“Only a couple more scenes,” Troy said. “And we’ll just be using the harnesses for support in those. No more throwing ourselves into the cavern.”
“Hallelujah. You guys are hell on engineers.” Don pulled a drill out of the toolbox. “I’m going to do a few tests while you’re all next door.”
“Knock yourself out.” Troy wrapped the towel around his neck. “I’ll bring you back some cake.”
He wandered from the cave, wincing at the ruthless Vegas afternoon sun. Passing equipment trailers and tents, he tossed the towel over his head to give himself a shield as he trekked across the desert set, then paused after stepping inside to let his eyes adjust to the new darkness.
An excited buzz filled the cave with lots of chatter and light laughter, but Troy’s ears homed in on the strum of a guitar. The simple sound evoked a rush of sweet memories—wildflowers stolen from a random garden, washing, brushing, and braiding her hair as she played with new lyrics or new chords, staying up late to catch Saturday Night Live even when they both had to work in the morning, but unable to take his eyes off her face when she fell asleep on his lap… They went on and on, overwhelming him in a sudden wash of emotion—so much love, so much loss. Sometimes it still mystified him how something so good could have gone so bad.
“Quiet, everyone, quiet.”
Jeff’s voice dragged Troy’s thoughts back to the present, and he wandered deeper into the cave and stepped off to the side, into the shadows. He gripped the ends of the towel tight, anticipating both pleasure and pain when Giselle opened that beautiful mouth.
Jeff went through the motions of instructing everyone watching to stay quiet, gave the actors in the foreground a couple of notes, and checked the camera angles.
Giselle leaned against a simple wooden stool on stage, one heel of one cowboy-booted foot hooked in the rungs. She wore ripped jeans that hugged her beautiful legs and a translucent blouse with a floral pattern. Her hair was braided down one side and hanging over one shoulder, almost touching the body of the guitar where it rested in her lap.
She could still steal his breath.
“Ready…” Jeff said.
Giselle started strumming, and the crisp, smooth notes filled the space. Troy instantly recognized the song “All These Regrets,” from her latest album. A song that emphasized both the range and power of her voice, a song that could rip Troy’s heart out and bring him to fucking tears when he listened to it alone, the volume cranked up, his headphones on. He’d always thought that was as close to touching Giselle as he’d ever get again.
“And…action.”
The camera’s lights flashed red, the actors read their lines, the extras played their parts, but all Troy saw or heard was Giselle. Her voice had grown even richer, deeper, and stronger than he’d been able to appreciate on her album recordings. And just as it always had, her voice moved him. His chest filled. His heart squeezed. His eyes burned. Tingles spread through his body, raising gooseflesh along his skin. The emotions she could elicit with the simple combination of voice, words, and guitar chords remained unfathomable.
She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the ceiling, opening her throat to belt out a line in the song with such passion, such talent, no one could doubt that voice was a gift straight from heaven. A gift she was now using to bring joy to millions, not just Troy, reminding him that everything happened for a reason.
But in that moment, he would have sold his soul to the devil for one chance to make different choices in his life. One chance to go back in time and handle everything with Giselle in their last months together, in this last week together, differently.
A murmur rumbled in the back right corner of the cave. The unacceptable noise during filming drew everyone’s gaze. Giselle continued singing, oblivious to the fact that the shot had been ruined and would have to be redone.
“Cut, cut…” Jeff turned to Giselle as she sat back on her stool, stilling her guitar strings. “Sorry, honey.” He turned toward the back of the room again. “Whoever’s making noise, get the hell—”
A louder clatter came from the far corner, followed by a female scream, a cloud of dust, then Jeff’s rough “What the hell’s going on back—”
Rocks tumbled from the ceiling. Screams and yells echoed through the cave. The hair on Troy’s neck prickled. He pushed through the crowd toward the commotion. Until more rock fell. And dust erupted through the cave in a murky cloud.
Alarm stopped Troy’s feet and turned him toward the stage. Giselle had pushed from the stool and pulled her guitar strap off, but held the guitar close like a shield, her eyes wide, darting and scared. Before he could take one step toward the stage, more rocks tumbled from the ceiling.
Like falling dominos, rock cascaded, the devastation running toward the stage. Stalactites dropped and toppled. Screams ricocheted through the space. Panic erupted. And Troy became a salmon swimming upstream, trying to reach Giselle while everyone else rushed for the exit.
Troy fought his way between and around people pushing to get through. He kept his eyes pinned to Giselle, which was easy because she was frozen in terror, standing in the middle of the stage—beneath a cluster of stalactites.
“Ellie!” His yell drowned in the chaos. His gaze darted to the ceiling, to Giselle, to the nearest exit. And panic burned up his spine. “Giselle!”
She didn’t hear him. Just curled around that damn guitar like it was a magic shield.
Urgency drove him forward. Someone elbowed him in the ribs. Someone else kicked his shins, knocked his head, nailed his jaw. Still, he drove through the surging, panicked crowd toward Giselle.
He gained five feet and reassessed—ceiling, Giselle, exit.
Fuck.
His strategy shifted from getting her out to getting her to safety. And he was almost there. Turning sideways, he pushed between two production assistants, diving onto the stage. “Ellie—”
But he didn’t have time to say more. The ceiling came flying at them. Troy grabbed her arm, dragged her into him, and yanked her into a dive off the stage and beneath the nearest table. He landed on his back and immediately flipped her over, covering her body with his.