Free A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) by E.M. Tippetts Page B

elbow. “I wasn’t well socialized as a small child,” he says.
    “Obviously.”
    “Hey, I really am sorry. I just… Most of the time, I have no idea what to say to you.”
    “Then don’t say anything.”
    “Okay…”
    I sense that this hurt him though, so I look sidelong at his profile. “You got a problem with leaving me alone?”
    He raises his eyebrow, looks down at me, and reaches out to touch my face.

 
    M Y SHOULDERS GO so tense that it’s as if someone’s turned a crank in the middle of my back and wound me as tight as I’ll go.
    I push off the wall and get to my feet.
    He makes a fist with one hand and says nothing. I can’t tell if he’s angry or hurt or both, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t care. I turn and grab the doorknob.
    “Lizzie,” he says in a low voice.
    I pause and turn.
    He looks down at his hands and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
    I open the door, slip out, and almost run right into Kyra, who is leaning against the wall in her workout clothes.
    “What is going on?” she asks.
    “Nothing.”
    “When Julian said get drunk and hook up with someone to practice for your show, he didn’t mean with Devon.”
    “Nothing happened. We were just talking,” I say with way more anger than makes sense. Before she can respond, I march down the hall to the changing rooms.
    “You’re dead,” I hear her say matter-of-factly. “Actually, just fired. Lizzie, wait up!”
    I break into a run because this is totally how I want to start my day—with drama.
    Kyra catches me once I enter the changing room and she grabs my forearm. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine. Nothing happened.”
    “Something happened. Devon’s not all smug, so you obviously didn’t cave to him-”
    “We were just talking.”
    “In the closet?”
    “Yeah.”
    She blinks slowly and deliberately. “Why?”
    “Because we talk sometimes, and no, I don’t know why. He just… On some of my worst days, he’s actually been decent to me.”
    “Lizzie.”
    “He saw I was upset this morning.”
    “Or in other words, vulnerable.”
    “Nothing happened.”
    “I got that the first two times you said it.”
    I twist out of her grasp. “I know what you’re going to say. He’s playing me. He does that to girls.”
    “Pretty much.”
    “So I’m stupid.”
    “No. Just inexperienced.”
    I try to dart past her to the lockers and she hooks me with her arm and pulls me in for a hug. “Listen, don’t ever feel like you’ve got no one else to talk to. You have me anytime, anywhere. You got that?”
    Not the lecture I expected. “Thanks,” I say.
    “Don’t let him get you alone again.”
    I nod. “Right.”

    “Jess, can you please take one look at the edits I suggest? I am, after all, an editor,” says Kevin.
    We are all sitting around a table set up in our warehouse where we shoot Clues .
    I stare at the final part of the scene, where “Couple kisses passionately. He pulls her shirt off over her head and they sink to the floor, where they proceed to make love.”
    “Lizzie?” prompts Kevin.
    It’s my cue. “Sorry! Um…okay. I didn’t hire you.”
    He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
    “Try that again,” says the director—who is different than the one we shot with a few days ago. That one was only available for that week. In television, directors come and go; they’re the least permanent member of the crew.
    “Jess,” repeats Kevin, “can you please take one look at the edits I suggest? I am, after all, an editor.” He looks at me like I’m an amateur and working with me is a clear waste of time.
    Something snaps inside of me. “I didn’t hire you,” I say, brushing him off.
    “Yeah, but your publisher did, and that’s who you work for.”
    “I work for myself . And you work for me. I write the words. You just rearrange them.” Those are the lines, but my thoughts are, Shut up, Kevin. I’ve been in show business ten times as long as you have. I don’t care if you went