I frown. “Is he—”
“Just let him go,” Kenta instructs, “and slowly lean back. It’ll kill him if he accidentally hurts you.”
“He won’thurtme.”
“It’s very unlikely, yes. But he’s having a flashback, so you can never be certain.”
Aflashback.The word shocks through my gut, and guilt seeps into me. Did I cause this? I try to pull my hand back, but Matt catches my wrist, squeezing me tightly. He’s still not looking at me, staring hard at something over my head.
“Matt,” Kenta sounds cautious. “Let her go.”
Matt’s fingers loosen around my wrist. Slowly, I turn my hand in his grip, twisting my fingers through his until our palms press together. I don’t remember the last time I held hands with someone, but it feels surprisingly natural as I rub my thumb over the back of his hand. He closes his eyes, trembling slightly. Even though all of his muscles are locked, I can feel the energy roaring inside of him. It’s taking a lot out of him to stay still like this.
“It’s okay,” I tell him quietly. “You’re okay.”
Slowly, he opens his eyes again, glancing around the car. His broad shoulders slump.
Kenta bends and pulls a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge, handing it to him. He stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“It’s cold,” Kenta says.
“Right,” Matt mutters. “Thanks.” He takes the bottle, pressing it to the side of his throat, then his cheek. “Let go of me, Briar.”
I do, tugging my sweat-slick fingers out of his just as we pull up outside the hotel. There’s a group of paparazzi waiting outside.
“Shit,” Kenta swears. “How the Hell did they find out where you’re staying?!”
“I guess it was only a matter of time,” Glen says glumly.
Kenta turns to Matt. “Should we move out?”
“I don’t know,” Matt says, staring at the men blankly.
“Should I—”
Matt runs a hand through his hair, tugging agitatedly. “I don’t know! I don’t fucking know what to do!”
Kenta nods. “We’ll go in,” he decides.
He and Glen flank me as we cross the pavement, stepping through the flashing lights and the obnoxious shouting.
“YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT, BRIAR!”
“BRIAR, ANY MORE WORDS FOR YOUR STALKER?”
“BRIAR, WHY DID YOU LEAVE THE PRESS EVENT SO SUDDENLY?”
I keep my mouth firmly shut as we step inside the hotel’s glass doors and head towards the lift. Kenta uses our special keycard to unlock the block on our floor, and then we all stand in awkward silence as the lift shoots upward. I huddle into myself. The elevator car seems too small for all of us, as if there’s not enough air in here for everyone. Matt stands in his own corner, his face a tight, blank mask. His posture is ramrod straight, like a soldier’s.
The doors open, and we pad down the thickly carpeted corridor and into our suite. When we’re finally safe inside, I take a deep breath, turning to look at Matt. He’s leaning heavily against the wall, unloading his gun. There’s sweat on his forehead.
“I’m—” I trail off. I don’t know how to end that sentence. I’m notsorry,exactly. I won’t apologise for standing up for myself when I’m being harassed. But I’m sorry about whatever happened to him that gave him that awful haunted look in his eyes. I’m sorry if I triggered those memories back up, somehow.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he grates out, his voice rough. “I never should have told you about the picture.” His face twists. “Should’ve known you’d blow up.”
Any sympathy I might have been feeling for him melts away. I narrow my eyes. “Cute, Matt.”
“Go get some sleep,” Kenta advises him. “I’ll explain what’s happening to her.” Matt hesitates, and he sighs. “You’re jetlagged. Go to bed. We’ve got everything handled. She’ll make the apology.”
