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He scoffed. "You don't have fans when you don't play anymore. Only drama seekers who want to tell people you're still messed up. I'm sure that guy watched me limp away, all excited to tell his buddies how he's sure I'll never play again."
I pulled one side of my lip between her teeth. "Or maybe he was just excited to meet someone he admired."
The deep eyes shot me a look full of venom and anger, and he didn't answer. After a second, he began moving again, practically dragging Taylor toward the car as Maddie and I followed.
When we got near the crew again, another of the guys called out to me. "Hey, we shooting the first house tomorrow?"
So they did know who I was. "Supposed to be December third, so two more days," I said. "I’m finishing up getting things sorted."
The guy gave me a thumbs up and waved at the girls who were looking at the equipment on the sidewalk with confused interest.
"There's your one lap around the tree," Callan told them, already dragging Taylor back to the car. "Now home."
We all climbed back into the car, but the mood had shifted. I could feel the anger rolling off Callan in thick waves, and though I wanted to do something to alleviate it, I wanted to understand it, too. Was he angry he'd been recognized? Or that he couldn't be the star he used to be?
When he'd found his way back to the big gates in front of his house, Callan turned to me. "Probably better let you go get your show sorted." There was no softness in the words, no friendliness.
"You need me to go inside and open the gate?" I asked, placing Frosty on the ground next to the car.
"I wrote down the code while we were inside," he said, lifting his hand to show me four numbers on his wrist. He punched them into the keypad and the gates swung open.
"She has to help," Taylor said, crossing her arms and looking up at her uncle.
"No, Taylor," Callan said, his voice softening. "She's not here to help. She's here to get what she wants."
Surprise heated my cheeks, and made my shirt feel suddenly uncomfortably warm. "No," I said quickly. "I—"
"Didn't you come back over here today to convince me to let that camera crew into my house?"
"Well yes, but—"
"Cameras? Then we need to decorate extra good!" Taylor said.
"Yeah," Maddie said, her little arms wrapped around Frosty in a fierce hug.
I was watching Callan's face, but it gave nothing away except a hot anger bubbling beneath the surface. I wasn't sure what to do. "I can help if you want," I offered.
"You've done enough."
"Ah, okay, well…" I dug out my car keys and then knelt to say goodbye to the girls. "Good luck decorating," I said. "I can't wait to see it when it's done."
"Come back tomorrow," Maddie suggested.
I let my eyes climb back up to Callan's face, and he shook his head slightly, telling me that I wouldn't be welcome back tomorrow. Or next month. Or ever. I let a sigh escape me as I stood. "Okay, well, look. The contract is legally binding. You don't have to be here—it's only about the house. You don't even have to decorate—I can hire people to handle that."
"Clearly, I'm decorating," he said bitterly.
"So maybe think about just letting the guys film the house?"
He said nothing, just stood there with his eyes clouded and his perfect chiseled jaw set.
"I'll come by tomorrow?"
He shook his head. "Give me your phone."
I complied, though it seemed a strange request.
Callan took it, jabbing at the screen for a minute or two. "Now you don't need to keep showing up. You can call. Like a civilized person."
