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Tidal(50)
Author: Emily Snow

“I’m terrified that this won’t end well,” Dickson said truthfully. “I’m afraid that if that happens, Willow might not be able to fulfill her contractual obligations.” He pointed his gaze at Cooper as the words fell from his lips.

“That’s the most idiotic bullshit I think I’ve ever heard you say,” Cooper muttered, narrowing his blue eyes at Dickson.

I wasn’t going to let it go there. “Dickson, I’m not sure if you realized it or not but I’m not a sixteen year old kid,” I said. Not like I’d been when I fell for Tyler. “I’m twenty and free to date whoever the hell I want. You’re an incredible producer, but please don’t turn all fatherly on me. I can take care of myself.”

Dickson sighed. “I just want to keep you happy, Willow,” he said.

“I am.” I squeezed Cooper’s hand tight. “I love this role. I love the crew. Fuck, I even adore working with Justin and he’s a cocky ass**le who’s always grabbing at me or talking about himself. Please . . . please don’t make this awkward. I mean, if you have to, call Kevin and tell him your concerns.”

Dickson gave a little jerk of his head and a tight smile. “I understand. I’m so sorry for invading your personal life.” Then he refocused his eyes on Cooper. “Willow, can you excuse us for a moment?”

I nodded, ducking my head as I left. I’d barely made it to the end of the trailer to meet up with Miller before the explosion inside began.

“You’ve got to be f**king kidding me. I ask you to watch out for her and you have sex with her,” Dickson’s voice filtered outside, and I felt myself flush from head to toe from the shame.

My ears were tingling and Cooper’s soft accent made it impossible for me to hear what he said next. Not that I was sure if I even wanted to at this point.

“Come on,” Miller said, placing his hands between my shoulder blades and guiding me forward. I cast a gracious look up at him, thankful that he was smart enough to get me away from the situation. That he realized that moments like this—they were the ones that threatened to send me over the edge.

But that night as Cooper and I lounged under the setting sun on his deck, I asked him what Dickson had said to him after I left. He shifted in his beach chair, lifting his shoulders. “Something along the lines of me being a professional f**k-up for having taken advantage of you.” If he hadn’t said it in such a strained voice, I would have believed he hadn’t been affected by it.

I winced, rolling to my side to gather my bearings before I met his gaze. When I did, I kept my eyes closed and asked, “You think this will affect you getting another job working for—”

He cut me off quickly. “I don’t care whether I ever work for these people again. I just want them to leave you alone.”

I let out a shaky laugh, squeezing my closed eyes more tightly together to suppress the moisture that was slowly building. I wouldn’t let myself cry over this. I refused to let this f**k with me anymore than it already had. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make a YouTube video crying for the world to leave Willow alone,” I said, my voice broken.

“Nah,” he said.

I heard him get up from his beach chair and then I felt his hands plant down on either side of my own. I opened my eyes to see his halo of blonde hair in front of my face—his blue eyes staring into my own—and my lips parted. I flushed when he brought my wrists to his lips, rubbing hot kisses on the insides.

A long silence passed and then Cooper’s eyebrows knotted together. “On second thought, maybe I will do that YouTube video. Except I’ll have to use your real name for dramatic effect.” After he said that, the tension clouding the atmosphere around us seemed to fade away and we grabbed our surfboards to go for an evening lesson before Eric returned with pizza.

But if I thought the grief over my relationship with Cooper ended with Dickson, I quickly found out I was mistaken.

The next afternoon Jessica, who hadn’t spoken to me since before my birthday, called to let me know that A, she thought Cooper was “a delicious piece of Australian goodness” and B, she was calling dibs on him once I was through.

I told her I was busy and that I’d call her back to avoid telling her to f**k off.

At the end of the week just when Dickson had stopped looking at me like he thought I’d crumble apart at any moment and Kevin had stopped leaving voicemails about tabloid damage control, I returned home after a long day of filming to find an Escalade with a Hertz rental sticker on the rear window parked in my driveway. I steadied myself before I climbed out of the Kia, because I already knew who was on the other side of the tinted windows.

Cadillac’s are my mother’s weakness.

I held my breath as she got out of the SUV and walked toward me on tall heels that hoisted her up to my height. Fun-sized was what my dad had always called her but there was nothing fun about her expression right now. Even though she was smiling I felt like she’d swallow me whole at any moment. When Mom stopped in front of me, she pulled me to her, hugging me tight, and I coughed, suffocated by the scent of her strong perfume.

“I’ve missed you, Willow,” she said, sighing.

I lifted my arms from my side and awkwardly returned her embrace. When she pulled back, she held my shoulders and examined me closely. I studied her too. With her dark, highlighted hair, wrinkle-free skin, and toned arms thanks to the scary trainer she worked with four times a week, my mom hadn’t changed a bit.

“Miller,” I said in a distant voice as I heard his heavy footsteps coming nearer, “this is Tiff . . . my mother.”

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