Landon & Shay: Part Two (L&S Duet #2)(50)

When in reality, she was everything and more.

I couldn’t stop overanalyzing every second I’d spent with Shay that day. My mind kept replaying the ways I’d screwed up. I shouldn’t have slept with her. Did I want to? Absolutely. Was it a mistake? Guaranteed.

Not because it wasn’t good—because it was. It was better than good. The last time I’d felt something so passionate, raw, and real was when I was with her.

It was no surprise the sex was unbelievable, but truthfully it ended up doing more damage than good. I hurt her. I fucking hurt her again, and I was a damn asshole for doing so.

Dr. Smith would’ve told me to stop thinking about what happened and focus on what came next. The problem was, I didn’t know what came next when it came to Shay.

After seeing all the tabloids that made me look a little too close with certain women at the whiskey party, I was sure Shay wanted nothing to do with me ever again. It blew my mind how those magazines could take a perfectly innocent situation and make it appear as if some kind of scandal was happening. How did those people sleep at night?

Probably on their silk sheets with a smile on their faces.

“What do you mean a sabbatical? We don’t have time for a vacation.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a vacation. I said I needed one.” A key to working on my mental health was realizing my triggers. I’d become pretty good at realizing when my thoughts were beginning to run away from me. Dr. Smith taught me that if I learned to catch those thoughts early on, then it made it easier to slow them down. If I caught them too late it were as if I was running at full speed ahead, and by the time I came to the realization that I was falling apart, it’d be too late and I’d crash.

Joey narrowed his eyes and leaned back against my kitchen island. “Your mind going wonky again?”

“I feel out of sorts. I’ve been going nonstop for a while now, and I don’t want to burn out. If I keep at this pace, burning out is the only option. Which will lead to an even bigger, and scarier break.”

He frowned as he ran his hand over his face. “It’s that bad, huh?”

I nodded. “Heading in that direction. It’s been a while since I’ve done something good for my soul.”

“You just won an Oscar! If that’s not good for your soul, I don’t know what is.”

“No, I mean giving back. Helping in communities. I want to go to a few underprivileged areas and really dig in on helping with the topic of mental health.”

I’d been telling Joey this for years now, and he always rolled it off his back, thinking I was just being dramatic. “Just write a hefty check to some organization, and get back to work,” he’d always tell me. “They need your money, not your appearance.”

But that didn’t seem like enough for me.

I was one of the lucky bastards who had enough money to get me the best care in the world. There were so many people who didn’t have that same privilege—especially the youth. I wanted to look them in the eye and tell them my story. I wanted to remind them that just because they struggled, they weren’t alone. I wanted to create an open dialogue around mental health and give back both with money and my time.

Joey had an issue with that idea, because in his mind time was money and if something wasn’t bringing us money, then we didn’t have time for it.

“We don’t have time for that right now, Landon. It’s your primetime!”

“It’s been my primetime for the past ten years.”

“Exactly, which is why you shouldn’t let your mind slip. Think of everything you have. You have everything that everyone ever dreamed of. You’re fucking rich, you’re talented, and you could have any girl you’d ever wanted.”

Not any girl—that was a fact.

He continued. “I just don’t get what you have to be sad about. You’re Landon Pace, baby!”

“Harrison,” I corrected. “Landon Pace is a made-up persona. That’s not who I am.”

“Yes, but that’s who made you something.”

I grimaced at his words. As if my acting career was what made me matter, other than the fact that I was a living, breathing human. I didn’t argue with him, because I was tired and I knew Joey wouldn’t see things from my point of view. He believed that money brought happiness and couldn’t for the life of himself understand what the hell I had to be sad about.

He must’ve picked up on the energy of the room and he gave me a halfway grin. “Listen, how about this. Take the month off. We’ll do that, then film Ether here in Chicago, and then I’ll work it in for you to get some more time off.”

“I’ll need six months to get started with what I want to do,” I told him, and I swore he cringed as if he’d been told someone was going to cut off his big toe.

“We can work on the amount of time when we get there. Until then, take the month to get your head in check. I’ll handle everything else coming up. You just worry about keeping yourself together.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Joey.”

“Anything for my star. It looks like the whiskey party was a success. You posed with all the right girls.”

“I posed with every girl.” Except the one I wanted.

“I know. Which is right. Sex appeal sells. That’s why your career took off from the jump—remember the Calvin Klein ad?”