Page 4 of Roughing It

Can I give up everything—my career, my cushy life, the city, beingBlakely Bradshaw—and stay here with him?

“Rest.” Hudson’s lips brush against my ear.

The gentle rocking of the swing, the heat of Hudson’s body, and the way he caresses my hair—all on the heels of my mind-melting orgasms—has my brain surrendering its fight. Sleep weighs me down, and I sink into my Bear’s arms, hoping against hope tomorrow won’t find us.

CHAPTER TWO

blakely

FORTY DAYS EARLIER

“Don’t forget my BBs; today only, you can use code BBHairCare for twenty percent off your purchase of a custom shampoo and conditioner set from Stellar Strands.”

I toss my expertly colored honey-blonde locks, ensuring the light hits them at the best angle to emphasize the shine. “And as always, thanks for joining me in today’s live! You guys are amazing. Remember, if you can’t make it to a live, they are available in my stories after they end!” I give the camera a picture-perfect smile and inflect my voice to maximize engagement and convey sincerity. I’m a master in the art of connecting with people I’ve never met.

With a wink and a kiss, I sign off, hearts, likes, and comments flowing in, propelling the serotonin boost only social media can give my needy brain. It floods my veins, and like an addict, I chase the high daily. But it never lasts.

Already, the buzz is slipping away. As I pack away my ring light and stand, the quiet inside my apartmentsurrounds me. Of course, there are ambient noises. Downtown Austin is never truly silent. I tilt my head, soaking in the sounds—the endless symphony of car engines, tires on roads, the never-ending construction, university students and workers making their way home—the nameless hum of a place alive and vibrant all hours of the day. Usually, I love it and the welcome distraction it brings me. Tonight, though, it isn’t enough.

Lately, I’ve been questioning everything about my life, which is ridiculous. On paper, I’m goals. Money comes in a steady stream. I have a manager who keeps me booked with local events and online companies, connections with cosmetic and clothing stores, and over a million followers across my various social media channels. I’m living the new American Dream.

So what’s missing?

Someone to share my life with. That’s what, or ratherwho, is missing. While I excel at connecting with people through a screen, I can’t do the same with the ones I see every day.

My ex made our lack of connection crystal clear when he publicly dumped me for another local social media ingenue—one with a fast-rising star—on the eve of my thirty-third birthday. Turns out he’d been sleeping with her pretty much the entire time we were together. Months later, I’m still recovering from the sting of that fiasco.

I put on a brave mask, of course. Made jokes about not falling into the standard post-breakup blues. No drunk dialing, no cutting bangs, no sex relapses. I actually did a whole series on it. It did killer numbers.

But what do I have to show at the end of the day? A perfectly lonely apartment with a stunning view of downtown Austin. Each room is carefully curated for peak return on investment, not because I like the color scheme or uncomfortabledesigner furniture. Those same rooms sit unused by anyone besides the woman who cleans twice a month.

Ugh, I need to snap out of this pity party, stat. This isn’t who I am. I’m Blakely Bradshaw. Influencer. South by Southwest darling. Living my best life in the eyes of the public.

Squaring my shoulders, I scroll through my contacts, passing by friends’ names, not texting any of them. If I’m totally honest,friendsis too kind a word for ninety percent of the names in my phone. What’s less than an acquaintance but more than a stranger? Most see me as one of two things: a free ride or a way to boost their fledgling social media careers.

Still, a hanger-on who pretends to listen is better than being alone in my too-empty apartment with my too-loud thoughts, right?

I pause on Mia’s contact info. She’s the best of the worst. I can always count on her for a fun night, at the very least.

Hey! Free tonight?

Mia

Depends.

Typical.

How about dancing and drinking?

Mia

Always. Folklore at ten.

Plans for the evening set, I scrounge up a pre-made meal from the fridge and pop it in the microwave. As I ponder my existence and wait for my keto lasagna, a notification interrupts my thoughts. A peek at my phone screen causes instant regret.

It’s one ofthosenotifications. Do I maybe have a fewkeywords set up for immediate notification? Yes. Are they specifically focused on negative things? Also yes. Am I financing my therapist’s beach house? Triple yes.

Bracing myself, I read the snippet visible on the screen.

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