Page 77 of Child of Mine

Like a caged animal, she paces in front of the living room windows. “All I know is each change has made it harder to resist the temptation. The job at GBH, you coming into our lives, and now the store…” Seeming to run out of energy, she melts to the floor. “It’s just one thing too many.”

Every part of me wants to wrap her in my arms, but I don’t want to shut her down. “How did it happen in the first place?”

“After my year onBoom, I was hooked,” she grumbles into her hands, shocking me.

“You were doing drugsthen?” I ask, dropping to a squat next to her.

“No. Sorry.” After rubbing her eyes with her palms, she shakes out her hands. I shift to my butt and get as close to her as I dare.

She doesn’t look at me as she continues, but she doesn’t flinch away either. “I was hooked on performing. I wanted to spend my whole life in front of the camera. When an agent approached my parents, I begged them to let me sign with her. My dad was teaching high school drama at the time and was totally on board, but we had to talk my mom into it. Somehow, we—my dad, my agent, and I—convinced her to let me give it a try. I know now that I was incredibly lucky. Right off the bat, I got anAfter School Special, a bunch of day player jobs, and then the soap.”

“Did your parents move too?”

She shakes her head. “My mom felt that she had to stay with the store. I thought that she didn’t believe in me and she was just waiting for me to fail and come home.” She raises a finger in the air. “That was problem number one. Number two: My selfishness broke up my parents’ marriage.”

Before I can process that, she plunges on. “But at first, it was all great. Conveniently, my dad got hired as the on-set teacher. I was the only child actor regular, so it did make sense. And I was like everybody’s little sister. When I wasn’t needed on stage, I was bugging people about their jobs. I barely got through the high school curriculum, but I got a PhD in making TV. Plus, I took acting classes at night. I loved everything about it.

“But then, when I turned sixteen, I didn’t need supervision anymore. Legally, anyway. There weren’t any other minors on the show at the time, so my dad took a teaching job elsewhere.” Her gaze shifts, and it’s like she’s watching a movie of her past. “Without him around, people treated me differently. Suddenly there were all these invitations, and I said yes to them all. Parties, clubs, openings, fashion shows—”

“You were only sixteen?”

“No one gave a fuck.” She waves her hand in the air. “Typical stupid story: Before I knew it, I was caught in a vicious cycle. I’d party all night, then I’d need something to get me through the day. Somebody always had something—”

“Somebody? Like people who worked on the show?”

“Yep. From the script supervisor to the prop guy, somebody always had a pill for this or that. I didn’t know what they were half the time.” She chokes out a bitter laugh. “I was so proud that I never did coke. When I was working,” she clarifies.

I can’t muster words but the shock must be plain on my face.

“Lots of people did. Sometimes I’d have to take a Valium to calm down because I took too many uppers.” She shakes her head and gazes back out the window. “My poor body.”

I want to say,That poor girl.I want to strangle each and every asshole who helped get her hooked, but I don’t want to interrupt.

“Anyway,” she continues on a sigh, “no one said anything at the time, but a lot of money was spent to keep photos of drunk teen me out of the papers.” She makes air quotes. “‘To protect their investment.’ What they didn’t do was actually protectme. After a couple years of partying, I looked so awful that the show gave my character cancer. Unfortunately, that made things worse. Not only was I stuck in a hospital bed, Quinn couldn’t be a villain anymore because people couldn’t hate her if she was dying. I was bored to tears, so I started drinking at work.”

“Where was your dad during all this?”

“He was doing his own partying thing. I didn’t care.” She shrugs, but there’s something sharp beneath the feigned indifference. “We were like roommates who barely knew each other.”

“How long did you keep this… lifestyle going?”

“A few years.” I must look horrified because she adds, “It wasn’t like I was alone. It seemed like everyone took something or other to get through the day. That’s what people did in New York in television. Back then, at least.”

She leans back against the wall so abruptly she almost slams her head into it. “But then my mom came to visit, and it was like she was the only adult in the room. By then, my parents had divorced. I assumed she didn’t give a shit about either of us at that point, but she took one look at me and took over. Before I knew it, I was in rehab.” She continues with a hollow laugh. “And I was pissed.”

“I thought I was fine. I thought it was normal to lose track of big chunks of time. And I hated it there at first, all the admitting that I was powerless and the education sessions. I thought it was dumb. And I was in a lot of pain, like the worst flu you’ve ever had.”

A sigh so deep it must come from the floor beneath her judders through her body. “But I eventually gave in. My mom had done her research. It was not only a really good place, but it was totally locked down. No one knew I was there. My agent floated this story that I had cancer, just like my character on the soap. ‘So tragic, so horribly ironic, blah, blah, blah.’ They kept me hidden away for a bit after I finished rehab, then executed this whole re-emergence where they leaked photos of me looking sick and then gradually getting better. By the time I went back to work, everybody believed I’d kicked cancer. Jeez, I almost believed it.”

She takes in a deep breath and lets it out like she’s run out of steam. It’s a terrible story, but then it occurs to me that it might not just be pain or shame that has kept her from telling me.

“Did you not tell me because you thought I’d take Lilah from you?” Her face is an open book, so it’s clear that’s what she was thinking. “You really think I’d do that?”

“I would if I were you.” Her laugh isn’t bitter, it’s sad. It breaks my heart.

“Bella, I would never do anything to get between you and Lilah. She needs you.”

“But what if I’m a danger to her?”

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