by Elise Faber
Words escaped me.
I didn’t have words that would take that angst away, that would make what she said any less true.
Because she was right.
But being right didn’t negate the fact that we had to do something, and we needed to do it quickly.
I pushed up from the couch, felt the barest blip of hesitation when she shot cold, hazel eyes in my direction, then promptly ignored it. She was upset; she was in pain—if the lines fanning out from the corners of her mouth were any indication—and she was in a new scenario with absolutely no clue how to proceed.
Anyone would be feeling adrift and angry and uncertain.
So, I ignored that blip of wavering and just took her in my arms.
“You’re right,” I said, finding the words much easier with her close, her head tucked beneath my chin, the strands of her hair, still damp from the shower, brushing along my arm. “Of course, you’re right. This whole situation is fucked. People wanted to sell every consumable portion, to push papers and views and ads and merch, but none of that changes the fact that I would have very likely been seriously injured last night, if not for you.” I cupped her jaw, tilted her head back. “I might have died, if not for you.”
Her lips parted. “I’m sure—”
“Did it seem like any of them were coming to my aid last night?”
“There was that one girl—”
“One,” I said. “Yeah, and what good would that have done me? Her standing on the opposite side of the road, camera poised as a man ran at me with a knife.” I stroked my thumb back and forth across her cheek. “You saved me, and besides protecting you from this media storm, that’s the only thing that matters.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because no one has ever done that for me before.”
Her brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
“My parents were drug addicts, Pretty Eyes. They were sick and so wrapped up in their addictions that they couldn’t think of anything but getting their next fix.” I shrugged, not to dismiss it, exactly, since it was my experience, but because . . . that had been my experience. I was used to it. I couldn’t say that it wasn’t completely painless, because, fuck, it did hurt sometimes. But I’d long ago learned that it was over. They had both been gone for a long time. My mom had OD’d right in front of me, my dad had left me to the system and disappeared. For all I knew, he’d succumbed to the drugs just as my mother had.
That kind of trauma left a hole.
That kind of trauma had left me feeling empty for a long, long time.
Then I’d met Maggie, and she’d filled in a little of that crevice, right along with Pierce and Artie, Eden and Damon, all of them continuing to backfill the emptiness. Now, I wasn’t quite so hollow.
But now, I was much more aware of what I’d lost, what I was still missing out on.
That longing was real and intense . . . and made me aware of exactly how precious this woman in front of me was.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It is what it is,” I told her. “They’re gone now, have been gone for a long time.” I sucked in a short breath, released it just as rapidly. “But the thing is that I don’t remember a time when a person protected me from harm.”
Those pretty hazel eyes flashed. “Maggie—”
I nodded. “No,” I said. “You’re right about that. Maggie is a good person, and she has weathered many a professional storm with me. She’s one of my closest friends for sure, but”—and here I admitted the truth that I’d held deep in my heart—“it’s not quite the same as what you did, because you’re not on my payroll.” Guilt creeping in, I glanced over my shoulder to catch Mags’ gaze, to apologize, even though it was a painful fact I’d long held close, but she wasn’t in the room.
She’d gone.
And my heart squeezed, knowing that she was a good friend, the absolute best, even as the understanding of what I’d admitted still held true.
I loved Maggie.
I just . . . it was hard to separate what she felt for me when I was the one signing her paychecks. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. No, I knew it wasn’t, but it was also what I felt, as unfair as it was.
“I could understand that,” Tammy murmured. “But she loves you. She would do anything to make sure you’re safe.”
I knew that, too.
“It’s not the same,” I whispered. “You didn’t get anything out of helping me. In fact, you’re probably only going to get screwed because your personal life is going to be infiltrated, you’re going to have to deal with the media following you until this eventually blows over. You helped me, and because of that, you’re fucked.”
“I’m not fucked.” She covered my hand with her own, and I half-expected her to tug it off. But then she simply kept it there. “I help people because it’s my job, because I’m trained to do it. It’s instinct to step in.”
Ouch.
Ouch.
Perhaps that was worse than Maggie being my friend and employee. No, it definitely was worse because this was a woman I cared about, far too much for the all of one day I’d known her, had only helped me because it was her job, her calling to save people.
It was not about me.
Probably the nearly physical slap of that thought slamming around my brain, sending my ears ringing, my heart thudding, shouldn’t have been a surprise. Maybe it was all about my ego being pricked, me being brought back down to earth like all the rest of the populace.
But all I could think was . . . fuck, that hurt.
I swallowed, gently peeled my hand from her cheek, and retreated a step.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Tal . . .”
God, why did she have to call me that? Hardly anyone shortened my name, and certainly no one made it sound like she did—gentle, with an edge of need. The longing I felt from my shortened name on her tongue was intense. I wanted her to call me that, to use that tone, forever.
Meanwhile, I was just a responsibility, her contribution to the universe, a police officer doing her job, a decent woman doing a nice thing.
“I . . . um . . .” I glanced toward the hall, wanting, no needing to escape. “You know what? I forgot I needed to do . . . something,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
Turning and heading out of the room, I almost mowed Maggie down in the hallway but managed to catch her arm and steady her before I all but ran for my bedroom like an upset teenager.
Pathetic.
Probably.
But I was feeling as lovestruck and heartbroken as one, so it fit.
Chapter Sixteen
Tammy
I’d hurt him.
I hadn’t meant to, but I’d done it anyway.
And now, I felt like the absolute biggest jackass on the planet. I took a step toward the hall, intending on following him, but Maggie caught my wrist.
“It’s better to let him have his space when he’s like this.”
Jealously. Again.
That she knew this man better than I did, when I hadn’t even known Talbot for more than twenty-four hours. It was ludicrous to feel that way, and yet, I’d been compartmentalizing things left and right, willy-nilly over the last day.
What was one more?
I’d just pretend that I wasn’t falling for a very unsuitable man, that our two lives—wholly different and completely incompatible—would go on without the slightest hiccup or speed bump.
Also—side note to my pretending—Maggie had another thing coming if she thought I was going to leave that man hurting until he managed to pull a mask around himself enough to fake being fine. I had too much fucking experience at doing that to willingly allow another person to do it under my watch.
To do it because of me.
I shook her off. Gently, because it was Maggie. Then took another step toward the hall.
Her voice trailed me. “Let’s talk about what we should—”
“I don’t care about shoulds,” I sai
d. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“It’s better—”
I spun back to face her. “With all due respect, I don’t give a fuck about better right now.” And with that, I strode down the hall, glancing in each room of the giant house as I walked, searching for the man in question and not finding him until I opened the closed bedroom door.
He didn’t move from his position, staring out the large glass windows, even though I wasn’t particularly quiet when I walked in.
And I knew I had a choice.
I could walk back out. I could re-enter my own sphere, stay isolated and safe in the status quo. Keep on pretending for an eternity. Or . . . I could take the universe’s signal that this man, this situation was completely dissimilar from anything I’d experienced before and jump in with both feet. I could pop that bubble, risk getting close, because the circumstances might be different.
Because this man might be different.
But could I?
Risk my heart, my hope again. Because as much as I talked a big game about pretending, the organ was ready to flop over and expose its vulnerable underbelly to this man.
Alarm bells blared, the urge to turn and flee was real . . . but my feet didn’t carry me out of the room.
Instead, I closed the door and walked over to him, stopping a foot from his back as I struggled to find the words. I didn’t have anything sweet or romantic to say, didn’t have anything but the blunt truth.
So, he’d have to handle the blunt truth.
“Yes, I saved you because it was my job, because I would have done the same thing for anyone who was encountering that situation.”
His spine was ramrod straight, the muscles on the backs of his arms standing out in sharp relief when he clenched his hands into fists, and I swore I could hear his teeth grinding.
I kept talking anyway.
“I’m trained to do that,” I said. “I’m the type of person who cannot stand to see someone suffering without doing something about it.” Here, I faltered because he whipped around, his eyes absolutely blazing as they locked onto mine. “But—” I cleared my throat as he stepped closer, my heart thudding, my lips tingling. “But I wasn’t afraid for myself last night,” I whispered. “I was terrified for you, terrified that something would happen to you. Not because of the cameras—I didn’t even notice them until after it was all over. But because I was scared that you would get hurt.”
By the time I finished pushing that out, my lips were parted, breaths coming in rapid gusts, my pulse thundering in my veins.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then his throat worked, and he rasped out, “Tammy.”
And I did the only thing I could think of. I closed the distance between us, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged him tight. “I didn’t—I couldn’t have you think that my actions were strictly about you, because that would be a lie. I am who I am. I help people because I can.” I squeezed tighter, a relieved breath sliding out from between my lips when his arms wrapped around me in turn. “But I’m glad I was there to help you. I’m glad that I could save you, that you didn’t get hurt because . . .”
“Why, baby?” he whispered hoarsely.
The words tumbled out.
“Because I don’t think I want to live in a world where you’re not in it.”
It should have been a ridiculous, overly emotional statement. But I meant it, as scary as that thought was.
His arms convulsed, and I buried my face in his chest, feeling incredibly vulnerable and worried that I might be revisiting stupid with a capital S, but also knowing that I’d spoken the truth.
For better or worse, it was the truth.
Acceptance slid through me as I stood there with my body against Talbot’s, his fingers in my hair, his arms around me, his warm heat surrounding me.
“Thank you,” he whispered, what seemed like an eternity later, his hold loosening, his embrace loosening. His palm came to my jaw again, cupping it in a hand roughened with callouses.
God, I loved it—his touch, that hand—so much that I found my filter completely gone, my next words exploding on an all too easy blurt.
“Your hand isn’t smooth.”
His face registered surprise before his golden eyes were molten. “Swordplay.”
My brows rose. Um. “What?”
“My next film is set in King Arthur’s times,” he said. “I’m a knight.”
Somehow that was absolutely fitting. “Is the armor shining?” I asked lightly, my lips tipping up. “Or dinged and rusty?”
A chuckle that caressed my skin like a thousand intangible fingers. “Hopefully, the first.” A shrug. “But probably, the second.” He shrugged again. “Let’s just say that I’m a knight with some baggage.”
I grinned. “I can’t wait to see it.”
His hand twitched on my cheek, an emotion I couldn’t decipher trailing across his face before it was replaced with something I could. With amusement. “The swordplay?” he asked innocently.
A snort. “That, too.”
He waggled his brows. “But”—more mock innocence here—“I thought I already did.”
I stepped out of his arms, rolled my eyes. “Well, clearly you’re feeling better, so I’m just going to go.”
I turned for the door.
An arm slipped around my waist, reeled me back in.
“Tammy?” he asked, his lips very close to my ear.
“Hmm?”
He spun me, stared deep into my eyes.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
My lips curved, and I rose on tiptoe.
Then I kissed him first.
Chapter Seventeen
Talbot
By the time I managed to stop kissing Tammy and extricate us from the bedroom, Maggie had arranged a command center in the family room.
Two laptops open.
Her cell phone on the table.
Piles of paper stacked on every available inch.
She glanced up when we walked in, and her smile didn’t hide her concern. I saw it in her eyes, pressed into the lines around her face. But her voice was natural when she patted the couch next to her and said, “Let’s take a look at what I’ve put together.”
I nodded, and still holding Tammy’s hand, I sat on the couch. Which meant that she was stuck sitting beside me.
Muhaha.
Not that she was looking at me. Not in the least. She was staring at the screen on the laptop, and I turned my gaze there.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked. She’d already seen a lot of this earlier.
“That’s The New York Times,” she sputtered. “I—oh, my God. This is just—” She popped to her feet. “How can I be in it? And on CNN? And—” Her hands came up to her hair, gripping tightly before she winced and dropped the hurt one back to her side.
I snagged her hand. “It’s a slow news cycle right now. It’ll blow over.” Said with much more confidence than I actually felt. “Maggie’s got a plan, and—” I turned to look at my publicist. “You have a plan, right?”
Maggie nodded. “Right. I do have a plan. I promise, we’ll take care of this,” she said, standing and placing her hand on Tammy’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
Tammy, her face pale, nodded and sat back down on the couch. “Okay,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “I had a minor freak-out there, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” Her eyes went to Maggie’s. “What do I have to do to get back to my life?”
Mags’ gaze came to mine, just for a brief moment, but I saw the question on its surface, the concern in its depths.
I didn’t want Tammy to go back to her life.
I wanted her to become part of mine.
But that wasn’t fair, and now it was my turn to protect her.
I nodded. “Tell me what I have to do.”
Fingers weaving with mine, a warm shoulder pressed to my side. “No,” Tammy said, surprising the hell out of me. “
Tell us what we have to do.”
Mags was quiet for just a brief moment, her gaze still filled with questions, that concern still there, but she nodded, smiled, and moved back to the couch, sitting down and picking up the first of many papers. “Okay,” she said. “Here’s the first step.”
“Thanks, Mags,” I whispered, giving her a hug before she slipped out my front door.
“Oh, hey.” She stopped, glanced back, and I didn’t miss the flash of the cameras from beyond the gate. She noticed, too, coming closer, deliberately angling her body to block any good shots of me.
“What’s up?”
“Be good to her, okay?”
“Mags,” I began, thinking she was going to tell me not to hurt her friend, to treat her with kindness and respect.
I didn’t need another version of that talk from her.
I’d give it to Tammy regardless of Maggie’s interference.
She squeezed my wrist. “I wasn’t finished,” she murmured. “Be good to yourself, too, okay? You deserve to be someone’s whole world, to have them light up for you, to be the thing that makes their life better.”
A shaking exhale. “Mags,” I said again.
She patted my chest. “I’ll release the statement tonight, and we’ll give it a couple of days before we go to our next step.”
“Okay.”
“Enjoy being secluded.” She hugged me, her lips going to my ear and whispering, “And enjoy Tammy.” I smiled, joy bubbling inside me like it was a living thing, a babbling brook, washing over me in wonderful, cool dribbles. Then with a pat on my arm, she turned and walked toward her car.
I watched her back it up, maneuver toward the gate, pausing to gesture to me through the driver’s side window to go back inside.
Smiling, I did so.
But I still kept an eye on her through the blinds, making sure she made it through okay. I hadn’t needed to worry, however, as members of the security team magically appeared, pushing back the crowd and helping Maggie navigate her car out. I kept watching until they were back inside the gate, until that metal panel was closed, and then I double-checked the front door was locked and the blinds were drawn before heading toward the back of the house where Tammy and I were doing our secluding.