Coach ends up dropping me off at a hotel. The entrance to my building is jammed with camera crews, vans, tripods, and people milling about waiting to get a glimpse of me. Even if we could get inside, I’d be cooped up in there knowing that I’m trapped inside unless I want to go through all of them. If there’s one thing being with Jesse has taught me, it’s that money and celebrity come with perks that can make my life a whole lot easier.
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Get some rest, Martín. And call me if you need anything.”
I wave him off and check in to the hotel, making sure that no visitors are allowed to ring through or come up to my room. When the door clicks shut behind me, silence crashes down, almost as loud as the mob of reporters.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull out my phone and hover over Jesse’s name. After turning off all my notifications and news apps, I’d sent Jesse another text–my third of the day, but there’s been little response other than a short, “I’ll fix this.”
I’m not sure if he wants to talk, but I call anyway. Like the incident with Jesse’s cloud account getting hacked, it feels like we’re allowing too much distance to settle between us when we should be supporting each other.
It rings. And rings. I’m just about to give up when the line picks up.
“Luc?” Jesse’s voice is pained, raspy in a way that sounds raw rather than sexy.
“Yeah.” I sink back onto the pillows, my hand resting across my forehead. “Sorry it’s so late. I should have called earlier, but it’s been…” I huff out a breath. There isn’t a word for the unexpected bombardment today turned into. “It’s been a lot.”
“Baby, I am so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I remind him. “It’s more than we wanted to deal with, but we’ll get through this.”
“You don’t want to run for the hills yet?”
“I’ve got my running shoes on and everything,” I tell him. “But I’m staying put. My condo is swarmed so I’m lying low at a hotel.”
“That’s smart. You need to stay safe. These people are like vultures.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you okay? Staying somewhere safe?”
“I’m trying to fix this,” he says. “My PR team is working on it from all angles, but it’s taken off even more than we expected. Who knew we’d be the ‘it’ power couple of the year and it’s only January?”
I chuckle humorlessly. There’s a quiet stretch where I can hear him breathing. We trade small reassurances that feel as fragile as my tenuous control over my emotions. The affection is there, but there’s an awkward silence that spotlights everything we don’t say. I want to tell him that I love him, that we’ll weather this storm together, that everything will be okay. Of course, I don’t know that everything will actually be okay. My life is forever changed. But I’m less afraid than I was before, because I know what we have together is worth it. What we have is worth it. But I’ve never been good at words. Instead, I just tell him those three little words that mean so much more than words can ever express.
“I love you.”
When we finally hang up, I stare at the photo I stupidly saved as my screen saver. The moment felt huge, but really it was such a small, simple gesture. A kiss to ring in the new year, stolen quickly in the shadows. Yet the bomb that’s detonated because of it has blown everything apart.
I trace the edge of the screen with my thumb and remember the way Jesse makes me feel, how he’s always made me feel, from the first night I met him. Is it naïve to wish to be nothing morethan two people in love? Not headlines and mobs of flashing cameras and intrusive questions.
How long will it take before the world quiets again? Or is that gone forever?
THIRTY-THREE
JESSE
I’m not asleep when Blake kicks my door open. I’m not sure I’ve gotten any real sleep in days. The sound of the door hitting the wall makes me jolt upright, heart in my throat.
“What–” My voice is raw, like I’ve been screaming even though I haven’t. I’ve wanted to, but there’s no point.
Blake stands there with his phone in his hand. His eyes are sharp, worried. “The extra security finally got to Cane Ridge this afternoon,” he says, no preamble. “But it was too late.”
Ice slides down my spine. “What does that mean?!”
“Everyone’s okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “But Luc’s youngest sister–”
“Talia,” I fill in for him.
He nods. “A photographer harassed her on the way to school this morning. She was riding her bike and swerved off the road.” His voice softens. “She’s thankfully okay. Quite a few scrapes and bruises, and she’s shaken up, but there weren’t any broken bones or anything like that. Luc is on his way to the hospital,where she’s been moved to a private room until security can set the family up somewhere more secure.”
