Page 4 of Samhain

“Ah.” I let out a breath. “I was hoping…”

She pursed her lips. “Okay. Let me talk to him. It’ll soften the blow.”

My father thought my acting dreams were just that. Dreams. Fantasies. Nothing would ever come from them. Sure, the hobby gave me valuable life experience, but my time would be better spent studying business or dentistry like him. Something with a guaranteed return on investment.

But that sounded like a corporate hellhole, and I wanted the glitz and the glamour of fame. There was a downside to it, sure, but I loved the stage, and I was good at it.

“Carter?” came the small voice from the entry to the dining room. My youngest sister, Lizzie, stood in the doorway, clutching at a raggedy teddy bear with one hand. Her messy blond hair stuck out in odd directions, but her chubby red cheeks indicated she’d been crying. “I had a nightmare.”

At six, she’d been the last-chance-to-save-a-dying-marriage child my parents hadn’t expected but had been delighted to bring into the world. In the end, it didn’t save their relationship, and the ten-year age difference between me and Lizzie made it easier for my parents to lean on me for help raising her.

Charlotte and Sophia were closer to each other than to either of us. But Lizzie? Well, she’d had me wrapped around her finger since the day she was born.

“Aww, Lizzie-Bizzie.” I scooped her up and wrapped my arms around her tiny body, my heart melting when she rested her head on my shoulder and let out one final whimper before she relaxed. “It’s okay. It’s only a bad dream.”

“Will you stay with me?” she asked when I put her back in her bed.

“Always.”

“Pwomise?” It came out as a muffled sigh, her eyes fighting sleep but ultimately losing.

“Promise.”

But six months later, I was on a plane to London with my life packed in two suitcases, and a year after that, I met a guy who would change it altogether.

LONDON

AGE EIGHTEEN

I stood backstage at the King’s Royal Theater, my crown in one hand, my phone in the other. It had been a week since I’d met Lex, and I still hadn’t gotten the balls to text him and ask if he planned to come see the play.

I set aside a ticket at the box office for him every night, but so far, he hadn’t taken me up on it.

Not that I really expected him to. What could someone like him want with someone like me? It’s just…I believed in the power of firsts. First kisses. First fucks. First loves. Not necessarily in that order.

The first girl I ever slept with was Stephanie Hoppenheimer in the treehouse my father built in the backyard. We were fifteen and I came in less than two minutes, so I spent the rest of the night going down on her to make up for it. She didn’t know I was a virgin. Ever since that day, I’d locked a piece of my heart away for her. She got that spot in my life no one else would ever have.

Sentimental, yes, but I was a sentimental shit, and that would never change.

I fucked around with a lot of girls in high school. Who didn’t? I was tall and beautiful and athletic. People liked that, but it meant little to me. I couldn’t afford to fall in love. I had dreams. Hollywood. My name in bright lights. So I purposely kept myself guarded. I couldn’t lose my head over someone who would keep me in Chicago for the rest of my life.

I was meant for greater things.

“Hey,” came the voice from my right. My director, Anthony Michaels, walked closer. He’d been a screenwriter for a couple of different television shows on the BBC and had a résumé a mile long. A tall, thin man with wiry hair and thick tortoise-shell glasses, he liked to joke that he’d been roped into teaching at the RTC for a semester by losing a bet to an old colleague. Most importantly, he’d taken a liking to me and put me under his wing like a mentor. “You ready for tonight?”

“Yeah.” I smiled and shoved my phone in my back pocket, determined not to think about Lex anymore. “I’m always ready.”

He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “I know. That’s what makes you such a lucky little wanker.”

I narrowed my eyes on him.

“Your talent? All natural. It’s rare. You should cherish it.”

One side of my mouth pulled into a smile. Luck. Natural talent. I knew what he was trying to say, but he didn’t see the years I’d spent busting my ass for this—pleading and scraping just to be right here.

“You need to keep your head on straight. No distractions.”

“I understand,” I said. And I did, even as my heart ached for a beautiful boy who had promised to show up but never did. “College. Then Hollywood.”

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