Judging from the notifications indicated on Facebook, I suspected I wouldn’t have to look any farther. I tapped the app and then clicked on my name, certain I would have been tagged in whatever was going on now.
I was right. Within two taps on the screen, I was there.
The new blog was brief and once again anonymous. It simply stated I could protest the truth as much as I wanted. That it wouldn’t change who I was and what I did. It then called for parents of children who’d had a photo shoot with me to come forward with their concerns. To talk openly about any worrying signs they might have seen in their children after working with me. And in an effort to lend a helping hand, the blogger proceeded to list signs of sexual abuse the parents should look for.
I slipped the phone into my pocket, glanced around, expecting angry hoards to attack, then rushed to my car.
Harper and I went to my apartment, again out of reflex more than anything else. A few reporters were waiting. Much less than last time, but still.
I kept driving right back to Noah’s.
There were two reporters waiting. At least they looked like reporters.
They’d found us. Of course they had. With Noah’s name coming up and then my video this morning, I might as well have thrown chum into the ocean and expected the sharks to ignore it.
I called Noah. He didn’t answer, so I left a message. Little chance he’d be able to understand it with my frantic panicking.
Harper and I drove for over half an hour.
There was nowhere to go. Maybe a coffee shop? A dog park?
I didn’t feel safe anywhere. Maybe no one would notice me, but maybe they would.
Everything was getting more and more out of control. Maybe Noah was right, if it got much worse, I really was going to have to get a lawyer.
Finally, I gave up and went back to Noah’s, pulled in his parking spot, scooped up Harper and booked it to the rear door of the apartment. We made it inside before they noticed and I tried to breathe a sigh of relief. But I couldn’t. I didn’t feel relieved. I just felt trapped.
Chapter Twenty-Three
IF YOUwere secure enough in thewhoof who you are, the core of what makes you you, other people’s words would take no effect. That old saying of sticks and stones was true.
You knew the truth of the person you were. And when that knowledge is solid, you were unbreakable.
Yeah. Right.
The sticks and the stones that hurt previously did begin to break me.
Once again my body closed down for business. No sex happening. It was all I could do to let Noah hold me.
I did no work. Not that I was getting any calls for appointments. Not even for erotic massages or photography. Apparently the strength of the new rumors had the power to turn off even that clientele.
I wouldn’t even answer Kayla’s calls. If it weren’t for Noah’s assurances to her he was taking care of me, I had no doubt she’d be over and breaking down the door.
There was no leaving the house.
I let Noah battle the hordes of reporters as he walked the dogs and went to work.
After a bit, very few tears fell and very little food was eaten.
There was only cuddling with the dogs and sleeping.
And hiding.
I WASN’Tlying there thinking or dramatizing, at least after a point. My brain simply shut off. It was all too much. Too much to think about. Too much to face.
It wasn’t a conscious choice. It just happened. Simply my mind and body’s reaction. Maybe the only way it knew to protect itself.
I did hate that it proved how weak I was. That it required Noah to take care of me.
