My heart aches knowing the one person I want to run to is Roxy. I want to hug her and confess everything. But how can I? We’re best friends—more like soul sisters. I tell her everything, so why do I suddenly feel as if this isn’t a secret I can share? Why do I feel like I can never speak the truth to another living, breathing soul besides Cas? The fear and anxiety are already eating me alive, and my brain isn’t even fully awake.
I throw my arms over my eyes, fighting the urge to cry. Emotionally, I’m exhausted from trying to process yesterday. I’m beginning to think I might be a walking PR nightmare for Cas. My life has become such a hot mess. I got myself stabbed by a deranged fan at my first event of the year, and yesterday I killed my jealous ex-boyfriend.
I roll over in bed. Maybe the universe is telling me to let Cas go. All these bad things keep happening. What if fate is telling me to stick to the plan of being single? A knot takes form in my stomach, twisting and turning the more I think about it. Do I even have feelings for him, or is my attraction built completely on sex? I mean, I know next to nothing about him. Except I do know the minute he could get on a plane to be by my side, he did. Before that, he skipped a weekend off for rest to see me again. He even flew like the rest of us peasants do. I smile to myself. He cares about me, but do I care about him?
A knock on my door, and Cas’s deep voice interrupts my tumultuous thoughts. “Hey there, gorgeous. I brought breakfast.” He holds up the tray from yesterday. “Surprise, it’s pancakes again. Also, it’s more like lunch. We both slept through breakfast, sorry.”
I scoot up in bed and smile faintly. The normal spark between us is missing. As if he can sense it too, he comes and sits on the bed facing me.
“I can tell today feels hard, but it’s going to get easier. Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is soft and gentle.
I shake my head, biting my lip. How can I even think about throwing away a chance with the man of my dreams? He’s everything I want in a partner. The calm to my chaos, my strength when I feel weak, unwavering devotion. He’s also hot, talented, and amazing in bed. It’s all so confusing.
He takes my hand. “I’ve got you, Vivienne. Let me take care of you. The police have all my information and know not to involve you.”
“Okay,” I whisper, not wanting to be problematic.
I don’t want to deal with the police or anything else for that matter. Probably because it’s going to be hard enough to lie to Roxy. I know the police would pick apart all Cas’s hard work he put into covering it up. I can’t be trusted to talk to them, not with such a guilty conscience.
We eat our pancakes in silence, the tension building between us like at any moment it might burst. I wonder if he feels it? He’s so relaxed and confident that everything will work out.
When Cas is finished, he clears his throat. “My flight leaves later around six. Have you given any more thought to coming with me?”
“I don’t think I can,” I answer softly.
“It would help keep your mind off things if you weren’t constantly surrounded by reminders. I don’t want to leave you here like this. I can’t trust you’ll get out of bed or feed yourself,” he confesses, worry lines creasing his face.
“Cas, I have to finish my tour. I have contracts,” I start to explain.
He recoils in shock. “What do you mean you’re going to continue your tour?”
“Exactly what I said. It’s how I make over fifty percent of my income.” I can’t believe he thought I would cancel my appearances.
“What if I pay you everything you’d lose out on?” he suggests, as if it’s not absurd.
I shake my head. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I could never do that to the industry or my fans. I definitely couldn’t do that to Roxy. I don’t know how to explain this in terms you might understand, but I’m like a headliner. People who bought tickets to the show get my cover in their swag bags, and thousands of copies have been ordered for sale during each convention.”
“I’m not discounting the work you’ve done or your career. I’m worried about you. You said it yourself. You were stabbed at an event. Do you understand how hard it was not being there for you in Texas?” His eyes plead with mine like he thinks I’m unreasonable.
“Roxy was there, and I’m fine. It was more of a scratch than it was a stab,” I scoff, brushing off his concern.
“You got stitches, Vivienne. People with scratches don’t get stitches.” I can hear the irritation lacing his voice.
It seems like Mr. Used-to-Getting-His-Way doesn’t like being told no. “Agree to disagree.” I shrug him off.
He’s being overbearing, and I don’t like it. The point of my breakup was to spread my wings and fly. I don’t want to be caged by another relationship. If there’s one thing Jackson was not, it was possessive. In retrospect, maybe that was a red flag—he wasn’t invested in our relationship and didn’t actually care for me the way I did him. I thought I liked Cas and his overprotective vibes, until right now when I no longer like him trying to control me.
“No.”
“Why are you being so fucking difficult right now, Cas?” I snap, my patience wearing thin.
“Why are you fucking downplaying what happened to you, Vivienne?” he growls in response.
Whoa. Cas has never gotten angry with me before, and I think he’s pissed. He doesn’t even look at me. Instead he’s looking past me. “What is this about? I’m sorry I’m not going to walk away from my dreams for you. I barely even know anything about you.”
I cross my arms, falling against my pillows, shooting daggers at him in my mind. I gauge his reaction carefully, watching every micro-movement in his face.
“Is this really how you feel? I just lied to the cops and covered up a murder, Vivienne. Murder. I thought that might be enough to prove I’m nothing like him, but here we are, right.” He almost sounds defeated, but I’m too pissed he brought up Jackson.
