Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters, #2)

by Tessa Bailey

He’d never been jealous over a girl in his life. Except for this one. When he’d caught sight of Sergei bundling Hannah down the stairs of the bus, his head ducked toward her in concern, that ugly green had splashed across his vision like a rogue wave across the deck, reminding him of the first time he’d heard the director’s name. His first impulse had been to break the guy’s nose—the opposite of what he should be doing. If Hannah was his friend, why would he want to mess up her budding romance? Maybe he was jealous in a friendly way? A total possibility.

I can help others—I like doing that—but I’m a supporting actress, not a leading lady.

did not appreciate having to read this <3

Looking pointedly at her dress, Christian gave an appreciative snort. “So, what are you, like, trying now?” “Could you do the same, please? It took you sixteen takes to nail four lines of dialogue this morning.”

ICONIC

Fox wished he had his shirt off, so he could feel less exposed. And what sense did that make?

A dull ache spread down the middle of her chest, deepening so quickly that she had to press a palm to the spot, rubbing to alleviate the pressure. The pain he’d revealed last night had walked across the bed and burrowed into her breast, refusing to vacate—and she didn’t want it to leave. She didn’t want him to carry it alone. He’d clearly been doing that a long time, letting the damage fester.

“Just this, Hannah?” His long fingers slid up into her hair to cradle the back of her head, subtly tilting it to the left and brushing his lips along her pulse. “Just hugging for us?”

why did this make me emotional

“I’m jealous as fuck.” He seemed to be having a hard time getting breath into his lungs. “You’re . . . my Hannah, you know?”

Fox, having an easy time picturing that, smiled. “What is it that you love so much about them?” She tugged the hem of her dress down, drawing his eye. “The fact that someone thought about me, I guess. Wanted me to feel special.”

“I had it bad for you. If the convention didn’t make it obvious, I thought for sure the Fleetwood Mac album would do it.” His voice stumbled. “I’ve got it so bad for you, Hannah. Really”—he blew out a breath—“really bad. I tried to keep you out of here.” He knocked his free fist against his chest. “But you won’t go. You’re never going to go. You just won’t.”

“God, Hannah. What if I’m not what you need? What if everyone knows it but you? What if you realize it’s true and I have you . . . then lose you? That would fucking kill me. I don’t know what to do—”

Even the people who were supposed to love him—Brendan, Kirk and Melinda, his own mother—had looked at him and seen a character beyond repair.