Page 38 of Jagged Line Paradise

Theaudacityhe has to think he has any right to get in front of the camera and talk about his father and what he did to me, what he did to those other girls…it’sunbelievable.

No.

This isn’t okay and I’m not having it.

I start walking, heading for the bluff to tell him where he can shove it.

Chapter 12

Andrés

“SO, I THINKwe should shoot some B-roll here,” Brittany says. “I love this whole look, with the mountains in the background, kind of looming over the trailer park. Is your dad’s home still down there?”

I turn my head over my shoulder to glance back over the bluff’s edge behind me. I saw a flash of fiery orange hair down there in front of the familiar silver trailer. She’s still here in purgatory, right where I left her.

Has itreally been a fucking decade?

There was no way for me to tell what expression her face held from so far away, but her body language told me everything. Her feet drove her forward in more of a march than a walk. She was angry to see me up on the ledge.

She can go ahead and be angry for all I fucking care. I’ve tried to get in touch with her.Wicked Wayshas, too. She’s chosen to be unresponsive. She could’ve taken my calls or theirs, and we could’ve discussed the whole project like fucking adults. Instead, I’ve sprung a surprise visit with a camera crew and pissed her off enough to engage with me. She’s stomping up the hill this very moment.

I don’t mind a little confrontation.

She’s the one whose been avoiding me all these years.

“Yeah, it’s still down there,” I tell Brittany. “I think someone else lives there now, though, so we’ll need to get permission to film—”

“We won’t need permission if we don’t release the address.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “No. We ask permission. It’s the right thing to do. We’re the ones drudging up the past, and I’m not about drawing attention to the people who call that their home now if it’s unwanted.”

She holds up a palm in peace offering, her other arm full with a stack of binders, notebooks, and pages. “Sure, sure. If you insist, I’m sure we can—”

“Yes. I insist.”

“Funny thing about asking for permission.”

Just like that, the spitfire herself appears, walking right up to where we stand beside the black SUV. I turn to look at her with a smug grin on my face, but I struggle to keep it there as my eyes fall on her features.

The hurt shown in Avalon’s expression is the first thing that registers for me. It’s anger she’s projecting, but it’s pain that fuels her. She stops about three or four feet in front of me when I turn to face her fully.

I kind of want to be an asshole given the way she’s so actively ignored my attempts at communication over the years, but there’s a strange emotion brewing beneath the surface that I can’t quite place. It’s an emotion that makes me think better of being a straight-up piece of shit and telling her off right now for her consistent avoidance over the years.

Sentimentality, maybe?

Whatever it is, it wipes away the grin, instead forcing a small, tight smile across my cheeks as she approaches. “Avalon,” I keep my voice reasonably pleasant, “great to see you—”

“What are you doing here?” She puts her fists on her hips, jutting one out to the side.

Fuck me.

She’s a tangible memory—a recollection of my youth that I could physically reach out and touch. She looks older and there’s a little extra meat to her curves, but the stance, the expression, the voice, the fucking hair, and the shorts that hug her closely…goddammit. I thought I’d forgotten the details, but they’re quickly coming back. She just blew back into my life like a sweet fucking summer breeze.

I clear my throat, glancing down at the space between us for a brief moment before looking up into her green eyes. I take a step forward and it shocks me when she takes a step back, dropping her fists from her hips and pulling back her shoulders. I see her throat bob as she swallows and her chin tilts as she sizes me up with her eyes.

What wasthat look she just gave me?

What is she thinking?

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