a nod of approval. My mother took us both to the shooting range —another thing done behind Andrew's back—insisting that women needed to be able to protect themselves. Though Nevaeh isn't a fan, she can handle a gun.

"Works for me," she says. "Let's go explore, then get something to eat. I passed a few places on the way here that might be good."

"You came through town? I took the back roads. I didn't want to attract any attention. There'll be plenty of that when the rest of the crew rolls in tomorrow."

"Yeah, this thing doesn't exactly blend in. From what I saw, there isn't much there, but we'll make it work. I'm not sure how the fancy movie stars will survive, though."

"Good. Maybe they'll go somewhere else to party."

She snickers, knowing how I feel about celebrity parties. It's bad enough when I go to the wrap parties. Everyone knows I only go because I have to.

"You know people would kill to be in your shoes, right?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, because my life is so glamorous. Trust me, I'd rather hang out with you and a bear or two than deal with the Hollywood elite."

She looks at me skeptically.

"You'll see," I warn her. It won't take her long to figure people out—especially Monica Miller, the female lead on this project. I've done stunt work for her before, and she was the definition of a diva. Her sense of entitlement was so twisted that it was laughable. But since I liked my job and wanted to keep getting booked, I kept my opinions to myself.

I lock up the RV, slip the keys into my pocket, and pull the backpack onto my shoulders. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"That's the spirit."

We walk for a few miles, taking in the scenery and stunning views before stopping so Nevaeh can take a break.

I hand her a cereal bar and a bottle of water. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she pants, taking the water. "But unless you're going to carry me, we might want to head back. If we go much farther, I might die." She unscrews the cap and takes a drink.

"Dramatic much. Anyway, that's fine. I really just wanted to see if there were any other campsites around here. I wanted to see how private this place is."

"You say private. I say isolated."

"Potayto, potahto."

"It is pretty out here; I'll give you that. And peaceful."

"I know, right? I think when I retire, I'll park the RV somewhere just like this."

"I think you have a few years before you need to consider retiring."

"You'd be surprised. This job is tough on the body. I'll be lucky if I get another twenty years in."

"Huh. I never really thought about that before. I guess I've always been so focused on your safety, I didn't think about the toll your job takes on your body. I mean, I'm always terrified when you work. It freaks me out that you have no fear. You throw yourself into everything. And out of everything. And off of anything."

I laugh at her scowl.

"Don't laugh at me. I've seen the cuts and bruises, the dislocations, sprains, and breaks you end up with. You're human, not a superhero," she says, taking another drink before handing me back the bottle. "It must take longer and longer to recover as you get older."

I shrug. "I guess so, but I haven't really had the chance to ask anyone. I don't know them well enough to ask and didn't want to be rude. I've only met two stunt people still doing it in their fifties: Jack Evans, the coordinator for the movie I'm about to shoot, and Dean Masters, the guy I worked with on the set of The Harder They Fall . He looked like he could bench press me one-handed without breaking a sweat."

Nevaeh's eyes glaze over as she gets lost in thought. I wait patiently until she snaps out of it and watch as she grabs her phone and opens the Notes app.

"The joys of having a writer for a friend." I sigh. "Let me guess, you just pictured a whole sweaty scene where the hero is bench-pressing the love interest naked."

She mumbles something that doesn't sound like English and continues to type out her thoughts. Finally, when she's done, she looks up at me with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry."

I wave her off. "Meh, I drag you out on spontaneous hikes; you zone out and write sex scenes. We are who we are; I'd say we're even, though it still cracks me up that you're a bestselling romance author with?—"

"Her V-card. Yeah, yeah, I know."

"I was going to say with a pastor for a father, but yeah, that too. How do you even know what to write if you've never experienced it?" I ask as I shove her empty bottle back into my bag.

"I watch porn. Still glad I'm moving in?"

"Heck yeah. And just saying, I have a top-of-the-line TV. You'll thank me later. Though cocks in 4k ultra-HD might put you off them for life."

She laughs, her cheeks turning pink at my use of the word "cock," even though she used the same word seventy-one times in her last book. Seventy-one. I know. I counted.

I hold out my hand to her. "Come on, let's go get dinner."

"Now you're speaking my language."