He was damn right—this was definitely over.
She walked out of the room, slamming the door at her back, a punctuation to officially leaving Troy Jacobs behind her.
Sweat ran down Troy’s left temple and into his eye, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it unless he wanted to lose his grip on the rock, fall into the cavern, get jerked around by his harness, and start the damn climb all over again.
All ten of his fingertips were raw, the muscles of his forearms were chanting an ear-piercing curse, and his biceps were tuning up to join the choir.
“Fuckin’ heat,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes tight and giving his head a shake. But when he opened his eyes again, the sweat burned like a chemical. He found his toeholds and tested his bounce. “Let’s go.”
“Slate,” Jeff called without hesitation. The slate kid called out the scene and take. Troy lowered his head and listened. “Ready… And… Action.”
Already coiled for release, Troy pushed off the wall and opened his body wide as he fell at full speed down the cavern. But today, like yesterday and the day before and the day before that, no euphoria filled Troy. The air swept past him, his heart rate picked up, his reactions kicked in, but there was no joy. No thrill. He was just…numb. Worse than numb. He was nothing.
The decelerator jolted Troy in a drastic speed reduction, and an involuntary grunt rolled from his chest.
“And cut,” Jeff called from the top of the cavern. “Looked great. You’ve just got one more shot, the one-armed hang, and you can take a break while we let Channing play.”
“Dude,” Channing called down to him. “Are you leaving blood on those ledges? I might need a full medical disclosure before I follow in your fingerprints.”
Troy rolled to a seated position as the machine slowly wrapped the cable on a giant spool and drew him toward the top. “Why do you think I went first? I’m the smart one.”
Channing made some quip Troy didn’t hear over the crew’s laughter, but at the moment, he wasn’t up for their usual sparring. His fingertips throbbed, and he lifted his hands to blow on them, but his mind was on Giselle. Nothing new there, only that today was her last day on set, and he hadn’t seen or spoken to her since he’d fucked her dizzy in the hallway of his room, then kicked her out—four days ago.
If he defined success by goals achieved, then he’d been successful at silencing her unstoppable declarations of regret. There was no need, no place, no purpose for those now. And he couldn’t stand to have that knife plunged into his heart over and over and over. It had to stop.
He couldn’t see it now, but he had to believe it would benefit them both in the long run. They needed to let go of something that had been destined to fail from the start, something that still had no future, and focus on the success they’d found.
The fact that she hadn’t fought him harder, the fact that she hadn’t contacted him since, told him he’d finally done it. Finally chased her off permanently. Which was the only way. She had bigger, better things and people in her future than the likes of him, and she’d eventually move on. He couldn’t take that kind of heartbreak again.
The cable stopped Troy before he reached the top of the cavern, and he stared dully at the rock wall.
“Hey.” Keaton’s voice sounded above, and Troy looked up. His friend stood at the edge, hands on knees. “Finish up so we can all head over to the air-conditioned cave, listen to Giselle sing, and eat cake.”
A tiny spark burned a path through his heart. Hearing her sing in person one more time was the last thing he needed before he could permanently close the door on that part of his life.
“Then let’s get this done.” He swung himself to the wall, caught himself by the fingertips on a narrow ridge of rock, and clenched his teeth against the pain as he maneuvered himself into position for the shot. “Go, Jeff.”
He set his feet, fit and refit his bloody fingertips on the rough stone edge, and focused. But a new pain resided deep at the center of his body, one with sharp edges that cut on every breath. Heartache—he knew it well. The feeling of someone you love more than life slipping through your fingers. The knowledge that no matter how badly you wanted to hold on, forces in the universe took control. The idea that there was a bigger meaning to life that you couldn’t see but that needed to be fulfilled, which could only happen if you weren’t together.
“Ready,” Jeff called. Troy refocused. “And…action.”
Troy let his feet slip off the foothold and pretended to scramble for traction while he clung to the side of the cavern by five raw, bloody fingertips.
“And…cut.”
Troy grimaced and swore as he released the ledge and let his body fall into the harness, then blew on his fingertips as the cables drew him up. That was his last major scene in the movie, and while on one hand he was relieved, on another it unnerved him to have time on his hands. Time to think about Giselle. Time to think about all his mistakes—then, now…
“Wrap Troy’s role,” Jeff said. “Take thirty, everyone. Channing’s up when we get back.”
By the time Troy reached the cave floor and wrestled out of his harness, everyone was headed to the other cave, and, Don, a guy from Ed’s crew was crouched near the metal spike, a toolbox at his side.
“Hey.” Troy wandered that direction, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped down as he checked out the crack that had begun as a hairline fracture but which had grown over the course of the week. “What’s up?”
Don glanced over, then returned his gaze to the floor, fitting a long, thin metal stake into the thickest section of the crack. “Just checking the depth on this. Ed doesn’t think it’s anything, but I’ve seen a couple of others pop up at other stress points in other caves, and I want to make sure they don’t go deep enough to damage the structural integrity or connect or do anything weird.”
“Anything weird,” Troy repeated. “That’s the really scary stuff, right?”
Don laughed. “How much longer are you going to be using this stake? I might just put in a new one somewhere else.”