Her security had been violated, and even though it could’ve been much, much worse… there was a toll it would take, and she’d be paying it.
Victims always did.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I hate being alone, Ronan. I don’t like being alone and under guard. It freaks me out.”
“That’s understandable. Here.” I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently steered her over to the pretty bench at the foot of her bed… touching her, which I’d told myself I wasn’t gonna do. There was no need to put my hands on her.
But I did.
I wanted to make her feel safe, and I’d do that any way I could.
She sat, and I took my hands back. I sat down next to her. “We can make some changes, to make this work for you. Whatever you need. You need to feel safe and secure in your own home.”
She nodded.
“What do you need, Summer?”
She took a breath. “I need to have my friends over. I want to have a party.”
I would’ve laughed, it sounded so absurd to me. But she was serious.
She looked up at me, and God help me, I was a sucker for those pale-blue eyes.
“Okay,” I told her. “Then we’ll have a party.”
Chapter Eleven
Summer
I thought I was okay. I really did.
But then Ronan left, and anxiety started to slip in through the cracks.
Yesterday, I flipped out over a “lost” key that wasn’t even lost. A key that didn’t even open any doors to my house anymore, since the locks had been changed. I even yelled at Maddox at the peak of my freak-out—and felt like a complete asshole afterwards.
Then Ronan returned.
On a motorcycle.
And holy shit, that was inconvenient.
I’d watched from my bedroom window as he parked and took off his helmet. The bike was big and badass and all-black. And the man riding it? He’d ditched his plain leather jacket in favor of a rugged black leather motorcycle jacket, his dress shoes in favor of boots.
And he looked waaay too hot straddling that machine with his muscular, jean-clad thighs.
I leapt back from the window as he got off; I wasn’t sure if he’d caught me scoping him out.
But when he appeared at my bedroom door, I’d almost flung myself into his arms.
How could someone I’d just met make me feel so damn safe?
Maddox didn’t make me feel that safe. He didn’t make me feel unsafe, either. I didn’t actually think anything was going to happen to me, in my own home, in the middle of the day, with him and his guys here. I knew, technically, I was safe. But I didn’t feel it until Ronan rode his bike into my driveway.
And then I heard him semi-yelling at Maddox downstairs.
Later, when Maddox and his guys left, I’d slipped him a nice, fat joint that I’d personally rolled with my favorite Amaretto-flavored rolling papers, and an apology. At least it didn’t seem like he was gonna carry any kind of grudge. I actually got more of a “he thinks I’m prone to hysteria, but cute” vibe.
After that, I’d been up half the night, at least, unable to sleep. Just feeling restless and uneasy. And jumping at every little noise from outside.
Today, I’d tried to keep my mind occupied with other things. I’d asked a few friends to come over to help me get ready for the party tonight. And I’d remembered to book myself a hair appointment with my amazing stylist. Elle kept insisting there was no discernible damage from the hair-catching-on-fire incident, but I wanted a trim just to be sure.
Then I’d spent the rest of the morning chatting with my bandmates, trying to distract myself. I’d talked to both Ashley and Xander over the phone, and I’d been messaging Matt, commenting on his Instagram posts from the Dirty tour. Matt Brohmer was one of the few rock stars I knew at his level who actually posted his own stuff. Ash and Xander sure as hell didn’t.
I knew I was in trouble when I actually sent Matt a cute meme of a kitten playing a bass guitar.
Time to put the internet down and back slowly away.
I practically danced with relief when Elle arrived just after lunch.
I hugged her immediately.
Then I hugged Flynn, who looked both uncomfortable (for himself) and sympathetic (for me). He said something about going for a smoke, then disappeared out to the driveway.
“How’re you doing?” Elle asked me as soon as we were alone. Ronan had briefly come to check out who was here, then disappeared back into his room, where he was presumably working on security guy stuff. I’d let him know that Elle was coming over, so at least he didn’t give her the ice-cold stare down that Carissa had received.
“I’m doing my best to carry on with life as usual,” I told her as we headed to the kitchen. She sat at the bar while I put on coffee. “But nothing is usual about this.”
“I know, babe.”
“We’re waiting for the damn restraining order. I keep thinking I’ll feel better once I know it’s in place, but really, what’s the difference? Either way, if he shows up here again, I call the police. Or Ronan does. A piece of paper won’t keep him away.”
“It may. It makes the penalty to him a lot worse if he comes anywhere near you. Why would he risk that?”
“Why would he climb my house like cracked out Spider-Man in the first place?”
Elle scowled. “Cracked out?”
“Ronan said he had a pipe on him. He found it in the yard.” I hesitated, then added, “He offered meth to some of my girls, at my shows.”
Elle went silent, but her look of disgust and concern said it all. I hadn’t told her about that.
Maybe I should’ve. She would’ve pushed me to talk to Brody or Jude sooner, and maybe I would’ve listened, and none of this would’ve happened.
Who was I kidding. I wouldn’t have listened.
“What do you think he was planning to do if he got in
