Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Theo smirked but nodded.
“Oh … and tell your friend that if he ever insults me again, I’ll make sure his career isn’t the only thing that’s canceled this year.” I swiped the door lock with my spare key card to let him into North’s room.
Theo bit back a bark of laughter and tapped two fingers off his head in a salute before he pushed inside. Before the door closed, I heard him say, “Look at you, old boy. This is the most animated I’ve seen you in weeks.”
“Ah think she broke ma fuckin’ balls.”
“Well, to be fair, you haven’t been using them much lately.” The door closed behind Theo just as an unexpected burst of laughter swelled in my throat.
Realizing I was struggling with a complex mix of pity, concern, annoyance, satisfaction, and amusement, I shrugged my shoulders, trying to shake it off. North’s emotional state was none of my business, and beyond doing my job, I didn’t want his world to affect mine.
Three
NORTH
Let it blow over.
That’s what my agent suggested.
To give it some time, stay at Ardnoch for a while, and let it blow over.
Yet it had been two months since the tabloids leaked that dreaded fucking story and it felt like at least a year. Why did it have to be that story? The one that raised ghosts and the guilt I had to work every day of my life to compartmentalize. I hadn’t been doing a very good job with compartmentalizing lately. Instead, I’d drowned myself in alcohol.
Shame prickled my cheeks as freezing cold air surrounded me. It was a calm winter’s day, the water lapping rhythmically at the shore as I stared out at the gray expanse of the North Sea. The sound slowly soothed my frayed nerves.
After Theo helped me off the floor of my room, I was so fucking ashamed of myself that I didn’t dare go against Aria’s orders. The things I’d said to the woman made my fists clench at my sides. It had taken ages for the throbbing to dissipate after her triumphant punch, but I welcomed the ache. I deserved it.
Theo had forced copious amounts of water down my throat, and then I showered. When I emerged, he’d laid out clothes for me, followed by a sandwich he goaded me to eat. Afterward, he slapped me on the back and said, “Go take a bracing walk, old boy. Let the staff in to clean this midden.”
Now the sea called to me as I stood on the estate’s private beach, isolated, a speck against the vastness before me.
Aria Howard was right. I’d spent the last few weeks wallowing in self-fucking-pity. She was also wrong. It wasn’t just self-pity. Guilt had wrapped its hands around my throat, and I wasn’t sure how to loosen its grip. But I couldn’t go on like this.
Lying low didn’t mean giving up, and that’s what it seemed like I’d done.
My parents would be ashamed.
Of course, I didn’t know that for sure. But I liked to think the parents I remembered would be the kind who gave a shit about my life choices.
Without thinking (and in hindsight, probably stupid when I wasn’t totally sober), I stripped to my boxer briefs, feeling the icy air prickle over my skin. It cut through the numbness.
I marched into the water, feeling the dichotomy of the gentle tide pushing around my ankles and calves against the burning, needlelike sensation of its wintry temperature. Gasping, I allowed my body a minute to get used to it before I dove into its depths. It was black under there, and I popped back up to the surface and did the front crawl until I was a hundred yards or so from shore. The pull of the waves was stronger here, but in my regular life, I swam every day if I could. Even still, a week of eating very little and drinking a shit ton made my limbs lethargic. The burn in my muscles as I fought against the strength of the water was satisfying as I swam to shore and then back out again, doing laps until I felt completely awake but heavy with physical exertion. Knowing when tiredness would become a problem in a place as unpredictable as the sea, I swam toward shore and trudged out onto the beach.
My chest heaved as I strode over to my clothes. But the swim had been worth it.
I pulled on my T-shirt and jeans and took my phone out of the rear pocket.
Aye, I was stuck at Ardnoch for a while, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do something with my time here. For example, getting my bloody career back. I shot off a text to my agent, Harry, asking if it was too soon to send out feelers for other parts. So I’d lost Birdwatcher. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other opportunities. I had to believe that I wasn’t entirely canceled. My publicity team handled my social media, and they’d posted to my Instagram a statement I’d approved. It was a denial of the allegations the tabloids had made and a reiteration that no charges had been laid against me.