Her words sounded bitter. She wished that she didn’t feel that way, because she was truly grateful for Conrad caring enough to get her help, and she was thankful for Olivia, even if she’d hated the woman for the first couple of weeks. Olivia had grown on her. Even her shit-stirring sister had begun to feel like family.

But that was all made-up crap in her head, because they weren’t a family. This wasn’t their home. Zeke wasn’t her guy. This playacting was over.

Spencer nodded, staring out into the distance at the overgrown hedges by the mailbox. “So read for the part. If that’s what you want.”

Chase remained silent, studying the way the late-afternoon sun fell on the slick new paint beneath her sneakers. Her hair lay damp on her collar, making her chilled, but she couldn’t seem to want to take a shower and pretend like things were normal when inside twisted a tornado of doubt, confusion, and fear.

What. You. Want.

Those three words haunted her. She’d never thought of any alternative for her life . . . other than running away and assuming the identity of regular ol’ Katie. She’d half-heartedly taken some college courses when she’d gotten her high school equivalency diploma, thinking she could handle acting, snorting coke, and English 102, but when she had to go on location, she’d fallen behind in her classes and figured she could always get her degree later. Her major had been English with a minor in theology, and her heart hadn’t really been into pursuing a degree. So she stuck with what she’d always done—secure a role, complete the film, get a check, and move to the next opportunity.

“No one has really ever asked me until recently what I wanted. Weird, huh?” she said finally, looking over at Spencer, who seemed to expect an answer to his directive.

“Not really. I went through that a few years back. Even thought about climbing behind the camera and directing, but ultimately I decided I love my craft. I get to put on a cool costume, film fight scenes, get the girl, and become a hero to millions. But maybe you don’t love that. It’s okay to stop, Chase. Some people might think you’re crazy to give up on fame and fortune, but you have to decide your life for yourself. You have that right. Your life belongs to you. Not your mom. Not Conrad Santos. Not even Olivia. You get to decide.”

Chase pulled both legs up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on her knees. “I guess I do.”