Read Hold the Moment :: CH.17

Avery woke up before her alarm for the first time in weeks and immediately regretted it.

Her body felt like it weighed twice as much as it should. Her brain felt like someone had stuffed cotton between every thought. She stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together last night.

Night shoot.

Crowd scene.

Car stunt.

And then

Evan driving her home.

Right.

She groaned and rolled onto her side. Her phone lit up on the nightstand with a stack of notifications.

One from Jonah:

“Alive?”

One from an unknown number that she already knew was Evan:

“This is my number. Text when you wake up so I know you didn’t die in your sleep.”

She stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then she typed back.

“I’m alive. You can stop worrying now.”

A few seconds later, his reply came in.

“No.”

She put the phone face down and dragged herself out of bed.

By the time Avery reached the studio, the coffee was doing absolutely nothing and the sky still felt like it should be night. She walked across the lot, badge swinging from her neck, and stepped into Stage Six.

The first thing she noticed was the sound.

Not silence this time. Not that cautious quiet from the day after she collapsed.

Today there was buzz. Murmurs. Little half sentences she caught pieces of as she walked by.

“heard he drove her”

“no, like actually to her place”

“you think they’re”

Avery kept her expression neutral and pretended she didn’t hear any of it.

In the corner, two production assistants snapped to attention when they saw her, suddenly very interested in coiling cables that were already coiled.

Jonah walked over, coffee in hand, eyebrow already raised. “You look like you slept six hours instead of two. I’m impressed.”

“I got more than usual,” Avery said.

“Oh?” he asked. “Any reason?”

Avery looked at him flatly. “I didn’t drive.”

Jonah’s mouth twitched. “Ah. The ride.”

“Don’t start,” she warned.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said. “But half the crew is saying it for me.”

“I noticed.”

He lowered his voice. “You want me to shut it down?”

“How?” she asked. “Send out a memo? ‘Please stop gossiping about the director’s transportation choices’?”

“It would be kind of iconic,” Jonah said.

She stared at him until he raised his hands in surrender.

“Fine. I’ll just pretend I don’t hear anything.”

“That makes one of us,” Avery muttered.

As they walked deeper into the stage, Avery noticed a new face by the production office door. A woman in a leather jacket, dark jeans, and an expression that said she was used to being in control of a room without raising her voice.

Kayla Bennett.

Avery recognized her from the crew list and string of impressive credits. Consulting producer. Former writer. Occasional director. The network had brought her in as a “story and process advisor,” which usually meant someone who cleaned up messes without calling them messes.

Kayla looked up from her notes and gave Avery a quick, assessing smile. “You must be Avery.”

“I must be,” Avery said.

Kayla stepped forward, hand out. “Kayla. I’ve been trying to track you down for two days.”

“Bad sign,” Avery replied, shaking her hand.

“Depends who you ask,” Kayla said. “I’m here to help you and the show look like you know what you’re doing.”

“We do know what we’re doing,” Avery said.

Kayla’s smile sharpened. “Great. Then this will be easy.”

Jonah, sensing potential trouble, suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be. “Props. I need to yell at props,” he mumbled, disappearing.

Kayla watched him go. “Is he always that subtle?”

“That was subtle for him,” Avery said.

Kayla laughed once. “Good to know.”

“For the record,” Avery added, “if the network sent you because they think I’m falling apart, you can tell them I’m functioning.”

“I’m not here to evaluate you,” Kayla said. “They want someone to keep an eye on story arcs and workflow. I said yes because I liked the pilot.”

Avery wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she nodded.

“And,” Kayla added, “I heard you took the extended schedule instead of the co-director.”

Avery’s shoulders tensed. “News travels fast.”

“They were complaining,” Kayla said. “I was impressed.”

“That’s a new reaction.”

Kayla shrugged. “It’s a bad system. You picked the option where they least get to rewrite your job. I respect that.”

Avery didn’t know what to do with genuine respect before nine in the morning.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kayla said. “Marketing wants a behind-the-scenes promo. Cast and director. ‘Family on set’ kind of thing. They asked me to coordinate.”

Avery closed her eyes briefly. “Of course they did.”

“They want you, Evan, Mia, and Liam in a group interview,” Kayla continued. “Laughs, anecdotes, cute stories about collaboration. That kind of nonsense.”

Avery opened her eyes. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Kayla said. “End of day. We shoot on one of your sets.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“Someone in a nice chair who thinks chemistry sells episodes,” Kayla said. “Look, I know it’s annoying. But these promos buy you goodwill with the network. They like seeing everyone smiling.”

“We’re not a theme park,” Avery muttered.

“Maybe not,” Kayla said. “But they’re already watching you closer than they should. Might as well give them a nice picture.”

Avery didn’t answer.

Kayla watched her for a moment. “You and Evan okay?”

“We’re working,” Avery said.

“That wasn’t the question.”

Avery lifted a shoulder. “We’re doing the job.”

Kayla nodded like that told her what she needed to know. “You need help prepping talking points, I’m around. Otherwise, I’ll stay out of your way.”

She walked off before Avery could respond.

Avery turned to find Jonah watching from a distance, expression way too entertained.

“Not a word,” she said.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said. “I was just going to offer to print T-shirts that say ‘We’re Fine, Stop Asking.’”

“Get to work, Jonah.”

The day’s scenes were mostly smaller ones. Short emotional beats, bits of connective tissue between the big episodes. Normally they would have been easier days. Today they felt like tests.

Avery felt like every note she gave was under a microscope.

Mia and Liam hit their marks well. They were tired but present. The crew moved with a rhythm that almost felt like muscle memory.

If she didn’t know better, she might have believed things were stabilizing.

Around midday, Avery stepped away from the stage for five minutes, needing a breath that wasn’t filled with dust and hot lights. She ended up outside near the loading dock, leaning against a wall.

She wasn’t alone for long.

Kayla appeared, holding a water bottle and a stack of notes. “You hiding or thinking?”

“Both,” Avery said.

“Good combo,” Kayla replied. “So. Talk to me about you and Evan.”

Avery’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“That’s not a denial,” Kayla said. “That’s a door slam.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Avery said. “He’s the lead. I’m the director.”

“And he drove you home,” Kayla added casually. “And half the crew is whispering. And the network loves a pretty narrative.”

“Fantastic,” Avery muttered. “They can write fanfiction instead of notes.”

Kayla smirked. “Here’s the problem. Tomorrow, cameras will be on when you and Evan sit side by side to talk about how great your process is.”

“We have a process,” Avery said. “We work. Sometimes we fight. We keep working.”

“Sure,” Kayla agreed. “But the second someone asks about ‘on-set chemistry,’ you’re going to lock up.”

“I don’t lock up,” Avery said.

“Yesterday you almost bit a PA’s head off for asking if you were okay,” Kayla said mildly.

“That was different.”

“Not really,” Kayla said. “Look, I’m not your therapist. I just need that promo to not look like a hostage video.”

Avery sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“Talk to him before the promos,” Kayla said. “Figure out what you’re willing to say. What lines you don’t want crossed. Get on the same page.”

Avery folded her arms. “I don’t have time for pre-interviews about the interview.”

“You don’t have time not to,” Kayla said. “The network is already sniffing for drama. Give them coordination, not chaos.”

Avery hated that the logic made sense.

Kayla studied her face. “Do you trust him?”

The answer jumped into Avery’s head before she could stop it.

Yes.

She pushed it back down. “I trust him enough to do the job.”

“That’s something,” Kayla said. “Start there.”

She started to walk away, then paused. “And for what it’s worth? You don’t look like someone falling apart.”

“How do I look?” Avery asked.

“Like someone who hasn’t quite figured out she’s allowed to lean on people,” Kayla said. “But that’s above my pay grade.”

Then she left Avery alone with that thought.

The rest of the day moved in fast-forward. Scenes, notes, resets, fixes. At one point, Avery caught Evan watching her from across the set when she laughed at something Jonah said. His expression was warm and worried at the same time.

She looked away.

By the time they wrapped, most of the crew scattered quickly, eager to escape before another overtime call landed.

Avery stayed behind at the monitors, checking the last few takes.

“Still working?” Evan’s voice came from behind her.

“Always,” she said, not turning.

He stepped into her peripheral vision. “You looked less dead today.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week,” she replied.

He smiled, just a little. “I try.”

She hesitated, then spoke before she could overthink it. “Do you have time tonight?”

He blinked. “For what?”

Avery forced the words out. “To talk. Not here.”

His surprise was obvious, but he didn’t make a joke about it. “Yeah. I have time.”

“Good,” she said. “There’s a diner two blocks from my place. Low lights, bad coffee, no studio people. Eight?”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Don’t be early,” she said automatically.

He half grinned. “I’ll be on time then.”

“Terrifying,” she muttered.

He chuckled and walked away to grab his things.

Avery stared at the monitors for another minute, trying to figure out when exactly she had decided this was a good idea.

She didn’t come up with an answer.

The diner at eight looked exactly as she remembered: peeling vinyl booths, music that sounded like it was playing from underwater, and a waitress who never wrote anything down but remembered every order.

Avery slid into a booth in the corner. She’d gotten there first, despite telling him not to be early.

Nerves, she decided.

And maybe a tiny bit of curiosity.

Evan arrived right on time, wearing a hoodie and a baseball cap like he hoped to avoid being recognized and failed every time.

He sat across from her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed.

The waitress appeared, took their orders, and disappeared again, leaving them in the kind of silence that felt heavier than it should.

Evan broke it first. “So. Is this the part where you fire me in public so I can’t make a scene?”

“If I were firing you, I’d do it on set where I have home-field advantage,” Avery said.

“Fair,” he said. “Then what is this?”

Avery looked at the table. “We have a promo tomorrow. Group interview. Marketing wants us to look like one big happy family.”

“They love that,” Evan said. “Makes it easier to pretend nothing bad ever happens.”

“I don’t want to get blindsided on camera,” Avery said. “And I don’t want to give them anything they can twist.”

“So you want a game plan,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Evan said easily. “What do you want it to be?”

She hadn’t expected him to hand her the steering wheel that fast.

“Nothing personal,” she said. “We talk about process. Scenes. How we solve disagreements. That’s it.”

“No questions about who drove who home,” he said.

“Exactly,” she replied.

He nodded. “Fine by me.”

“You sure?” she asked. “Because they’re going to push the chemistry angle. They always do.”

“We give them truth that doesn’t cost you anything,” Evan said. “We say we trust each other’s work. That we push each other to be better. That’s enough.”

It was so simple.

And somehow, exactly what she needed to hear.

She took a breath. “I also wanted to say something else.”

“Okay.”

Her hands curled around her mug. “About the second-unit thing. You offering to take days. I was… mad.”

“I noticed,” he said lightly.

“I was mad because it felt like you went around me,” she said. “And because it sounded like the beginning of the same story I’ve already lived once.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first.”

She looked up.

He held her gaze. “I was trying to slam a door before it opened. I wasn’t trying to take control away from you. But I did step over a line. That’s on me.”

The direct apology took her a little off guard.

“I don’t want you to be the one who gets chewed out for my decisions,” she said.

He shrugged. “Too late. I already am. They keep calling me to ‘check in about your stress levels.’”

She grimaced. “Great.”

“I keep telling them the same thing,” Evan added. “That you’re doing the work. That the pressure is the problem, not you.”

“You really believe that?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

She wasn’t used to that kind of steady, uncomplicated answer.

“I’m trying,” she said. “To do this without wrecking myself. I’m just not very good at it.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “You drew a line last night.”

“That was barely a line.”

“It was more than you had before,” he said. “And you let me drive.”

She rolled her eyes. “One car ride is not a life change.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s the first time you let someone take over when you were done. That matters.”

She didn’t like that he was right.

The waitress brought their food, refilled their coffees, and left them alone again.

Avery picked at her fries. “I don’t want this to mess up the show.”

“It won’t,” Evan said.

“You can’t know that.”

“I know what I can control,” he said. “And that includes not making things harder for you.”

She looked at him. “You’re allowed to be an actor, not my bodyguard.”

He smiled slightly. “Too bad. I’m good at both.”

“That’s debatable,” she said.

He laughed, and some of the tension in her chest loosened.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking through interview questions that might come up. He threw out fake reporter prompts, she answered, he adjusted. They built a small list of phrases they could both lean on.

Words like “trust,” “collaboration,” “respectful disagreement,” “shared goals.”

Nothing about drives home.

Nothing about almost collapsing.

Nothing about the way her pulse sped up when he leaned just a little too close across the table.

When they finally stood to leave, Avery felt… not fixed. Not calm.

But less alone.

Outside the diner, they paused on the sidewalk.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll follow your lead.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” she replied.

“It’s my favorite one,” he said.

She tried not to smile. “We keep this between us.”

“Always,” he said. “No one else needs to know we actually planned something.”