“Get back,” Gabe says, voice firm as he steps closer to the man and me.
“Oh, come on, she’s not in a rush, she just spent?—”
“I said, get back,” Gabe says, voice rising.
“She’s being an uptight bitch,” he says, and despite everything, despite knowing the man is an asshole, it stings. I try to tell myself that nothing they say can hurt me. I have my shield on, because they aren’t saying it about me: they’re saying it about my shield. About the person, I show them.
But it still stings every time.
“If you don’t back off, I’m going to be forced to call the cops for harassment.”
“She’s a celebrity, this is what she signed up for,” the man says, and that familiar panic fills me, brewing and swirling in my chest. No amount of deep breaths will counter this; the only thing that will work is silence and a door between the crowd and me. Instead of responding to the man, Gabe looks at me, reads my face, and sees it.
“Car, now,” he says, moving and opening the door, letting me slide in. I don’t argue, not as he slams the door shut, then returns to arguing with the man. I’m sure the press is going to have a field day with this, framing me as a self-important diva who is rude to fans, but I can’t focus on that right now. Instead, I close my eyes, take deep, measured breaths, and remind myself that I’m okay in this moment, that I’m safe.
After a minute or so, Gabe slides into the car wordlessly and then drives off. Once we’re far enough that he feels comfortable, he pulls over to the shoulder and calls Jaime on the car’s Bluetooth. He fills his boss in on what just happened, but my mind is still swimming, so I barely listen to their conversation. The call ends, and silence fills the car once again.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod, even though he can’t see it before I speak.
“I should have just talked to him,” I whisper, my voice fragile even to my own ears.
“Willa—”
“He has a job to do,” I continue. “He has bills to pay, and if I had just?—”
“His job is to respect boundaries. Everyone else can do it just fine. He should have respected both your time, personal space, and the fact that you were on private property.”
“But—” I start, but Gabe isn’t having it, his face firm.
“No. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with letting people push you around and thinking you need to accept it.”
“It’s all part of the job—” He turns in his seat, locking eyes with me and shaking his head.
“No, it’s not. I know Jackie tries to make it seem like your life isn’t your own, but there are hundreds of celebrities out there who don’t make themselves as available as you do. You should be able to do something for yourself, to get a goddamned coffee, without them harassing you.” I lift a shoulder half-heartedly.
“Well, after that, Leo’s probably going to send me off to some far-off land where no paparazzi can get to me until he’s ready for them to see me.” Gabe looks me over, his face going just a bit soft before he speaks.
“Maybe that would be good, Willa. Maybe you need that.” His words shock me to my core, and I don’t respond, too lost in my thoughts, but Gabe doesn’t push it, doesn’t try to get me to talk more, and I’m grateful for his ever-present silence. After a moment, he turns back around and drives me home. My hands shake the entire drive home, and I barely drink my coffee, and by the time I make it home, the only thing I can think about is getting out of the city.
FIVE
LEO
On Tuesday evening, I sit with a beer on the Adirondack chair I’d assembled that morning, enjoying the quiet of my backyard. Despite needing to reset the pavers and weed like wild out here, I know I’ll be spending a lot of time out here. Eventually, I’ll get an outdoor dining set and a grill, making it a space for entertaining, even though I don’t really have anyone to entertain.
Except, I might actually, because although I’ve done my best to stay away from Adam’s new friends and pseudo-family, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that it will be impossible here in Holly Ridge. On Monday, I got home from the city with barely any time to spare to meet the truck delivering the bed, mattress, and couch I’d bought to make the place livable while I work on it. Not five minutes after they drove off, I got a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
Do you need help with your furniture?
Because I can send Jesse over if you need.
A creeping knowing stirred in my gut, but I asked anyway.
Who is this?
Hallie. Do you need help? I just saw a furniture truck drive down the road.
