who are renting their lodge and the chalets on their property,” I explained. “In case something happens.”
Shawn shrugged. “They’re all professionals and adults. What do they think would happen while they were gone?”
I remembered the raging house party my partner had been called out to one night in Santa Monica. “Finn Heller is known for throwing out-of-control house parties,” I said. It was the understatement of the year. “And after all of the work Mikey, Tiller, and Sam have put into renovating the property, I’m sure they don’t want to see it destroyed by drunken dilettantes who have no respect for other people’s…” I realized my bias was showing. “Anyway. I get why they’d want to keep an eye out, but I know Sam has offered to watch over it for them, too.”
Shawn looked over at me. “Your friends are good people. Thank you for including me tonight. You didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate it.”
I nodded and mumbled something to acknowledge his gratitude. They were good people, and I felt as fortunate as he did to know them.
“I remember how I felt when I first moved to town,” I told him. “It’s not easy to make the leap from deputy to friend with the locals, but once you do, you learn how great the people of Aster Valley are. Genuine, kind, and helpful. One of the few places I’ve ever found where you can be accepted as your true self without putting on an act.”
Which was a concept the Finn Hellers of the world would never understand.
2
Finn
“This fucking cabin is like being on set at a remake of Little House on the Fucking Prairie,” Kix said, flicking the corner of a patchwork quilt that lay over the back of the small love seat.
He was right. The “chalet” they’d put me up in was pretty rustic, but I could tell it had been recently renovated. Most of the fittings were brand-new and fairly high-end, but the decor was homey and welcoming. Not exactly what Kix was used to back in his luxury apartment on Sunset Boulevard, but I kind of liked it. It wasn’t the cold, ultra-modern style so many people had back home with hard angles, steel and concrete surfaces, and neutral grays.
The bedroom was my favorite, with its colorful rug that my bare feet had sunk into late last night when I’d been practically sleepwalking after a long day of driving. The crisp, cool sheets had been heavenly, and the fresh, mountain air flowing in gently from an open window had put me right to sleep. I’d come to this project after months… years… of churning, working as much as I could, as hard as I could to change my image from Chip Clover, the sitcom boy next door, to a dynamic adult actor who could take on nuanced, dramatic roles. But no matter how many degrees I’d earned, people wanted to keep me in a Chip-shaped pigeonhole.
I was so damned tired.
“I like it here,” I said, kicking off my shoes and stretching out my legs on the small ottoman in front of my chair. The nearby stone fireplace made me almost wish it were wintertime. A night dozing in front of the fire in a cozy mountain chalet sounded just about right for my current mood.
“You would,” he muttered under his breath.
I tried not to take his comment personally. First of all, he was right. I would and I did. Secondly, I knew how boring I was. It had been a problem for me my entire life so far. My mother had worked her ass off to make me more fun and engaging, and she’d be annoyed to see me chilling in front of a fire when I should be out socializing with the other cast and crew. “Finn, you have to take advantage of every moment you have while on location. There’s no better place to deepen those bonds than on the road.”
I glanced over at Kix. “Crys was pretty cool on set today, didn’t you think?”
He rolled his eyes. “If by cool, you mean an ice queen, then yeah. Cool.”
“Did you see her helping Yuki with the scene where her mother dies?”
Kix flipped the corner of the quilt again and bounced his leg in a way I recognized as pure, restless boredom. He wasn’t going to stick around here shooting the shit for very long, which was fine by me. He was welcome to go back to his room in the lodge