Kit had called Molly for a reason, but she still had to fight to speak; it all just hurt too much. Like a cold, icy weight sitting on her chest, crushing and crushing. “It’s about Noah,” she said, having already trusted the other woman with the ugly truth of what Noah had done.

The only other people who knew were Becca and Fox. Seeing Kit nearly every day thanks to their shooting schedule, Becca had picked up on Kit’s giddy happiness then on her devastation, and connected the dots.

As for Fox, he’d bumped into her in the corridor after she ran out of Noah’s hotel room, had held her safe while she sobbed, her heart in pieces. He’d kept her secret too, never let on anything to David and Abe, though the other two band members had to have guessed something was going on with her and Noah.

Now, Kit didn’t betray the fact Noah had ended up stone drunk in a dive on the wrong side of town, saying only that he’d come back into her life. “I don’t know what to do, Molly.” The confession emerged in a rasped whisper. “I know he’s not good for me, but”—she curled her fingers into her palm, admitted the truth—“I still miss him. Like a part of me was torn out and there’s this hole there.”

“Do you want to try again with him?”

Kit was shaking her head before Molly finished asking the question. “I’ll never trust him again.” How could she ever forget that horrible scene he’d set up for her, ever forgive him for humiliating her with such cruelty?

“I can understand that,” Molly replied. “What you said, about having a part of you ripped out—perhaps you need to find a way to allow that wound to heal.”

“By accepting Noah in my life?”

“I’m not going to tell you to do that, Kit, not after the way he hurt you. I will ask a question though—if he disappeared from your life forever, would you be happy?”

Kit thought of her panic the night Noah had called her, the cold terror that had gripped her throat and squeezed. “No.” Her breath hurt. “What am I going to do, Molly?”

Kit got through the next day by focusing on work with grim-minded determination; she even managed to laugh at the wrap party.

“This is relief laughter,” she said to Cody, one of her costars. “No one needs to wear that much makeup.” Her hair was still heavily damp from showering the cosmetics off. “You have no idea how tough it is to wash off full-body avocado-green goo.”

The chiseled-jawed actor pressed a kiss to her cheek, his teeth gleaming Hollywood-white against the ebony of his skin. “You were a babe, even in green.”

“Still not dating you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re gay. I don’t want to be your beard.”

Cody wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You sure?” His dark brown eyes turned soulful. “I’d be the best boyfriend you ever had. No pressuring you for sex, willing to share chores and happy to go shopping.”

Kit snorted. “You hate shopping and you have a gazillion maids.” Hugging him around the waist, she leaned into his muscled warmth. “And sex would be nice.” Too bad her body wanted a man who’d made it clear multiple times that he didn’t want to “fuck” her.

“If you insist.” Cody sighed. “I’ll pop a pill, get it up.”

“You’re a riot.” Leaving him with a mock punch to the rock-hard abs that decorated the bedrooms of teenage girls across the country—regardless of the fact that he was, in fact, openly gay—she went to talk to Becca.

It was an hour later that she slipped out. Cody left with her and Casey, eager to head home to his steady boyfriend. That didn’t stop the incorrigible flirt from teasing Casey—who was about as straight as they came. Fighting not to laugh as Casey gave Cody the cool Marine stare that said he was not amused, she wasn’t ready for Cody’s sudden swearing.

“Damn it to hell! Some asshole’s slashed my tires!”

Ice trickled down Kit’s spine. “I’m so sorry, Cody. It might’ve been my stalker.” The disturbed man had never before struck inside the studio lot, but…

“Nah, I don’t think so, babe,” Cody said, hunkering down to look at the tires. “Everyone knows I play for the home team, so no reason for your stalker dude to get his panties in a jealous knot. Probably just some fuckwit getting his rocks off.”

“I agree with Cody,” Casey said, a frown in his eyes as he took in the damage. “Your stalker believes you two are married, and Cody’s no threat to that.” He squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “I can organize a tow for you.”

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