Mistaken Identity (Identity 1)

Chapter One

Six Months Earlier, Eaton, Texas

“I can’t do this anymore, Jett.”

He set his script down on the round, maple wood, kitchen table, and peered up at his distraught fiancée. Her soulful, pale-blue eyes were red-rimmed and full of pain, in her slim face. The petite, slightly up-turned nose he loved to tweak was blotchy. She sniffed and swiped away the moisture running from the corner of her eyes. It pained him to see her once glowing peaches-and-cream skin tone so washed out and wan. The radiant chestnut-colored hair she’d always been proud of was thin and dull. Pulled back from her face in a high pony tail it accentuated her gauntness. This last bout with anorexia had taken a toll on her. Still, to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Every time she tore herself down it was like a kick to the chest. In his mind, her five-foot seven, one-hundred and twenty-five pound frame had been perfect. But she could never see that.

“Sure you can, Lis.” He pushed away from the table and stood. Wrapping an arm around her too-slim waist, he pulled her to his side, willing his body warmth into her cool form. “You’re one of the strongest women I know. Remember what Dr. Talons said? We take it one day at time.” Leaning down he placed a kiss on her head. Right now she needs support and reassurance. I can give her that in spades. Hell, if I could take on this disease for her and fight it I would. It was difficult watching someone fight against a mental disorder, because the problem lived in their head. It was impossible to slay an invisible dragon.

She shoved her fist against lips that quivered and shook her head. The droplets of sadness began to flow like a river. “No, not that.” Her muted words were strained.

“Then what? Just tell me, and we’ll fix it.” He ran his hand up her arm, used to the mood swings. When you starved your body, everything was affected.

“You can’t, Jett. I tried. Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve given everything I have in me to our relationship.”

“And I haven’t?” He took a deep breath to still the words dangling on the tip of his tongue. She was lashing out, and he was the nearest target. Soon she’d calm down, apologize, and they’d talk about what was truly bothering her. “We’re getting married in six months, so cold feet are normal.”

“It’s not cold feet.” Her irritated huff confused him.

What do you want me to say here? “Okay, so what is it?” He shook his head, unable to track where she was going.

Inhaling deeply, she then exhaled. “I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s this life or me.”

“This life? What does that even mean? Where is this coming from?” He removed his hands from her waist and rubbed his lips with his fingers. Agitation bubbled up to the surface. They’d pushed back and put off this wedding for the past five years due to scheduling and her battles with her demons. When she’d taken a turn for the worse he’d told her he wouldn’t marry her until she could share a piece of cake with him at the wedding. This intimate ceremony in their hometown was the silver lining that carried them both through hell and back. Giving it up now wasn’t an option.

“Being in the public eye is destroying me from the inside out. I can’t take it! The harsh criticism, hate websites! The inability to step outside and simply be Melissa Munn, it’s too much.” Her chest rose and fell like she’d been in a marathon.

Worry unfurled in his gut. “W-what are you saying, Lis?” Fame was exhausting. It was understood. There were times even he wanted to walk away. But this…

“I can’t be the woman you need.” She bowed her head. “I’m not strong enough.”

Desperation detonated like a land mine. He cupped her face and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Please don’t do this, Melissa.”

“I have to.” Her voice cracked. Sobs wracked her tiny frame. “Walking away is going to save my life.”

His heart sank to the bottom of his belly like giant stones.

“I packed a bag to get me through the first week or so with my parents. I’ll be back for the rest.”

He released her, stepped away to run his hands through his hair. “How long have you had this planned?”Anxiety turned to anger. How could she keep thoughts like this to herself?

“Since this morning, I woke up, and I just knew I couldn’t do it anymore.” She shook her head, placed a hand on her neck. “I know it’s hard to see now, but it’s better this way. I love you enough to walk away, Jett.”

“That’s a fucking cop-out.”

“Doctor Talons told me to get away from my trigger. Do you know that is? You, Jett, it’s everything that comes with you.”

Sucker punched and blindsided he grabbed his shirt as his heart cracked and shattered. This was different from the fights before. Finality that he’d never heard before existed in her tone and her gaze. He swallowed down air to keep from losing his lunch. Closing his eyes he fought the urge to drop to his knees, beg her not to leave. But nothing was worth her life.

“Just go,” he growled.

“I’m sorry.” She spun on her heel and ran from the room. Time slowed as the happiness he’d anticipated imploded.

****

Present Day

Seated at the bar, on what should’ve been his wedding day, Jett finished off his fourth Hole in One. The drink dulled the pain to a level he could tolerate. He felt like a zombie, trudging through daily life, smiling, shaking hands, and signing autographs while he bled out from the crippling mental wound he couldn’t seem to heal. It was near impossible to move forward when everyone wanted to know why he and Lis split with the wedding so close. The obvious assumption for most tended to be infidelity, on his end of course. He snorted. If only it was that simple. Envy burned in his belly as he thought of his co-workers. They all enjoyed connecting with their audience, so conventions like this were usually a good time. It pissed him off that it was ruined this time. Especially since Somerville was the town the show was based in. Unable to keep up the happy Jett Walker façade he slunk off the minute their mandatory karaoke session ended. Here he could celebrate his unwanted freedom alone.

I used to think I was lucky, a small town boy from Texas who made it big on a popular t.v. show. He scowled. How fucking naïve was I? The show had brought a lot of trouble. Family members coming out of the wood work asking for money, rabid fans that made it impossible to have any inkling of normalcy, and the loss of his high school sweetheart. Even now he only blended in because they thought he was a Cosplayer. Surely squeaky clean Jett Walker would never get piss drunk in a dive bar alone. Unlike his television persona, Dex Kimber. Wow, you know shit’s bad when you envy a fictional character.

Cornerstone could only be described as petite. The tiny establishment didn’t fit more than fifty people. Done in dark wood walls with gray tile flooring, it had a down home feel that fit the town. The bar in front of him was lit from beneath with an amber lighting. Artist pieces made from tiny, white lights arranged in interesting shapes, added ambiance every four feet or

so. Behind him, round, two-seater tables lined the wall. He looked to the right where the room opened. Despite the late hour on a Friday night, there couldn’t be more than twenty people here. It was a nice change of pace from the insanity Paranormal Investigation conventions offered up by the pound.

The legs of a chair scraped across the floor beside him, and he turned his head to the left. A pretty, brown-skinned woman with almond-shaped, hazel-colored eyes sat down on the stool a few inches away. Her round face and high cheek bones were a knock-out combination. Dressed in form-fitting dark denim jeans and a red tank top beneath a red, navy, and white, plaid shirt, the mystery woman stirred his desire for the first time since Lis left. The alcohol is doing the trick. Full, dusky-pink, lips formed a shy smile. Her eyes widened with recognition. Son of a bitch!

“Wow, you do a really good Dex Kimber.”

“Thanks. I, uh, heard that before. You a Paranormal fan?” he asked, using the show’s shortened nickname.

She nodded. “I lust after the writers pretty much. Their story lines are brilliant.”

“You a writer?” Refreshed by her admiration of the show and its production versus the looks he and his co-workers possessed, he wanted to know more.

“Journalist. I work for the local paper, but I admire creative writing, and I may, or may not, be working on a book of my own.” Her slow, southern, drawl coaxed a smile. No small feat, considering.

“You here for the convention?”

“Yeah, my best friend, Mya, purchased passes for the weekend, sort of congratulations for making Lead Editor, and a happy birthday present rolled into one.”

“Well happy birthday and congrats.” He raised his half-empty glass toward her.

“Thank you.” She beamed.

“How old are you?” He narrowed his eyes, unable to gauge an age range on her youthful façade.

“For the record, that’s not a question most women like to be asked. I’m thirty. Mark the occasion on your calendar because next year I start counting backward.” She winked, and he chuckled. I like this one. She’s got spunk and substance.

“Noted. Can I buy the birthday girl a drink?”

“Sure, but only if you hurry.” She peered down at her watch. “Only thirty more minutes to go.”

Eager to lose himself in anything other than his memories he glanced down the bar, caught the bartender’s gaze, and nodded. The brunette returned the head gesture and settled the tab with her current customer.