Page 50 of Her Dark Angel

She doesn’t say goodbye before the phone goes dead, casting me in silence. With a frustrated huff, I throw the phone on the couch beside me and drop my head in my hands. The temptation to scream until my lungs go raw is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite back the urge when a knock sounds at the door to my dressing room.

Lifting my head, I spot Wesley standing in the doorway, his eyes focused on me. An unreadable emotion swirls behind the depths of his eyes, but I don’t have the energy to try and decipher it right now.

“What’s up, Wes?” I ask softly.

He must sense my frustration because he gingerly walks into the room, his hands shoved into the pockets of the blue jeans hanging off his hips. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. You left the set in a rush just before.”

I stand from the couch and walk over to the make-up station. Wesley’s gaze pierces the back of my head as I pick up a brush to apply more blush to my cheeks. Whenever I talk with my mom, my skin turns a shade paler and I can’t have that on set. I don’t want to look washed out in front of the camera.

“I had to take a call from my mother. But I’m all good, so don’t worry about me.”

Through the mirror, I see Wesley take a step forward in my direction. “So, how are things going with… that guy?”

I turn around in the chair with my brow raised. “That guy? You can say his name, Wesley. He’s not going to hurt you.”

He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks now pinker than mine. “I mean… he could hurt me, Kin. Nash Beck doesn’t seem like a great guy, especially with that temper of his. I’m just worried about you.”

The sting of my nails embedded into my palms forces the response I want to make back down my throat.

I don’t understand Wesley. He comes across as a nice guy when you first meet him and he gives off that cute boy-next-door vibe, but once you get to know him and see past the facade he puts on, all you see is a man who likes to complain and talk down on people he doesn’t know. It’s annoying, to say the least.

Nash is by no means a saint, but in the four weeks I have known him, the thought of him hurting me has never once crossed my mind. It could be because I know there is a deeper and more vulnerable side to him that he hides from the world, and he chooses to act out by getting into fights and drinking himself stupid because it’s easier to fight the demons that way.

If his panic attack last night in the car is anything to go by, I would say Nash is struggling with more than just being bullied in school and his mother passing away.

“You don’t need to be worried about me, Wesley,” I say through my teeth. “I’m fine. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, Nash would never hurt me.”

He raises a brown eyebrow. “Are you sure? How well do you actually know this guy?”

“I know him well enough.”

Wesley sighs and takes a couple of steps toward me. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is crinkled in concern.

God, I wish he would leave me alone. After the phone call with my mother, I’m not in the mood to deal with this.

“If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need help, just know you can come to me for anything, okay? I will help you in any way that I can.”

Okay, now I want to scream at him.

I’m fighting the urge to march over to him and slap him across the face for jumping to such conclusions. Nash would never hurt me. I know that much. But it’s bold of Wesley to assume if Nash were to hurt me, I would turn to him for help.

Wesley is more delusional than I thought.

I stand from the chair and force a smile onto my lips. With a few weeks left of filming, the last thing I want to do is cause tension between Wesley and me, especially because it could potentially show up on camera. Despite him overstepping the line right now, and me wanting to slap him across the face, I need to remain professional because I know after this movie is wrapped up, I likely won’t have to see him again unless it’s at an award show or event.

Until then, I need to suck it up.

“I appreciate the offer, Wesley, but I’ll be okay.”

His features drop a little at my words, and his mouth opens to say something else, but the words die on his tongue when my phone begins to ring from where I left it on the couch. Praying it’s not my mother calling back to argue with me further about auditioning for the rom-com she suggested, I hold a finger up to Wesley and stalk toward the couch to retrieve the obnoxiously loud device.

Bringing it to my ear, I say, “Hello?”

A deep voice booms through the receiver, forcing me to drag the phone away from my ear. “Is this Kinsley May?”

I swallow hard and stare at the ground, unable to meet Wesley’s watchful eyes. “Yes, this is she. Who is this?”

“I’m Officer Walker from the Los Angeles Police Department. I have Nash Beck in custody. He requested you as his one phone call.”

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