Page 12 of Romance Is Dead

“Sure thing, Larry.”

He flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. “Now, do either of you know how to get in touch with the person in charge of this whole show?”

I nodded bleakly, rattling off Natasha’s contact information. By the time they told us we were allowed to leave, my adrenaline had worn off and I was exhausted.

Teddy and I finished walking to the parking lot in silence. Along the way, a swell of emotion built in my chest. I’d only known Trevor for a day, but it’d been enough to know he hadn’t deserved to die alone. No one deserved that, and especially not someone as sweet as Trevor. If the day had been a disaster before, it was an absolute catastrophe now. And as we reached my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that all of it was Teddy’s fault.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” I spat. I knew it didn’t make sense to blame Teddy for what happened to Trevor—not really—but I also couldn’t deny that the entire day had been cursed since the moment he showed up on set.

Teddy blinked as he ground to a halt. “For what?”

“That!” I motioned wildly at the field behind us.

“Hang on. You can’t seriously be blaming me for what just happened?”

“I was getting ready to leave when you showed up at my trailer! If you hadn’t slowed me down, maybe I could have helped him!” My throat was growing thick, and I swallowed hard, desperate not to get emotional.

“First of all, we already established that you were in the middle of staring at my nipples on the TV when I got there, so your story isn’t adding up.”

“Whatever.”

“Second of all, it didn’t look like he moved much after hitting his head. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“You don’t know that.” I swiped at my eyes, which were filling with tears at an alarming pace. “Just leave me the hell alone from now on.”

I yanked open the door to my car and climbed in, immediately locking it behind me. I twisted the keys in the ignition and turned on the radio, the thumping sounds of the Talking Heads filling the vehicle.

Psycho killer. . . Qu’est-ce que c’est?. . .

Gunning the gas, I peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Teddy standing alone in the dark.

Chapter Five

Despite setting three alarms, I was still late to set the next morning.

It had been a rough night. Every time I was about to nod off, visions of Trevor’s glassy eyes jerked me awake. If I wiped that image away, it was replaced by violent slow motions of him falling, his head crashing into the rock. I was able to snag a few hours of sleep, but it still felt like I’d been up all night by the time my alarm went off.

Hopping out of my car, my face was still puffy and my eyes full of grit. Mara was going to have her work cut out for her. I winced as I passed the spot where we’d found Trevor. Bright yellow police tape was still cordoning off the scene, evoking memories of sitting in the dark next to his body. I shook my head, desperate to clear it. I needed more caffeine. Stat.

As I wound through base camp on my way to craft services, there was a distinct lack of commotion. I hadn’t been run over by any PAs distracted by their headsets. There was no sign of Natasha or her AD looking for someone in a blind panic. And I’d expected to run into at least one hungover actor stumbling onto set late after celebrating the night before.

But everything was eerily still. Had the entire production been paused? Had no one thought to tell me?

A cup of coffee slid into view.

“I figured you might need this.” Teddy fell in step next to me, also in sweats and a hoodie, making the two of us look like partners in crime. But while I looked like death warmed over, Teddy was—irritatingly—as handsome as ever. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and that stubborn curl of hair had flopped onto his forehead, but he still looked ready to walk onto a modeling shoot. I hated that after two fights and finding a dead body together, I was still as attracted to him as the night I met him.

“Oh my God, thank you.” I grabbed the cup and took a long swallow, sighing in relief. I might have been tempted to toss it on the ground the night before, but now I couldn’t afford to waste precious caffeine. “It feels like I got about seven minutes of sleep last night.”

“I can tell.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You look tired.”

“Thanks so much.”

“I didn’t say you looked bad.” He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “You look. . . worn.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. Like Jigsaw. In thoseSawmovies.”

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