Page 83 of The Unfinished Line

“Do you know how much I’ve hated every minute working with you?” I continued when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Then it worked, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“You hate me, don’t you?”

I laughed. “You’re unreal.”

“Listen Kameryn, you were so nervous and so overwhelmed. I knew you needed something else to think about, to help you stay grounded—even if it meant turning your anxiety into rage directed at me. I didn’t want to see you fail.”

“Ah, got it. The oldI only hit you ‘cause I love youtheory, huh?”

“It wasn’t exactly a cakewalk for me, either!” It was the first time he broke the even keel of his tone. “But I knew MacArthur would shred your contract the first week if something didn’t change—and change quickly. So when I talked to Grady—”

“—to Grady! Grady knew?”

God damn it.I could feel the tears threatening.

“Yes.” His hazel eyes held mine without blinking. “And L.R., too.”

I whipped my gaze away, returning it to the water. I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe him. “I must have been the laughing stock of the whole crew.”

“No one else knew, Kameryn. I swear it. And none of us were laughing at you.”

“You really want me to believe that?” I heard my voice crack. I swore to everything that was holy I was going to flingmyselfoff that cliff if I cried.

He took a step closer, daring to set a hand on my elbow. “We’ve made a good film, Kam. You’re an incredibly talented artist. You just needed a little help.”

The first fat tear slid down my cheek, disappearing into the collar of my coat. I didn’t budge. I’d apparently lied to all that was holy. The water in Stonehaven Bay was way too cold for a plunge, anyway.

“I get it if you won’t forgive me. Like I said, believe it or not, it wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience for me, either.”

I slowly extracted my arm from his hold, taking several steps away. I didn’t doubt he was genuine. Even he wasn’t so great an actor to pull off a performance like this. And if he was, well… an Oscar awaited him.

“I’d like to walk back alone,” I said, not looking his direction. I didn’t know how to feel. Or what else to say.

“Okay.” He stood back, respecting the distance I’d put between us. “If you want to grab a drink sometime—I owe you something that isn’t practically jet fuel.” A smile crept into his voice. “Or, if you decide you’d rather take another swing at me, I’ll give you another shot for free.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him touch his lower lip. “I lied earlier—you’ve got a hell of a left hook, Kingsbury.”

I almost laughed, but I wasn’t quite there yet.

Two hours later, I sat at Downie Point, looking out over Strathlethan Bay. I’d spent the walk scrutinizing every last interaction I’d had with Elliott—from the first time I met him at the read-through, where he’d been charming and sincere, to our night out atBartholemew’s, where everything had changed—coming full circle to his proclamation on the cliffside. I decided he was telling the truth—and was probably right. I’d have been canned the first week of filming if left to my own devices.

It didn’t make me feel what he’d done was justified, but I did understand it. He hadn’t just been looking out for me—he’d helped himself, in turn. He cared about this film. I’d never seen him feature in anything less than sublime. He needed me to be his equal. And, despite the misery he’d inflicted on me, he may have saved my career in the meantime.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to be his friend. I didn’t really know who he was. But, at least I hadn’t pushed him off the cliffside.

So that was a start.

As the sun disappeared behind the rolling hills, the ocean turning to ink a hundred feet below me, I pulled out my phone, checking the time.

It was almost eight PM, which meant it was already early morning in Yokohama.

I was surprised I hadn’t heard from Dillon. She’d have raced almost twenty-four hours earlier. I’d sent her a text that I knew she was going to crush it, and then turned off my phone to keep my head in the game, aware that today’s shooting schedule was going to be taxing. But I’d expected to have a message from her by now, and it worried me that I didn’t. If she came in second again…

OpeningTwitter, I lingered, listening to the herring gulls settling in along the shoreline.

She’d been intensely focused these last four weeks, training harder than I imagined was good for her. But it wasn’t my placeto ask. She knew what she needed to do, and she knew her body. And I knew this race had a lot more riding on it than points and prize money.

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