Page 80 of Beyond the Bright Lights

Mylan drops his hand from my face, and I stifle the whine, almost begging him to put it back where it belongs.

“If you Googled me, then you know I dated Michelle Miller five years ago. I’m talking about my most recent relationship with Olivia Hadford.”

I did read about her. She’s an up-and-coming plus-size model/actress. I have a feeling that what I read about their relationship and their breakup isn’t as bad as what really happened.

“She was only dating me to cash in on my fuck-ups. She encouraged my drinking and drug use. Then we’d go out in public, and I’d be wasted, making a fool out of myself. She’d record the videos and sell them to the tabloids. Or sometimes she’d tip off the paparazzi, and they’d show up. I had no idea Olivia was making money doing this until one of the reporters at Entertainment Now got wind of it and told me. I was . . . devastated, to say the least.”

Yep. That part was not reported.

“She also cheated on me with the director of the movie she was filming. I’m pretty sure she was cheating the entire six months we were together.”

“Jensen?” I ask.

Mylan’s jaw ripples with tension. “No.”

He’s quiet for a while that I think he’s done talking.

“Jensen is the one who introduced me to Olivia, but how would he have known she was going to do that to me?”

“When was this?”

“We broke up six months ago.” Mylan slouches slightly, easing some of the tension he’s been holding in his shoulders. “I thought I loved her. I trusted her, which is hard for me to do. I should have known that she didn’t feel the same. If she loved me, she would have urged me to stop, she would have helped me seek treatment. Instead, she encouraged my addiction. She was an enabler. It fucked me up and after she left, I started drinking more, pairing it with pills. I wanted to feel numb. I think Jensen felt guilty, so he’d go out with me and make sure I got home all right. He supported me and was there for me until he wasn’t. When he gave up on me.”

“There has to be a reason.”

Mylan shrugs a shoulder. “I wouldn’t let him help me.”

“Mylan, you have to see it from his point—”

“I do . . . I did . . .” He falls back onto the bed, rubbing his face with his palms. I lay back with him, turning my head, so I can see his flawless profile. “I get it, I do, but it still hurt all the same.”

“And what do you think Jensen is going to say to me to push me away?”

“He’ll probably tell you I’m beyond saving. Or maybe he’ll tell you that I’m so desperate for attention that when I find someone I’m attracted to, I fall fast. I became obsessed and dependent on them. That's what happened with Olivia. I was vulnerable when I met her. I too easily handed over my trust to her when I'm usually so careful with it.”

Is that what Jensen meant that night in the bar when he said, ‘it’s worse than I thought?’ Maybe Jensen still cares for Mylan. Maybe he worries I'll earn his trust and steal it away like Olivia did.

“He’ll tell you to stay away from me because I’m a poison that needs to be contained.”

“You’re not a poison. You’re an elixir with the wrong label. What matters is what's on the inside.”

He barks out a laugh. “That sounds like something Bruno would say. It makes no sense, but in a weird way, it does.”

We sit in silence for several seconds before he turns his head to me. “You make me a better person, Lana.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “That’s a lot of responsibility to put on someone.”

“It is, and I’m sorry but it’s true. When I’m with you, I want to do better. I have this overwhelming need to impress you, to make you proud. When I’m with you, nothing and no one else matters. Only you.”

“How can you say that when we just met? We hardly know each other.”

He doesn’t respond. He knows ‘we hardly know each other’ is a lie. I’ve shared more about my life with this man than any other man I’ve dated since Tyler. And here he is, revealing his very private life to me, trusting me to protect it when others have failed to in the past.

He studies my face. “When filming is over—”

My heart lurches, and I jolt up. I lean over Mylan and cover his mouth with my palm. His eyebrows pinch together.

“Let’s . . . not talk about that right now. Or tomorrow. Or next week.”

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