Eli laughs again, still shaky. “Okay, yeah. Too soon.”
Rafe drags a hand over his face. “I hate that it got like that.”
“It’s not your fault,” Drew says immediately.
“It kind of is,” Rafe replies, bitter for the first time. “I mean?—”
Miles cuts in, voice calm but definitive. “It’s not your fault. It’s the environment. It’s the escalation. It’s people forgetting you’re a person.”
Silence again.
I stare out the window at the blur of streets and sunlight and normal life. Then I say what’s been forming in my head since the moment that girl grabbed his arm. “You might need to start thinking about security.”
The words land heavy.
Eli turns around in his seat. “Dude?—”
“I’m serious,” I say. “That wasn’t just annoying. That was unsafe.”
Rafe’s head turns toward me sharply. “Ollie….”
“We got lucky,” I continue, keeping my voice even. “That it was just a few fans and not… worse. That it was daylight. That there were enough of us. But what if you’re alone next time? Or with just one of the guys? What if it’s outside a venue and people are drunk?”
Rafe’s jaw tightens.
Miles nods slowly. “He’s right.”
The implications bloom in my chest like ice. Security means more people. More eyes. More risk. It also means bringing someone else into the fold of our life. Into our secret. Into the thing we’ve managed—somehow—to protect.
Even as I say it, I realize what it could mean for us.
We’re already pushing our luck living together, even if officially we don’t. We have nondisclosures, sure. We have doormen and staff and a housekeeper who comes twice a week and have signed paperwork thicker than my playbook.
And still there’s been nothing. No gossip. No photos. No Rafe slipping in and out of our building captured by some hungry camera. No whisper campaigns.
Security changes the math. It makes everything official in a way we can’t take back.
Rafe stares at his hands for a long moment, then glances at Miles.
“Call Rachael,” Miles says without hesitation.
Rafe looks at me again, searching. “You’re sure?”
I hesitate only because of what it could cost, but his manager needs to know. Then I nod. “Yes.”
Miles taps his phone, connecting Bluetooth. The line rings once, twice.
Rachael answers on the third ring, voice brisk and alert. “Miles.”
“Rach,” Miles says. “We had a situation.”
“What kind?”
Rafe inhales sharply. Drew shifts. Eli mutters something rude under his breath.
Miles keeps his tone controlled. “Fans. Breakfast spot. They rushed us. Someone grabbed Rafe.”
There’s a pause, and then Rachael’s voice hardens. “Are you all safe?”
