Page 111 of Over & Out

I’ve said farewell to a good number of people I cared about in my life. But this one hurt in a very particular way. I didn’t want to hang up. “Hey, Shay? What would you think if you knew there was a special school for girls to learn how to dirt bike? Like a club. Would you be interested in something like that?”

“OMG, yeah. I probably couldn’t afford anything like that, but it would be awesome. Wait, is there something like that here?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I can find out for you.” I’d only looked locally. “But it would be great, wouldn’t it? I would have loved something like that when I was your age.” Shay thought that was beyond awesome. She promised to write me a real, old-fashioned letter sometime, and I told her if she wanted to, I’d love that. But mostly, I just wanted her to know that she deserved all the good things happening to her.

Tru called me the next day to tell me the investigator refused to tell her exactly what he’d found, which she said was very strange. “I pushed, but he wouldn’t budge,” Tru told me. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. Because with that confirmation, I’m pretty sure I know exactly what happened. The relative who’d been tracked down, as well as the “inheritance” Shay’s neglectful stepfather received, was likely initiated by someone with the sexiest eyes in Hollywood and a mustache I missed running my thumb over so badly I ached.

“Chris,” Tru said before we hung up. “While I still have you, a little bird told me you haven’t looked at your trust account.”

My severance hadn’t been paid into my bank account like my paychecks. Hopper’s accountants had set up a separate account for me. It was true; I hadn’t looked at it yet. There was something too final about it. Plus, I’m certain Hopper would have overpaid me. Just the thought of looking at twenty grand or whatever I haven’t earned while the two of us are on the rocks like this makes me feel wrong.

Yesterday, Adrian called to ask if I’d reconsider joining them on the red carpet at the Iggies in two days. I already told him there was no way I was going. I reiterated that, even though I wished so badly I could. It was the clincher when Tru talked me into taking the job. Our outfits were amazing. Len’s collection of shades of hunter green vintage, repurposed and refitted so we all matched, was going to look amazing. But I’m not part of the team anymore. It doesn’t feel right.

Waking up today, I’m almost as depressed about missing it as I am about missing Hopper. Okay, not nearly that much. But I’m still mopey about it.

I pick my phone up off the bedside table, intending to text Hopper. About what, I’m not sure. We’ve been talking, just words and pictures here and there. But it’s been both the high- and lowlight of every day. High because Hopper always makes me smile. Low because when we end our conversations, Hopper says I love you, while I sayOver & Out.Both of us know it means I love you too, but I can’t say the real words again. Not just yet. I’m not withholding it, exactly. I’m just still waiting for something. Some explanation. Some solution for this cracked and bleeding heart.

So I writeOver & Out,and Hopper hearts it.

This morning, Hopper’s already texted, which isn’t unusual. Yesterday he sent me a photo of a seagull inhaling a full-sized smokie on his morning run on the beach. But today, something about seeing his name sends a tingle of intuition through me. Like today’s text will be different. I open the text.

HOPPER: I found a show that might interest you. Tonight at 7.

He tells me where to watch, and when I look it up, I see it’s an evening interview show.Tonightwith Rob Vancy. I’ve seen the show before—Rob’s a hard-hitting interviewer, and it’s been the stage for several bombshell career announcements from politicians, celebrities, and other public figures. Last year an evangelical preacher came out as a sex addict, and it’s where Charlene, Hopper’s costar onMountain Man, talked about her struggles with eating disorders.

Tonight, the show’s featuring Hopper Donnach.

My stomach swoops. Maybe he’s going to talk about his shift to indie films. Maybe he’s going to address the Muffin Man incident.

But somehow I know that’s not it.

Either way, I only agonize for a long time before pulling out my phone. I don’t want to be alone when I watch this. I type out a group text to my friends. It should be simple, but it makes my palms sweat. I call my friends to hang out, sure, but to specifically ask for emotional support? I never wanted to burden them with real things, even as I was thrilled and honored to be there for their ups and downs. That little girl in me wants them so badly, but remembers how often she was rebuffed or ignored altogether. I ground my “please help me” text inno pressureandonly if you have time. But when the responses immediately come in with hearts and loveemojis and a “Finally!!!” from Lana, I can’t help the happy tears that spill out. I guess now I’m someone who’s learning how to let people in. Who’s learning, thanks to Hopper, that I’m lovable, even with all my scars.

Chapter 38

Chris

When my doorbell rings that night, I’m shocked to see everyone I texted is there. Like, every single one of them and more. Mac and Shelby have brought Nathan and Jess, and Lana and Raph are with their girls Nova and Aurora. I squeal and dance around with the girls because I haven’t seen them since they came back from down under. To my shock, Annie’s here too, back from New York, and I give her a huge, teary squeeze because I haven’t seen her in even longer. But the best part? They brought Dolly. Without me even asking. She smiles, looking so genuinely happy to be included I feel my eyes growing wet.

“Thank you so much for coming, guys,” I say, definitely crying now.

“We would have come back from Australia early for this,” Raph says, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he settles in my easy chair, pulling Lana onto his lap.

“Ew,” Nova says, yanking the popcorn out of his reach. He grins. They have a great relationship; she’s just being her perfect teenage self.

“Speak for yourself,” Lana says. “They have TVs down there.” She winks at me.

I laugh, because Lana would have 100 percent come back early if I’d asked her to.

Nate announces he’s going to be putting on an animated movie in my spare room. It’s much too young for him, so I smile gratefully as all the kids follow him in there like he’s the Pied Piper. Which he is. He’s the sweetest young man I’ve ever met, and I’m honored he’s here. I’m sure twenty-year-old boys have much better things to do.

When the show finally comes on, I’m sweating. Like quite literally gushing sweat. It’s still January, but I have to strip down to a t-shirt and pajama shorts I’m so overheated.

“I’m not sure I can watch,” I say at the last minute. Lana and Dolly exchange a look, then plop themselves down on either side of me, hooking their arms through mine.

“You’re watching,” Lana says decisively.

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