Twisted Truths: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2 Page 2

  Eli

  “Get up.” Her voice is sharp as she pulls my covers off of me.

  Groaning, I turn away from her irritated tone and bury my face deeper into my pillows.

  “Eli Holt, I swear to God, you don’t pay me enough for this shit,” Harlow grumbles, opening the curtains.

  I wince as the light behind my closed eyelids shifts, bathing the room in sunlight.

  “I don’t have to be on set ’til this afternoon,” I whine.

  “I know. It’s almost afternoon.”

  “What?” I bolt up in bed, glaring at her.

  She tosses me my Apple Watch and I wince when I confirm she’s right. 11:57AM. “I overslept.”

  “No shit.”

  “I had a rough night.”

  Harlow glares at me, hands on hips, her nose ring glinting in the sunlight. “Welcome to the club.”

  “Why the hell are you so pissed off?”

  She throws her hands in the air, frustration rolling off of her and causing the room to tighten with her anger. “Oh, let me think about it. There’s a media shitstorm brewing because Natalie Beck turned up in the Seychelles last night and booked it straight to the penthouse suite of Hollywood heartthrob, Eli Holt.” She taps violently on her phone before throwing it to me.

  I glance at the image of Natalie stalking through the lobby of the hotel and wince.

  “Did you not hear me when I said ‘don’t do anything stupid?’” Harlow gestures toward her phone. “What about Zoe?”

  Narrowing my gaze, I slip from my bed, pass Harlow her phone, and pull on a pair of sweats. My head already aches from the fallout from last night. I uncap the water bottle on my nightstand and guzzle half the contents. “Zoe doesn’t want this life.”

  Harlow quirks an eyebrow.

  “She doesn’t want to do this anymore,” I clarify.

  “And you believe her? Just like that?”

  “You didn’t see her last night, Harlow. She lost her shit that Natalie was here.”

  “Yeah. Why the hell was Natalie here, Holt?”

  “Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes as floaters appear in my peripheral vision. “It’s complicated.”

  “Everything with Natalie is complicated.”

  I nod, ceding the point. Natalie is impossible to shake because she can’t handle any more loss and I can’t be the one responsible for breaking her. “What do you want me to say, Harlow? There’s a history there. I can’t just turn my back on her.”

  Harlow’s glare deepens, and I swear. She doesn’t know the full story. She doesn’t know how desperate and lonely Natalie was afterwards, how hard she lashed out.

  “She needs me,” I offer by way of explanation, the constant guilt I feel about Natalie ballooning in my chest.

  Harlow plants a hand on her hip, her eyes fierce. “Did you ever consider that maybe Zoe needs you too?”

  I snort humorlessly. “Have you met Zoe? She’s the most independent woman I know. She doesn’t need anyone but herself.”

  Isn’t that what she wants? To be alone, to have things her way?

  I can’t do this with you.

  “Whatever.” Harlow grabs a T-shirt, balling it up and throwing it at my chest. “Get your shit together, Eli. Get your head in the game. You’ve worked your ass off for this film, to be on Gray’s radar. Don’t blow it when you’ve come this far.”

  Her words hit their mark. I’m getting too worked up over a bunch of drama I swore I wouldn’t engage in. With the exception of Zoe, I don’t want to complicate my life. Natalie’s problem is that she always creates more issues than she solves.

  I meet Harlow’s gaze. “Did Zoe say anything to you?”

  Her face remains blank except for a tiny dip between her eyebrows. “Zoe has a lot going on right now.”

  Her words cause me to stumble. Actually, it’s not her words at all but the tone she says them in. It’s like she knows something I don’t. I snap my neck up and Harlow averts her eyes. “What the hell do you know that I don’t, Low?”

  She jabs a finger at me. “I know Zoe has a lot going on right now. She doesn’t need, nor does she deserve, your bullshit drama making it worse for her.”

  “What did she tell you?” My voice explodes, my words hard as steel. The sunshine surrounding us mocks me as I stare at my assistant, hating that she knows more about my girl than I do.

  “She’s my friend, Eli. And right now, she needs a friend.”

  “Jesus.” I turn away, pacing back and forth. My hands curl into fists, desperate to lash out and connect with something tangible. I feel like a caged beast, ramming my head against a goddamn bar. “That’s how it’s gonna be?”

  She nods.

  Anger churns in my stomach, mixing with my own guilt and regret about last night. I let the anger surge, allow it to seep into my voice. “Then be her friend, Harlow. Just don’t mention her goddamn name in my presence again. I practically begged for her to confide in me, and she refused. I’m done trying. She doesn’t want to do this with me? I’m done with her too.”

  Harlow scoffs, “Now there’s the Eli I know.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “The truth. When things get too difficult, when you don’t get your way or the situation slips beyond your control, you lash out.” She claps slowly, nodding at me. “Welcome back, Holt. You need to be on set in an hour.” With that, she turns on her heel and strides from my room. Moments later, I hear the ding of the elevator.

  I throw the water bottle across the room, some of the pressure in my chest lessening as it thuds against the wall, droplets of water spraying the carpet.

  What the hell was that?

  I ball my hand into a fist, fully prepared to smash it through the wall, but I hold back at the last second.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I’ve spent months working on controlling my anger, on letting things roll off my back. And one night, one goddamn night dealing with Natalie’s bullshit and Zoe’s mixed signals has me risking my career?

  No way in hell.

  I’m done caring. I’m done trying so hard with women who continually hurt me when I think we’re moving forward.

  Yeah, I’ve got history with Natalie. Fine, Zoe is a game changer.

  But, I bared my fucking soul to both of them. All I got in return was their rejection and lies.

  * * *

  Blue eyes settle on mine as I stride onto set and my steps falter. Next to me, Harlow stops, glancing up at me in concern.

  Natalie.

  When I returned to my room last night, I was relieved she was gone. I assumed she checked into a room and would message me, not show up on set like she owns it.

  I glance around for Gray, but he’s nowhere to be found.

  The pinch of guilt and resentment that always accompanies Natalie’s presence flares to life in my stomach.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice devoid of emotion.

  “Shut it down, Eli,” Harlow murmurs from my side.

  “Eli.” Natalie draws closer, appearing in my line of sight almost like a mirage. “We need to talk.”

  Over Natalie’s shoulder, Brooke steps onto set and shoots me a sympathetic glance. Gray, right behind her, looks furious. His hair sticks out at the sides, his face sports a stubble he never wears, and his eyes are almost wild as they swing between Natalie and me.

  My guilt grows along with my anger. Natalie is a constant thorn in my side and yet, I do nothing to pluck her out. I can’t. No one understands why because her secrets are not mine to share. Yet I’m still the one paying the price for her decisions, for her choices. My stomach churns, and bitterness unfurls in my veins.

  Don’t lose your cool now, Eli.

  The swarm of bodies surrounding us pauses momentarily, and the set grows eerily quiet. An even longer pause ensues, then someone claps their hands and bodies jump into motion once more.

  “What are you doing here, Natalie?”
I repeat, my voice hard.

  “I need to talk to you, Eli. I need…I need you.” She glances up, naked innocence in her expression. A long time ago, I fell head over heels in love with Natalie Beck.

  Staring into her open face and cornflower blue eyes, I sigh, my anger whooshing out of me as quickly as it escalated. “I’m right here,” I say the words without considering them.

  “Seriously?” Harlow mutters, stalking off.

  “Natalie, are you okay?”

  She shakes her head. I hate the red that rims her eyes. She’s been crying. Her skin is blotchy, the tip of her nose red. She doesn’t look anything like the Natalie I remember…and still I want to protect her.

  She’s not yours anymore.

  But do you ever completely give up on the first person who made you feel everything at once? Do you ever walk away from your past entirely?

  “Find me after shooting today. We’ll talk.” I gently squeeze her shoulder.

  “I will.” Her voice is small, timid. So different than I remember.

  An irrational surge of anger sweeps through me as my gaze collides with Gray’s. Did he make her worse? Did their divorce shred her the way she once shredded me?

  Why do I even care? Why do I still want to wrap my arms around her and shield her from herself?

  * * *

  “Cut!” Gray’s voice slices through the air as I add distance between me and Brooke.

  “You’ve got this, Eli. Just relax.” Brooke’s voice is soft and soothing, adding more fire to the flames burning in my chest.

  That’s the seventh take. The seventh time I fumbled my goddamn lines as I gazed into Brooke’s pleading expression and saw Zoe instead.

  “What the hell was that?” Gray jabs a finger at first Brooke and then me. He stares at me hard, like he knows I’m about to lose it. Like he wants me to implode. Instead of backing off, though, he pushes harder, his voice bristling with frustration. “This scene is about outrage and heartbreak and a quiet desperation to do the right thing, to do right by each other. Stop looking at her like it’s all her fault. You’re supposed to look at her like you’re fucking tortured by the mere thought of having to survive one day without her. But you need to let her go. She’s better off with the people of her tribe than a doctor from California.”

  I nod in agreement.

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “Well?”

  “I got it.” I stalk away, ready to reshoot the scene.

  The crew reassembles the props while lighting sets up again as Brian calls out commands.

  “Action!”

  “Oh my love, it’s not your fault. I-I just can’t do this anymore,” Brooke cries, her eyes bleeding pain that grips my chest and twists my heart.

  I stare at her, Zoe’s face filling my mind, Zoe’s words booming in my eardrums.

  “Cut!” Gray yells again, striding back onto set, his face barely containing his rage. “What the hell is the matter with you today, Eli?” Turning back to the rest of the crew, he waves his arms. “Everyone take ten.”

  “Damn it,” I murmur, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to erase the image of Zoe from my mind. Her soulful eyes, brimming with agony, her hopeless expression, her mouth uttering words I never wanted to hear from her lips.

  This morning, I told Harlow I was done with her, and yet, here she is, invading my goddamn life, blowing up my career even though I swore I’d never let it happen.

  “Where the hell is your head at?” Gray faces me, accusation heavy in his tone.

  I shake my head, tossing out an apology.

  “No,” he barks, his expression severe. “I don’t want the words, Holt. I want the actions. Give me something I can work with. For Christ’s sake, I want to feel something. Move me.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Well, try harder.” He throws his hands in the air. “I know you’re capable of feeling the desperation of having to let your woman go. Look what happened with you and Natalie.”

  My neck snaps up and I narrow my gaze.

  “And now she’s back. Is that why you can’t get your shit together? Too rattled?”

  “No. It’s not about Natalie,” I sneer, irritated he would even think that.

  “She threw me for a loop too, man. I’m just trying to relate,” Gray presses, giving me a knowing look.

  “It’s not her.”

  “Well, something’s got you lost inside your own damn head,” he clucks, nodding to emphasize his thoughts. He snaps his fingers, pointing at me. “You’ve got a new girl now. What’s her name? Sweet little body and that wild purple hair. Zoe?”

  “Back off, Preston,” I warn, fighting to control my emotions. My fingers tingle as anger builds in my bloodstream.

  “You want me to take her off your hands for a bit? Loosen her up so you can focus on your goddamn job?”

  “You’re crossing a line, Gray.” I work a swallow, my hands clenching into fists as I spiral into dangerous territory.

  He shrugs, unruffled. “I’m just trying to be helpful. I can work her over for a bit so you —”

  His words, the ugly truth underlining them, coupled with my outrage causes me to snap.

  A sickening crunch fills the air and satisfaction ripples through me.

  “Shit,” Gray spits out blood, his face contorting in pain. “You angry now, Holt? You ready to channel that ferocity into the goddamn scene? Everything you’re feeling, use it.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Harlow walks onto set, handing him a towel and leveling me with a stare.

  But as Gray wipes the towel across his face, a satisfied smirk glances off his lips. “You ready?”

  I nod, my knuckles burning, my wrath swelling until I’m nearly vibrating with rage. With all the pain I don’t want to feel. With all the words I can no longer say.

  “Take what you’re feeling, right now and give it enough oxygen to make it breathe.” Preston points toward the set. “Places everyone,” he hollers, striding to his director’s chair, his nose still bleeding.

  “Action!”

  Brooke stands across from me, heartache pouring from her eyes, her expression filled with sadness.

  Leaning into my outrage, feeling every shred of my sorrow, I focus on this moment. I act out my heartbreak, my desperation over losing Zoe, over the loss eating at my soul.

  “Cut!” Gray cheers, clapping, even as the left side of his face swells. “You nailed it, Eli. Now someone get me some fucking ice,” he grins, slipping from his chair.

  “He’s losing it,” Harlow appears beside me, passing me a bag of ice for my hand.

  “He’s brilliant,” I reply, in awe of the man who just let me punch him in the face to evoke the emotions necessary to fulfill the scene. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shoot Harlow a look. “Have you seen Zoe today?”

  “Focus on the movie, Holt. Focus on the things you can control.”

  3

  Zoe

  Sweat pours down my body, pooling in the neckline of my shirt, causing my yoga pants to stick to my ass. My knees wobble as my arms pump. I pick up the pace, pushing myself harder, the wind whipping my hair away from my face, the salt from the sea chafing my skin. My sneakers pound the sand in a furious rhythm that calms the tornado in my mind, if only for a few blissful moments.

  Approaching the hotel, I spot Harlow sitting in the sand, an iced coffee in hand.

  I sprint, full out, ignoring Harlow’s scramble to her feet in my peripheral vision, until my body is spent, my heart racing. Backtracking toward Harlow, I allow my heart rate to return to normal, the clarity in my head to fade away as all the thoughts and feelings I’ve been trying to ignore flood back.

  “Hey,” Harlow calls out as I approach.

  “Hi.” We both sink back into the sand. She slurps her iced coffee through a straw as I wrap my arms around my knees, tugging them into my chest and crossing my ankles. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Just checking on you.”

  I roll my eyes, facing the
sea and the lapping waves. “I’m fine.”

  “If you say it enough, do you think you’ll believe it?”

  I turn, my gaze cutting to hers. Weighing her words carefully, I shrug, “I don’t know.”

  “I used to tell myself ‘I’m fine’ all the time. Every time I felt like crying, every time I wondered why my mom didn’t want to be my mom, every time I was rejected for a job. It never felt easier, I don’t think. Instead, I just got better at hiding how not fine I was.”

  Hearing the honesty in Harlow’s tone, I realize just how little I know about her life, and just how much of a friend she’s being to me right now. “Why didn’t your mom want to be your mom?”

  “Addiction issues. She always chooses her vices over me.”

  “Alcohol?”

  “That’s one of them.”

  “I thought that was a disease?” I ask gently.

  Harlow nods, a small smile flitting over her lips. “How do you explain the men then?”

  “I’m sorry, Harlow. I had no idea.”

  “Most people don’t. It’s not what I want to project, right? So I tell myself ‘I’m fine’ so I can hide the hurt better.”

  “I’m not hiding the hurt,” I admit, knowing she’s hoping I’ll open up to her. “I feel like I’m drowning in it.”

  “But you don’t have to drown. At least, not alone.”

  I inhale the island breeze and salty sea, letting it wash over me. My pulse slows and my body relaxes. “I’m not fine.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m scared,” I whisper. “So fucking scared. Scared that I’ll die, scared that I’ll live and never be fulfilled.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t have any of the things I really want.”

  “Eli?”

  “Eli. A family. A future.”

  “Come on.” Harlow bumps her shoulder against mine. “I know you’re smart enough to know there’s a million ways to make a family.”

  I don’t respond, partially because I know she’s right and partially because I don’t know how to share that I physically ache for all the things I’ll never have. “I’m probably going to lose my hair.”