She narrows her eyes and they accidentally cross and it looks stupid-cute. “Yeah. I’m jealous. Ada Mae insisted my career wouldn’t wait for me to get an education.”

Let the record show, I’ve never liked Shelby’s mom. She was a nightmare on set. Total stage mom living vicariously through her kid. I’m pretty sure I read something about Shelby firing her a few years ago, but apparently it wasn’t soon enough.

“How’s that working out for you?” There’s an acidic tone to my voice, but it’s not toward the woman in front of me. She doesn’t seem to notice, anyway.

“I’m burned-out. I feel a hundred years old and I’m tired of doing this.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t.” She spreads her arms wide and flashes a self-deprecating half grin. “This is all I’m good at, Cam. I can’t waste everything I’ve worked for.”

Oh, man. She needs out, but I’m not one to talk. I’ve been running from real life since graduation. Going home means being an adult, and child stars have this weird quirk where they’re never really kids to begin with, but they never grow up either. Or, at least, that’s what my therapist told me. The one time I went to see a therapist.

But I’m concerned that Shelby won’t get the chance to grow up if she continues like this. This situation has “tabloid tragedy” written all over it, and it’s ripping my fucking heart out. Various bottles litter her counters, of both the liquor and prescription variety. Who knows what else she’s been mixing in? And those women—her supposed friends—left her in the hands of a total stranger.

I’m going to murder Lyle. How could he do this? He’s always been a selfish asshole, but he’s known Shelby since she was ten years old.

Though, so have I. I draw her head to my chest with a sigh and hold her, thinking. I have two days before I need to be back in Alaska for shooting. Two days to figure this out.

Shelby is quiet, curled up against me. She seems lost in her thoughts, and sitting so close like this, I’m more aware than ever that I need a shower. I nudge her gently and excuse myself before grabbing my duffel from where I left it at the front door. With the amount of alcohol in her system, I wouldn’t be surprised if she passed out. That’d be okay. She clearly needs the rest.

Still, I clean up fast, running a razor over my face, and get dressed in a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt while thinking about the one she’s wearing. The one she stole from me back when we were something. Before the show ended and I left for college and she chose Lyle.