“Maybe it’s better to be bored together?”

“It is,” I say, kissing her neck once more time. She’s calm now, the wild ride behind us. “It is. Stay here in my trailer and rest if you want. Or go for a walk on the lot. I can get someone to take you around?”

“No,” she sighs. “I’m gonna go home and cook, I think.”

“Yeah?” I’m surprised. She’s never cooked for me before. In fact, she doesn’t do much of anything for me. So this is a good sign. I smile and play with her hair. “What will you make?”

“What do you like that I can make at home?” She turns a little so she can look me in the eye.

“Steaks?” I don’t give a fuck what she makes. She can serve me peanut butter and jelly for all I care. I just want her to be happy.

I don’t think she’s happy.

I’m not enough to make her happy.

“I can do steaks.”

“Good.” I get up and shove my dick back in my pants. then reach for her hand and bring her to her feet and then pull her shorts back up. “I can’t wait to come home.”

“What time will you be?” She looks up at me and her eyes have that lost look in them I’ve become used to.

God, she’s so vulnerable right now. Her request is almost a plea. I hate leaving her home alone. “Eight? Maybe?”

“Oh.” She’s disappointed. I can tell. But we work long hours when we’re filming. It costs money to pack things up and quit for the day. “OK. I’ll see you at eight.”

I hold her hand as we walk outside and then she gives me a little wave as she heads in the direction of the attendant responsible for her while she’s on the lot. She gets in the golf cart and pulls a pair of sunglasses on. But I catch it.

A fingertip slides up under her glasses to wipe her eye. Like she’s crying.

The golf cart takes off and I’m just about to go after her when I hear them calling for me.

She just needs time. That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Time heals things.

I guess that’s true. Time healed her after the first incident. But it’s different now. She was a child. Children are resilient. That’s what they say, anyway. Children bounce back.

“Mr. Asher?”

My assistant is right up next to me now. “Yeah, coming.”

I know Grace is still sad about how things ended back in Nebraska and it makes me feel helpless. Because there’s no dollar amount that can fix this for her. There’s no gift, no vacation, no promise that can fix this.

It’s up to her now. All I can do is make sure no one else interferes with her recovery. And so far, that’s going great. Buzz backed off. No other new sources have turned up.

So why do I feel so sure that something’s coming?

“Mr. Asher?” my assistant asks again as I stare at the disappearing golf cart.

“Right.” I turn away and follow him back inside.

Chapter Six

#NotGoodEnoughToBeAStupidWhore

“GRACE?” he whispers in my ear. “You awake, sweets?”

This must be our new thing.

“Grace? You want to come have lunch with me again today? Only this time we’ll really eat?”

“No,” I mumble from under the covers.

“Are you sure? I’d love it if you came to the set today.”

“No,” I say again with more conviction.

“OK. Well, dinner last night was delicious. Will you cook tonight? Or should I bring something home?”

“God, I don’t know. It’s not even time for breakfast yet.”

He’s silent for a few moments. I’m being a bitch, I know this. I want him to call me on it. To tell me to stop my moping. But they didn’t do that back when I was a teen and no one is going to do that now.

They tiptoe around me. Even Vaughn. No one knows what to do with me, so they figure I should be allowed to do whatever I want, I guess.

Well, I want to be a bitch. Because I’m angry about something. I’m not even sure what it is. I’m just angry.

Asher is still talking but I tune him out.

I’m trying to figure out what’s got me so pissed off and I just can’t seem to get a hold of it. I get another kiss and I make an effort and throw the covers back. “Sorry,” I say as he walks away. “I’m grumpy.”

He stops and takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t turn back. “I’ll see you tonight, OK?”

I nod but say nothing.

And he leaves.

Good going, Grace. I guess you got what you wanted. I throw the covers back over my head and try to go back to sleep. I lie there for thirty minutes until I give up and reach under my pillow for my phone to find Bebe’s face. I press it and wait for it to ring.

“Hola, bitch,” she says in her chirpy Bebe tone. “What’s shakin’ bacon?”

This makes me smile immediately. She’s so stupid. “Your tits, as usual. Those giant knockers are gonna take your eye out one of these days.”

“Totally. But I got them strapped in at the moment.”

“You at work?”

“Yup. Did you know that sweaty guys in a gym, who beat each other up for a living in a ring they call a cage, are hot as fucking hell?”

I smile wider. “So, Steve’s two-hour parking limit is up, I take it?”

“So up. Dude, he was talking about kids. Do you believe that shit? I am not mother material. I mean, seriously. Anyone who knows me knows I am not mother material. I’m fun party material. I want no ties for at least ten more years. I’m all about enjoying your youth while you have it.”

“Did he cry?” I laugh. Bebe has been known to make men cry. Hell, Vaughn is even afraid of her.

“Almost. Pffft. Wimp. So what’s up with you, chica? Living la vida loca?”

Fucking Bebe. I miss her so damn much. “Eh. I’m at home in bed. Vaughn is working. So… eh. I’m at home in bed.”

“What’s wrong?”

I hesitate. Because even though a few minutes ago I was trying to pretend that I didn’t know what was wrong, I know what’s wrong. “I feel like… going home.”

“You are home.”

I take a deep breath. “No. My home.”

The silence hurts. It really does. But I suppose my words hurt Bebe even more.