Page 54 of Jagged Line Paradise

I’m taken aback. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to connect with you. I should have. Joanna would’ve wanted that, and I haven’t been doing right by her.”

“No, no. Please don’t think that way. I never really…I’ve always just kind of been on my own.”

I see Andrés’ shoulders shrug with tension out of the corner of my eye.

“I didn’t realize how tough things have been for you,” Mrs. Miller says. “How alone you’ve been. Andrés was telling me about your mother—”

“My mother?” I turn my head sharply to look at Andrés. I can feel my face twist away from kindness to anger, the chaotic storm within me shifting, changing direction without warning. His jaw stiffens and he looks away from me, off into the dining room. My eyes follow and I notice that the camera has turned, angling toward us, and Jeff is behind it, watching intently as if he’s already started filming. “Are you filming this?”

Jeff raises his head and looks at Andrés with wide eyes. I whip my head around to look at Andrés again, repeating the question only with my eyes.

“It’s not for the documentary,” he says. “It’s just footage for you. I thought someday you might want to see this moment.”

“You thoughtwrong.Are you serious? You filmed me without my consent? Itoldyou I didn’t want to be in this film!” The storm within me manifests in reality, blowing me swiftly to the door, and I’m ready to storm out. But I also don’t want Mrs. Miller to think this is about her. I just can’t believe he did this. I turn to look at Mrs. Miller. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It was...I’m glad to have met you. I’m sorry.”

I hurry outside, jogging down the porch steps, and marching straight to the SUV we drove over in. I’m not surprised at all when I hear Andrés’ heavy footfalls close behind me. I immediately circle around to the opposite side of the car, out of view of the front door, and lean back against it. My hands come up to cover my eyes and as soon as I take a single, deep breath, I start to cry.

Ican’t believe he did this!

I can’t believe he would film me without my permission, knowing how firmly I was against this.

Is he playing a twisted gamewith me?

I heard him on the bluff when he told his producer that theyhadto get permission from the family now living in his former home before filming it. But this he does tome…withoutmypermission.

He’s a damn, rotten liar.

My stomach contracts and I do my best to hold back the sob that threatens to come out loudly and embarrassingly. I bend, place my hands on my knees and take in deep, uneven breaths. Just then, Andrés comes around the back of the SUV and moves to stand beside me.

I turn my head to look over at him. “Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me,” I cry.

“Avalon. I’m telling you, that wasnevergoing to be used in the documentary. It was for you. Just footage for you.”

“How can I believe you? I have no reason to trust you, Andrés, no reason at all! You said this would be good for me. Does it look like this is good for me?!”

“Stop screaming.”

I raise up in a fury, put my hands on his chest, and shove. “Don’t tell me to stop screaming! This is your fault,yours. I can’t believe you did this to me!”

“Avalon, quiet. I’m not going to tell you aga—”

I slap him. “I hate you!”

He’s a cool shade of fury, a blue ocean sweeping up into a tidal wave that looms above my warm, fiery rage. He grabs my wrists, yanks me harshly toward him, and slams my back against the side of the car, knocking the air from my lungs. He pushes into me, pinning my body there with his as he looks down at me, a vision of anger in its rarest, most dangerous form—collected and intentional.

He releases his painfully tight grip around one of my wrists and that hand slips up my chest, resting against my throat, though he doesn’t squeeze. His fingers twitch against the bare skin of my neck, as if his self-control is waning and he’s struggling against himself.

Fine.

Let him show me histrue colors.

Let him remind me why I’m betteroff without him.

I jerk my body against his, trying to push him back, but he’s hard and rigid and unyielding, his jaw set and his gaze intent.

“Let me go!”

---