“You can still have that without this job. Just find something else. It isn’t like he’s going to lock you up in here, though you may want to consider it for a while.”
Face draining of blood, I squeak, “Why?”
“You’ve worked in this industry for how long? C’mon. Everyone is going to be on you the second you resurface. They’ll want to know how you snatched him up, why, when, and everything in between. Garrick gets followed everywhere he goes. He ignores it, pretends the people pointing cameras don’t exist, but they’re there. Always harassing. Always waiting for the next story. You should know that since you were one of them, ready to sink your talons in the second you got the chance.”
His words penetrate the part of me that I like keeping locked up. They’re true, and that’s why they hurt. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t get you. And it’s hard for me to trust people that I don’t understand.”
I cringe. “I get that. And just so you know, I never wanted to do him any harm by writing about him. Or anyone I was assigned to.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
My throat feels tight as I stare down at my lap, my fingers twisting together nervously. “I’m afraid of who I’ll become if I have to start relying on other people, that’s why I don’t know what to do about this.”
Chase stands, closing his laptop and slipping it under his arm. “Hate to break it to you, but you signed up for this knowing that there was going to be attention on you and what cost it’d be for both you and my brother in the end.” His tone comes off matter of fact, not too harsh or condescending, but not light either. Not that I’d expect him to spare my feelings. “If it makes you feel any better, the fact you’re worried about losing yourself means you’ll always be cautious about staying humble. My brother may be an annoying asshole sometimes, but he’s probably the most selfless person I know. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, especially not with him.”
I know anyone could say that in defense of the person they care for, but I believe Chase when he tells me I have nothing to worry about. Garrick has given me space and proven himself to be respectful time and time again.
After breakfast, he told me he’d help his mother clean up so I could go on with my day. He never once asked about my lack of ring, though I saw his eyes trail to my bare finger, and always found ways to answer his mother’s questions without lying because he knows it makes me uncomfortable. He hasn’t pressured me to do anything more with him, or even sent any more suggestive texts that make me blush.
Garrick is a good person.
And the world will know that.
I bite down on my thumbnail the same second I hit the SEND button, listening to the snap of my nail sync with the message sent noise I receive as soon as the task is done.
It’s step one to making Garrick see that I trust him, to show I know who he is.
“Thank you, Chase.”
He pauses for only a moment at my soft tone before walking toward the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Just don’t hurt him. We both know he doesn’t deserve that.”
Two warnings in one day tells me all I need to know about my husband.
While he’s off worrying about everybody else around him like his mother and Yasmin says he is, his family will always have his back. And even though it’s temporary, I’m glad to be part of it.
15
Garrick
The door to the studio flies open, and the guys pour in with Nelson, one of the security guards, stepping in front of the wood separating us and the paparazzi gathered outside. The building is somewhat soundproof, a nice feature knowing the second that door opens it’s a rush of loud voices and clicking, blinding cameras.
Considering I’ve been avoiding their texts and calls save the “be at the studio at 3” message I sent the group chat, I’m not surprised to see a mixture of glowering and disbelieving expressions staring back at me. My feet are propped up on the edge of the sound board, a keyboard in my lap, and a casual smile on my face.
“Boys,” I greet, carefully sliding the board off me and dropping my feet onto the floor.
Manning winces as Zayne shoves him and Jax out of the way until he’s standing in front of me. I don’t expect any hearty congratulations from any of them, but I also didn’t anticipate the furious expression my friend is giving me. “What the fuck, Matthews?”
The guys all cringe, Cal seemingly finding the plant in the corner of the room fascinating, and Jax studying the records hanging on the wall as if they haven’t been there all the years we’ve come here. I meet Zayne’s eyes, but he barely locks my gaze before he gestures toward the recording room.
Following him in, I say, “I know you’re all probably wondering why I didn’t tell you—”
“Why her?” he growls, slamming the door closed and facing me with pure white rage I’ve only seen on his face one other time. It was right before the band called it quits. He walked away and never looked back until I reached out to make amends over what had gone down between us.
It takes me a few seconds to understand his question. “Rylee?”
“Why. Her?”
I blink. “I’m not following, mate. She—”
He cuts me off again. “You could have chosen anyone, and you had to pick someone who fucked me over. You’re one hell of a friend, Matthews.”
I hear a muffled “oh shit” come from outside the room and know we have a captive audience watching. “Rylee came clean about what happened, Zayne. She never
