Cody told her about his football season, and about his relationship with Cheyenne, how the cancer had taken her more quickly than any of them had expected.
“I’m sorry.” Andi’s tone was genuine. “I see you on Facebook every now and then. I figured you were going through something.”
She was perceptive. He let that settle for a moment. “I never talked about it.”
“I know.” She smiled and there was a familiarity in her eyes that felt like home. “I guess I could see through your posts. And then Bailey told me about what happened. But I’d already guessed something was wrong by the look in your pictures. When you’ve been through pain, you can recognize it in someone else a little easier.” A comfortable silence filled the space between them. “Did you know … Bailey’s back in Bloomington?”
The mention of Bailey had to be intentional, and Cody understood. The last time they were together, Andi had been drunk and practically thrown herself at Cody. He hadn’t been interested, of course, because she was a mess and because back then he’d only had eyes for Bailey alone. Things were different now all around, but it would be weird to have this conversation and not mention Bailey.
“I heard that. I haven’t talked to her.” Cody folded his hands and looked intently at Andi. “I learned something about Bailey Flanigan. Something Cheyenne taught me.”
“What’s that?” The vulnerability in Andi’s eyes made the years fall away in so many heartbeats.
“We’ll never be more than friends. Whether she stays with Brandon Paul or not.”
Andi nodded slowly. “Another long story?”
Cody chuckled. “Definitely.”
“I’d love to hear it. She and I don’t talk about you, really. She’s been … well, pretty down about leaving Brandon.”
“I’m not surprised. She loves him. I saw that when I was in New York this past winter.”
Everything about the moment — the warmth of the day and their easy conversation at the back of the coffee shop felt good to Cody. The years had clearly given Andi no choice but to be honest. He liked that about her. Too soon the hour was up and Andi checked the time on her phone. “I have to go.”
“Do you have a big part? In the movie?”
“Small, but it’s a start. I always knew I wanted to act. I just had to figure out how to do what I loved God’s way.”
“Hmmm. That’s what I always tell the football boys. We have to do things His way.”
They packed up their trash and walked out to her car in the parking lot. While she drove him to Oaks Christian, he pulled out his phone. “Maybe I could get your contact info.” He grinned. “So we could hang out sometime. Especially if they offer me the job.”
“Well, then,” she laughed, “I guess you’ll need my number. Because the job’s yours. You don’t need me to tell you that.” She rattled off the digits as he punched them into his phone, then she parked her car at the back of the school.
“The head coach is giving me a ride to my hotel.”
“Good.” She smiled at him, studying his eyes. “I had fun.”
“Me too.” He leaned over and hugged her, then he opened the passenger door. “Okay, well … good seeing you.”
“You too.” She waved as she pulled away. “Call me when they make you an offer.”
He nodded. And as he walked away he couldn’t help think how long it had been since he’d felt this confident. The good feeling stayed with him for the next few hours, through the interview and into the meeting with Edwin Baylor, the Oaks Christian athletic director, and even later when they offered him the job.
“Take a week and let us know,” Mr. Baylor shook his hand and smiled big. “We want you to take over the program here, Cody. You’ll be the youngest head coach we’ve ever hired. But somehow I think you’ll also be the best.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cody left the building feeling amazing. It was the job of course, and the fact that Tara had been praying for him. But it was something else too.
His time with Andi Ellison.
That was the only way he could explain how he felt as he headed to his hotel and the next morning as a driver took him back to the airport. He felt the way Cheyenne had wanted him to feel whenever he was ready to live again. The way Tara expected him to feel.
Like he was ten feet tall.
ANDI COULD BARELY FOCUS as she did her scenes that afternoon. Cody Coleman was interviewing for a job in town? Certainly Bailey hadn’t said anything about this, which could only mean one thing: Her friend didn’t know about Cody’s job interview. But that wasn’t the fact that stayed with her while she read her lines and acted out her part. Rather it was her time at a quiet corner table at Starbucks, and a lunch date with Cody Coleman that she never in a million years thought she’d have.
Back when she was at Indiana University her secret crush on Cody Coleman had been the greatest of her life. But there were problems. Cody had Bailey back then, and he wouldn’t have been interested in her anyway. Not how she was back then. But all that had changed. Which was why she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Their coffee date, their conversation, the easy way they had together. All of it felt right. Natural. Just one thing troubled Andi as she finished out her day on set.
What would Bailey think?
Eleven
THE SHOOT IN MONTANA WOULD LAST EIGHT WEEKS, A COUPLE weeks longer than most. But Brandon understood why. Many of the scenes required stunts — some Brandon could do, and some that required a stunt double. On top of that they were at the mercy of the weather.
Today was one of those times.
A thunderstorm brewed on the near horizon, threatening to cut short the scene they were currently filming. A scene between Brandon and Molly. The two of them rode on separate horses, moving slowly together around what was supposed to be the perimeter of their family’s ranch. For now the plan was to go ahead with the scene.
“Okay,” the director yelled from his place thirty yards away. “Let’s roll it.”
“Rolling.” The assistant shouted above the sound of the increasing wind. “Action!”
Brandon walked his horse for a few seconds, easy and fluid in the saddle. After a few seconds he looked up at Molly. “I read the letters.”
“What?” Her reaction was perfect. Surprise, and a little indignation. “Those were private.”
“It doesn’t matter. Mom and Dad are gone, Molly.” He ran his fingers over his sweaty forehead and through his hair. “Besides … they’d want us to know.”
She looked at her reins, her horse moving more slowly than before. When she looked up there were tears in her eyes, proof that her professionalism rather than her name was the reason she had won the part. “Know what?”
“About their love. Their love story.”
Molly sat up taller in her saddle. “Like, the story of how they met?”
“Yes.” Brandon set his eyes on the horizon. “It’s like a movie or something.”
More silence, and then Molly squinted at him. “So you’ll show me?”
“I will. We should all read them.” He flexed his jaw and allowed the hatred to come over him. A hatred befitting the part. “The killers — they stole that from us. Our parents and their love. They didn’t get to finish.” Thunder sounded in the distance, but the director didn’t cut the scene. Brandon turned and stared at Molly, their horses still walking slowly. “I’m gonna get ‘em, Molly. If it’s the last thing I do.”
“What if they get us first?”
Again he set his eyes straight ahead. “They won’t.” He clicked his heels against the horse’s side and the paint took off running. Both of them had trained for the part, and both felt comfortable on horseback. Brandon knew that from conversations he’d had with Molly. But after the director yelled cut, as they rounded the corner into the stable yard, Molly’s horse picked up speed and she lost her balance, falling hard onto the ground.
“Molly!” Brandon reigned in his horse, swung down quickly, and crosse
d in front of the animal to the place where his costar lay groaning in the dust. He motioned for help and then dropped to his knees. “Are you okay?”
“I think.” She winced and rolled onto her side. “My ribs … they’re killing me.”
“Don’t move.” He kept his hand on her shoulder and while the team hurried over he leaned in close. “Can I pray for you?”
“What?”
Brandon wanted to hurry before the others reached them. “Just real quick. I wanna pray.”
“Oh.” Molly winced. “Of course.”
“Just close your eyes.” He did the same. “Dear God, be with Molly. Whatever’s injured, heal her. She needs you, Father. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The tension left Molly in as much time as it took Brandon to say amen. She lay back on the ground and looked up at him, amazed. “I can’t believe that. No one’s ever prayed for me.”
Brandon shrugged one shoulder as he stepped back. “God knows what you need.”
A paramedic and a nurse were the first to reach Molly. Even as they did, the storm moved in on top of them, spewing lightning bolts and blasting thunder louder than any Brandon had ever heard. The group carried Molly into the barn, but by then she was already feeling better. Within ten minutes she was back on her feet, laughing at herself for being so clumsy.
The director called off the shoot for the rest of the day. “Stay dry and safe. We’ll meet again at seven in the morning. The storm should be gone by then.”
As everyone cleared out, Brandon stayed to be sure Molly was okay. When he felt sure she was fine, he started off toward his trailer. But Molly came after him. “Brandon …”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“I’m gonna watch a movie in my trailer.” Her look wasn’t suggestive like before. More open-eyed. As if by praying he had touched her in a different sort of way. But it was a way he had certainly not intended. He smiled at her, the way he would if she were his real sister. “Not this time. I’m heading into town, but thanks.” He smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
Her disappointment was as obvious as the storm raging around them, but she didn’t put up a fight. Brandon gathered his things from his trailer and checked out one of the pickups with the crew. Town was a twenty-minute drive west and it consisted of little more than a single street, a few beaten-down bars, and a handful of storefronts: Bill’s Grocer, Sandy Mae’s Bistro, Jay’s Java Shop, a few boutiques boasting used clothing, and at the far end of town a Super Walmart.
He had just one reason for going into town: Cell reception. Butte was the nearest big city, but at two hours away it was too far for an afternoon like this. The local town would do. Besides, Jay’s coffee had grown on him and walking down Main Street gave him something to do. But most of all, he couldn’t wait to use his cell phone, especially since it had been days since he’d gotten any service. No cell reception meant no Internet, no email, no way to update his Twitter or Facebook. But most of all it meant no communication with Bailey.
The road into town was bumpy, and combined with the driving storm, Brandon felt more like he was four-wheeling than headed to an actual destination. But even with the lightning and thunder and downpour, he realized as he drove that he hadn’t felt this hopeful in weeks. Months, maybe.
Once he reached town, the storm let up and the rain stopped. Brandon parked a few blocks down from the coffee shop — a habit from years of living in LA. One way to keep the paparazzi guessing about which store he was actually in. Here, though, the walk gave Brandon time to take in the small-town feeling, time to imagine having the freedom to live somewhere like here.
Granted, he’d beefed up for this part, and he was more tan than usual. But in LA he would still be recognized everywhere he went. Brandon was sure about it. Here, people went about their business without giving him a second look. A couple women pushing baby strollers, a family with young children headed for the local restaurant, shopkeepers sitting out front of their stores swapping local news and gossip.
Brandon almost felt invisible. And that wasn’t all. As he walked he was overwhelmed with a sense of freedom like he hadn’t known in a very long time. Fame had hit him at such a young age, he barely remembered what it felt like to be normal. To walk along a street like this one without causing a commotion.
He slowed his pace, something else that didn’t come naturally anymore. A glance over his shoulder told him what he already knew. No one was chasing him. There was no need to be in a hurry. He smiled and stopped at the nearest stretch of brick. For a long time he leaned against it and simply breathed. Just let the smell of rain and wet dirt fill his senses while the distant thunder added the gentlest backdrop. What would life be like in a town like this? Brandon gazed down the stretch of Main Street and chuckled. Okay, maybe he’d feel a little trapped in a town this small.
But what about Bloomington?
Sure the paparazzi had followed him to Bloomington when he filmed Unlocked. But they wouldn’t bother him if he lived there. Not enough fodder to keep them in business. So if he didn’t have so many movies to film for West Mark, he could move there and marry Bailey and find a life that would work for both of them. If it weren’t for the pending contract.
The voice of his manager came back to him, the words from a phone call they’d had last time Brandon was in town. The studio was reworking his contract, making it stronger, better than before.
“They can sense your star is rising.” His manager had sounded excited at the prospect. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the deal’s sweeter than the first time around.” He laughed, like they’d accomplished something together. “Great move, making them think you’d walk if they didn’t rework the details.”
Brandon hated the insinuation, that he had hired Luke Baxter to give the contract a legal look-over just so they could get more money from the studio. “You know that isn’t it.”
“Whatever.” The guy had laughed again. “It worked. That’s all I’m saying.”
Now a breeze stirred damp air between the storefronts, and again thunder sounded from wherever the storm had moved. Brandon lifted his eyes to the cloudy sky. So many movies in so many years. No matter what they paid him or how far they came to meeting Brandon’s demands about creative control one truth remained.
He couldn’t be West Mark’s star actor from Bloomington, Indiana.
Suddenly a rush of buzzes hit his phone and he grabbed it from his back pocket. He had a signal! The texts would’ve been all that he hadn’t received in the last few days. One after another they came and he could only wait until they stopped. Thirty-six messages in all. Brandon laughed quietly. Other than Bailey, maybe it was just as well he’d gone without service. How often did he get a break from the outside world like this one?
With a few taps he went to the message section of his phone and scrolled down until he saw her name. His heart pounded as he spotted her name. With another fast click her message appeared in the window. Actually it was a series of messages, and suddenly Brandon wasn’t sure he wanted to read them. He checked the time and date at the top of the first one, but it was from only a few seconds ago. The price of poor cell coverage. No way to tell when she actually sent the message.
He walked to a bench a few feet away. Please, God … let it be good. I need her, Father. Please … But even as he sat down he felt his mouth go dry, his heart beat even harder. He found his place at the top of her message once more and began to read.
Brandon, I don’t know where you are or if you’re still in Montana. For some reason, I thought you’d be back in LA this week, so I thought I’d try you. If you’re still on location, then you probably won’t get this. Either way, I had to send it. The second text continued where that one left off. First, I miss you. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you and us and how I can’t imagine ever finding again what we’ve shared.
But time has taught me something else. Brandon, we can no longer be together. I’ve thought about it a thousand hours and every time the answer i
s the same. I have to say goodbye. I tried to be like Katy, but I can’t do it. I don’t want to. The crazy life, running from the paparazzi, trying to figure out groceries and get-togethers between red-carpet events. All of it’s just too insane for me.
I wish we could talk or Skype. I know this will hurt. It hurts me too. Maybe it always will. I’ll be praying for you, believing in you. I love you. Bailey.
Brandon sat back hard on the bench and realized he wasn’t breathing. A quick gasp filled his lungs and he checked the rest of the messages. In case there was another one from her telling him that she must’ve had a moment of insanity because she could never, ever break up with him.
He let his head fall back against the brick wall. What was she talking about? People didn’t break up over text. Not at their age. She couldn’t possibly rattle off a handful of text messages and expect him to understand.
He stood up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. First toward the coffee shop and then back toward his car he paced, fast angry steps while he replayed her words in his mind. She was breaking up with him because he lived in LA? How could that even be possible? Wasn’t she the one who always talked about love being worth fighting for, how happy she’d been when he had stood up to the paparazzi for her. She wanted him to fight for her, and he’d done that.
But what about her?
“Come on, Bailey …” he groaned out loud, and then came to a sudden stop. For a long time he only stood there, staring straight ahead and trying to imagine that somewhere Bailey was going about her life content with her decision. Content because there were no other messages to the contrary. “You can’t mean it, baby. No.” He whispered the words, but they screamed through his heart. Across the street a couple walked by but they didn’t look his direction.
His mind raced. What if they agreed to date for the next five years? So he could finish the contract and then leave movies altogether, move to Bloomington, and spend the rest of his life with her. Until then they could have a week here or there together, when he wasn’t working and she wasn’t in a show or directing. He thought back five years, to the time when he was still living with his aunt and uncle. Five years? It wasn’t that long.