Fandom (Famous #3) - Eden Finley Page 0,84

my life.

I’m talented enough to maintain a career in Hollywood, but I’m not phenomenal enough to come out on top.

I’m available enough to be used for party promoters and up-and-comers in the industry, but not enough to actually be friends with.

My mom loved me enough to have me but not enough to keep me.

I’ve never been enough for anyone.

I’m torn between fighting for Mason and letting him go, but two and a half years ago, I let us fall apart. He tried to fight for me. He called and texted. He put in the effort, but I let him go.

Even though I know deep down he’s gone, I check the house anyway. He’s not in the kitchen, the living rooms—either one—any of the guest rooms or out by the pool. The last place to look is the guesthouse, but I can’t bring myself to go out there. Because then it will be real.

I stare across the pool at the tiny square hut and fold my arms. My feet itch to go out there, but my brain tells me it will only hurt.

“What are we looking at?”

For some stupid reason, my heart flutters with hope even though Blake sounds nothing like Mason.

Blake steps up next to me, looking a little hungover. He rubs his eyes. “Is Mason not up yet?”

“He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“My guess is back to Montana.”

Blake frowns. “Already? He talked about it yesterday, but I thought he meant eventually.”

“So did I.”

“Are you sure he left? Maybe he’s getting breakfast.”

“I haven’t been out there, but his truck is gone. His stuff …” From my room. Can’t say that. “Like, all the things he had lying around the house are gone.”

“Maybe he tidied.”

I cock my eyebrow like Really?

“Right. Good point. Okay, I’ll go check.” He tries to walk off, but I grab his arm.

“Don’t bother. He’s not out there.”

“How do you know?”

I know because my heart aches the way it did every moment I lived without him before. I know because that connection I’ve always felt for him is severed. I know he’s gone because if he was here, I’d still have hope.

I have nothing to hold on to, and it feels like I’m drowning.

That’s how I know.

“I just do,” I say.

“What are we going to do?”

I want to give him up. I want to say we should let him run away. But I’ve done that once before, and I won’t let it happen again. “We fight for him.”

It’s as easy as that to make up my mind.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mason

After being intimate with Denver in a way I never thought would or could happen, saying goodbye is fucking hard. Too hard. It’s why I slip out of his room and out of his life before the sun rises.

I need to leave. I can’t … I can’t be here.

The hard truths of the industry and the chaos isn’t worth the pain. I used to be able to handle them, but after coming back with fresh eyes, I see this lifestyle for what it really is: the cruelest form of manipulation. I refuse to play Hollywood’s games anymore.

And sure, there were only about a thousand times last night, while Denver was moving inside me, while he was breaking down afterward, and silently begging me to stay by holding on to me so tight, that I thought I could stay.

I could live with him in his Malibu home and hide just as well as I do back in Montana, but I’d know every time I’d step outside that house, I’d be drawn back in, and the public would ridicule me the way they’ve always done.

There’s absolutely no doubt that I love Denver Smith for who he really is—Denny Mariano, a damaged boy from South Los Angeles who craves to be wanted. I love him for the artist he’s become, for his work ethic, and for his strength.

I love all of him. But love doesn’t stop people from leaving, love couldn’t stop my father or Cameron from dying, and love can’t make everything magically better.

Love is a useless emotion that only brings heartache, and even though the thought of losing Denver crushes my soul, I have to do it. I have to protect myself.

I only wish I’d thought to save driving these agonizingly long hours until I’d had a better night’s sleep.

When I drove to LA, I was on a mission. I was focused, determined, and it’s how I made it to LA in sixteen hours with only a couple of breaks for the