Page 18 of Keep Me Close

The woman on the other end of the phone should be worried that her daughter was scared enough to run from her own home. Instead, all she cares about is filming schedules and contracts.

“I need a break. Just for a few weeks,” Chey says, her voice growing thinner and smaller with every word.

It pisses me off that Chey seems to fold in on herself with every clipped response from Sharon. More than that, I hate the way she clutches the phone tighter while wrapped in nothing but a towel, looking young, tired, and cornered in a way I’ve never seen before.

The Cheyenne I know is sharp-tongued, polished, and can hold her own against anyone. Especially me. This version is wilting before my very eyes.

“Mom—”

Without realizing it, I stride across the room. There’s a split second where even I know I’m crossing a line, but that’s not enough to stop me. I hold out my hand, and for a brief moment, Chey’s eyes widen. It’s almost a surprise when she allows me to take the slim device.

“Hey, Mrs. B,” I say smoothly. “It’s Knox McNichols.”

My gaze stays pinned to Cheyenne. Her eyes are huge as her fingers tighten along the edge of the towel wrapped around her chest. A flush rises in her cheeks. I can’t tell if it’s anger, embarrassment, or the aftershock of everything that’s happened in the past hour.

“I just wanted you to know that Chey is with me.”

There’s a moment of silence from the other end before Sharon’s tone does a total one eighty. “Knox, darling. I had no idea you and Chey were even in contact.”

I keep my expression neutral even though disgust crawls down my spine. “Sure, we’ve always been friends. Chey will let you know when she’s ready to return. Sound good?”

“I—”

I don’t give her a chance to respond before ending the call.

Rude?

Probably.

But I’m irritated at how this woman is treating her daughter.

The room is plunged into silence, thick with everything I just set into motion.

Chey stares at me in shock before whispering, “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Honestly? Neither can I.

I glance at the phone in my hand before passing it back to her. Her fingers brush mine as she takes the cell, and I catch the smallest tremor there.

She’s still shaken. But there’s something else in her expression.

Relief. Probably a fair amount of disbelief. And maybe even a little bit of gratitude, although it’s doubtful she’d admit to it.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Looks like there’s no turning back now, Hollywood.”

Still clutching the towel like it’s the only thing holding her together, she lets out a huff that might have passed for a laugh on any other day.

The truth is, Dakota or not, there’s no version of this scenario where I walk out of this hotel suite and leave her here alone. That should be my first red flag. Instead, all I can think about is how having her sleep just across the hall from me is going to test my restraint in ways I’m not ready for.

Still… I don’t hate the idea.

Not even a little.

If anything, I want this woman closer.

Which is probably the biggest red flag of all.

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