She curls on top of me, her body tense but shaking.
I bury my head in her hair. “It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be fine now. I’m not letting go, Indie. I’m here, and I’m going to make everything right, baby, I promise. I’ve got you.”
There are a lot of questions I want to ask. Right now I just need to hold her.
My heart breaks with hers as she sobs in my lap, clinging to my chest. I feel her pain so acutely, I can barely breathe. “I love you,” I whisper over and over.
We sit that way for about ten minutes until her body starts to relax.
She moves, and I sit straighter so she can raise her head.
“Hey,” I say, smiling and stroking her damp hair out of her face. With puffy red eyes, she’s still ten times more beautiful than any other woman. I stroke her face, still in fucking awe that she’s mine. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not even going to comment on that. Please tell me how it got out. How does everyone know about my family?”
“Denny is trying to find out exactly who is responsible. He will, and I’ll sue the shit out of them.”
“It won’t change anything, though, will it? Everyone knows.”
“Some dickhead must have done some digging into you and paid off the right person.” I omit the part about her teacher for now. It’s just another person letting her down who was supposed to protect her.
“I hate this,” she whispers, climbing off my lap.
“I’m sorting it. Indie, please.”
Standing, she looks around the room. “This was supposed to be a fresh start. Mum is doing well—she’s sober—and now everyone knows my past and what happened to my dad. They know about Mum’s rehab stint.”
“Indie?” someone calls from around the corner.
She’s not reached the living room yet, but she’s heard us.
Indie’s mum.
I watch on as she appears. My stomach churns with anger. She looks nothing like Indie really, besides the same shade of chocolate hair. She’s slightly taller than Indie, but pale and very thin.
Her eyes slide to mine.
Indie must get her dark eyes from her father.
“Who is this?” her mum asks.
I’m about to meet the mum, and it’s so different to what I thought it would be.
I stand, my heart racing over the fact that Indie hasn’t said a word yet. She’s worked so hard to keep us separate but we can’t go back to that now. This person has left so many scars on the woman I love. I want to shout at her, but I know Indie doesn’t want that.
I force myself to smile. “I’m Spencer.”
“The boyfriend? It’s nice you meet you, Spencer. I’m Jessica.” She slides her suspicious eyes between us both. “What’s going on?”
“They know. Everyone knows,” Indie says.
“What?”
“It was all leaked to the media. Our whole life. The alcohol, Dad’s death, your rehab. Everything.”
Jessica frowns. “You’re not making sense, Indie. The media. Why would they care about us?”
“Spencer’s first movie just came out. It’s a blockbuster hit. The press must have seen us together so they started digging. There’s a story about us.” Her voice is cold, bitter, and pissed off.
My heart sinks. She blames me, too.
Am I losing her?
Forty-Four
Indie
It took a long time for Spencer to leave yesterday. He was worried about everything, but Mum and I needed to talk. When Mum went to sleep—after crying in bed for an hour—I called him. We spoke for a short time, but it was enough to pull me back from the utter despair I was feeling.
It was around eight in the evening when reporters showed up outside. Spence isn’t only hot news in America. Now we’re prisoners in our own home.
I slept like crap, waking at five a.m.
It’s now almost eleven a.m., and all Mum has done so far is drink tea and trawl through articles about what a shitty parent she’s been. She’s read over and over how ‘poor Indie’ must have suffered.
I’m guilty of looking, too. It was stupid, and I regret it. I read a comment saying HER OWN PARENTS DON’T EVEN LOVE HER. WHY IS SPENCER BOTHERING???
Three question marks. Like she absolutely can’t comprehend us as a couple. THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT INDIE CROFT. Another person said that Spencer needs someone to walk in the limelight with him. Never have I asked him to hide. I’m the one who has pushed him so many times whenever he had a knockback. No one knows that, though. They only assume I want to keep him from the world.
Spencer assured me that he’s dealing with it, or Denny is, but the internet is forever. He can’t make it go away, no matter how much we all want it to. It’s out there. I can’t take that back, and I will never have the privacy I’ve fought so hard to protect.
I hate this. I can’t even leave for uni because everyone will look. Thanks to my relationship with Spencer, I’m on the radar. People care about what I do, who I am, and what I’ve been through. So many of them feel they get a say in whether or not I’m worthy of a Hollywood star. Like I don’t already struggle with that.
I rub the growing ache in my chest.
I really hate people.
“They’re still out there,” Mum says. She’s curled up on the sofa, nibbling her nails to the quick while she watches through a slither of space between the blinds. Her phone stops glowing as it locks. I bet if I was to open it, I would see the latest article she’s torturing herself with.
“Mum, stop.” I sit down beside her. “They don’t matter.”
“When will it end? Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend is a fucking movie star?”
I flinch. She hasn’t sworn since she was drunk.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen. Spencer tried so hard to keep me out of the public eye.”
“No, I’m
