Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel

by Stephanie Tyler

  At least they were, until I started moving them around.

  I was sleepwalking…and I was moving the paintings around.

  Moving them. Staring at them. Reordering them. Standing back and gazing at them, shaking my head as if trying to make sense of them.

  I was the intruder. I was the one breaking into my own life, trying to break into my past and break it open…

  I was the intruder in my own life.

  "You want your memories," Lucas murmured when I'd calmed down somewhat. It took several shots of whiskey to get me to this point, and I was curled on the couch, blankets around me, with the promise that Grant would return with food soon.

  "I'm not taking those pills."

  Lucas didn't say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. I also didn't think I'd been moving my own paintings.

  "You should take the pills away from me. Take them to your place."

  "Suppose you need them?"

  "Fine. Sleep here while I work. Pocket the pills—or take the pills up to Brayden's."

  "You've got nothing to prove to me. If you need the pills—"

  "I don't."

  "You take them," he finished. "You've done nothing wrong. Your memories need to come out. They're trying to tell you something. So listen."

  "I feel like I'm going crazy. Like something inside me is trying to take over, and it's winning."

  Lucas's eyes clouded after I shared that. "You're not crazy."

  "You don't know me, Lucas, because I don't even know myself," I challenged. "What if I escaped a mental institution? Or prison? What if I'm a murderer and I've had surgery to avoid detection?"

  "Like in 'Face Off'?"

  "This isn't funny."

  "No, it's not. Because I do know you, Ryn. I know you jump in to help your friends, that you can kick ass, so there's bite behind your bark. I know that you lose yourself in your work and you could never be with someone who doesn't get that or accept it. I know how to make you come, hard and fast and slow and easy. I know your body better than you."

  I blinked at him, because he seemed to know more about me than I did. And then I held the pill bottle to him. "There should be a full bottle. I haven't been taking them at all."

  Lucas took the bottle from me and opened it. I expected to see more pills pour out than what sat in his palm.

  I practically whispered. "You have to believe me."

  "I do," he said shortly. "But you've got an enemy."

  One that was determined to drive me over the edge. I turned from Lucas and the pills and back to my paintings. "The flowers…Lucas, I didn't buy myself the daffodils. I know I didn't."

  His expression hardened. "You haven't gotten any since we put the alarms in place, right?"

  "Right."

  "I hate to say this, but if you were bringing in the flowers yourself, you'd still be doing it."

  "So someone was coming in here with the flowers," I said in a whisper. I wasn't sure if I should feel better or worse about that, but at least I knew I wasn't totally crazy. "I wasn't making it up. I swear—it happened."

  "I don't think you were."

  But then it sunk in. "What if I was sleepwalking? What if I thought other flowers were daffodils when I was in one of my fugue states?" I hated the way he looked at me, sympathy and worry. "I have to find out what's in my past. I have to, no matter the cost."

  He blew out a breath that hissed between his teeth. "Did you ever stop to consider that it might be better for you to never remember your past?"

  I answered without hesitation. "Every day of my life."

  Chapter Seventeen

  A week later, I met with Gabrielle for lunch at her apartment. Her interview teasers were beginning to leak and I couldn't go online without seeing a mention of the movie or of her. We'd texted daily since our lunch but this was my first time seeing her.

  Since he knew that Gabrielle had shared her past with me, Lucas didn't seem worried about me seeing her, and neither did Brayden or Grant, so in my mind she was cleared. Surely none of those men would allow me to get close to a threat.

  I'd let my guard down with her, maybe too fast, but she'd been in the right place at the right time. She'd read me, and anyone else might've taken advantage of my vulnerable position at Jared's book party. But she'd been in one too, with a career burgeoning like a swelling wave, and we clung to each other and our respective secrets. Next to Brayden, Lucas and Grant, Gabrielle was the first outsider—and the first female—in my life I'd ever considered a good friend. Susan was my mother figure, but beyond her, I'd always shied away from women.

  Meghan was probably the best example of why.

  "Hey, thanks for sneaking in to see me!" Gabrielle threw her arms around me when I entered her apartment. I'd gone through the garage to avoid the paps that had been stalking her since the news of her part in the movie broke. Thankfully, I was still able to stalk around mostly unnoticed, especially away from the gallery world.

  Gabrielle could've used me for publicity. Then again, I could've used her too.

  "No problem," I told her as I hugged her back then unbundled myself, taking my hoodie and cap off. She'd set up a beautiful meal by a picture window with the gorgeous view of the park she had. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm not planning on googling myself ever again, but I think I'm okay. I'm already booked on a million shows for the week the interview comes out, so I'll let you know then. I might need to hide out at your place for a while."

  "Just let me know."

  "Come sit and eat."

  I noticed that the elegant trays of food were all comfort foods—dumplings and potatoes and empanadas. An 'appetizer is the main meal' kind of party. Plus chocolate cake. "This looks delicious."

  "I know." Gabrielle smiled and began to fill her plate as I settled in across from her and did the same. "I'm not eating carbs this week, so you're not seeing this." Then she gave me a semi-devious look. "Want to see the script?"

  "Ugh. I've seen enough of Jared's work to last me a lifetime."

  "True." She pointed the fork in my direction before spearing another dumpling. "He doesn't know we're hanging out. But he never talks to us. Any directions? He whispers to the director. Then the director tells us, like we don't know where it's coming from. It helps that the guy playing Jared is way less douchey than Jared actually is. No offense."

  "Zero taken. Are you and said co-star getting cozy?"

  "There's chemistry, but he's very married. I won't fuck with that. Damned Midwestern values." She took a sip of wine. "Any new developments?"

  I shrugged. "It's all so messed up. Jared is still bugging Brayden about using my paintings in the movie. He refuses to take no for an answer. Made Brayden promise to convince me.”

  Her brows rose. "Um, that's crazy that he won’t just stop."

  "That was my first reaction. But…" I told her Brayden's theory. She downed the last half of her glass of wine in one gulp. "I guess you don't agree."

  "I just want Jared to leave you alone. That fucker.” She filled her wine glass. "No more after this for me, okay?"

  "I have no shoot to get up for."

  "Young ingénues can't have circles," she said. I saw no evidence of any such circles on Gabrielle's face and she wasn't wearing much makeup either. She just looked relaxed. "Have you been working a ton?"

  "Trying to." I took a second helping. I hadn't wanted to mention the part about my paintings being moved…or that I'd been sleepwalking. Not until I understood it all better myself.

  "You said that you know Jared made up your past, right?" Gabrielle said suddenly. "I guess what he imagines it to be. But the thing is…how would either of us know if that were true or not?"

  We wouldn't. It was my turn to gulp the wine. "Is that why I never heard from him again?"

  "The way he talks about you in the book? Like you're the one love of his life who got away."

  I rolled my eyes. "And thank God for that."

  Chapter Eighteen

  The interv
iew Jared gave to Ann Maslow was everything I'd expected it to be. Brayden had already read it when he handed it over, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was pissed off.

  Lucas and Grant were there too, I guessed for moral support.

  "I knew she'd pull this," I muttered as I skimmed some of his answers regarding her seeing me and Jared together at his book party.

  Ann: It seems like you know Ryn Taylor well. Is there history there?

  Jared: I love her paintings.

  Ann: How long have you loved her paintings for?

  Jared: Long enough.

  "He's the one not denying he knew you before—at least not very hard," Brayden pointed out. "She's doing her job, just a little too damned well. And, to add insult to injury, Jared called again—this morning—about the paintings. I told him you hadn't made a decision yet, and it's all I can do not to tell him to fuck off."

  "He knows I'm looking for my past. If it comes out during this timeframe…" I trailed off.

  "Yeah, your life will make for great publicity for him." Brayden rolled his eyes. "He's pushing you, Ryn. He doesn't care about putting you in danger or making you lose it over all of this."

  I didn't point out the obvious, that I'd put myself in danger all by my lonesome just fine.

  "Breathe, Ryn," Lucas said, a hand on my shoulder.

  "I am. And I can't let Jared keep playing these mind games with me," I announced. "I have to confront him." When Lucas and Brayden both looked less than thrilled with that idea, I persisted with, "Jared knew I'd be in the city. He knew I was having my show."

  "He moved his party," Grant broke in. "It was supposed to be the week before your show. It was moved two weeks before."

  "How do you know that?" I asked.

  "There was a call from his camp to Brayden's gallery right before the change of venue. Maybe two minutes in between the calls," Grant confirmed. "The party was booked for a restaurant but they couldn't accommodate the last-minute change that Jared insisted on."

  Lucas swore under his breath.

  "He hasn't told anyone who I am," I said finally.

  "Not at the party, no. But since he saw you, with each subsequent interview, he's hinting," Grant told me. "Maybe I’m just reading into it, but I don’t want to take that chance. You should call him."

  "No," Brayden said loudly.

  "Ryn, I think you should make a date to go out with him. Try to figure out his end game. See if he's using the fact that he can reveal you to leverage something else," Grant explained, shooting an impatient glance at Lucas.

  "I can definitely get him to reveal his plan," Lucas announced, his tone fierce and his hands fisted.

  "Yes, that will go over really well," I told Lucas.

  "You're not going out alone with him," he shot back.

  "Why not? It wouldn't be a date."

  "Maybe not to you."

  "Oh, come on," I scoffed. "I meant nothing to him. He used me for book fodder." I noticed Brayden shaking his head. "What? You told me that's all it was," I said.

  "I got the feeling he's still very into you."

  "He's pretending to be, then—it's part of his game. Grant's right—I've got to find all of this out from Jared before it goes any further." I grabbed Jared's card from Grant's hand. "I'm calling him now. Once he reveals that I'm the basis for his book, I've got no place left to hide."

  And even though in many ways that might be a relief, after the park incident, the thought scared the hell out of me.

  Before I could back out—or Lucas could stop me—I went into another room with my cell phone, locked the door and dialed. "Hey Jared, it's Ryn."

  "I knew you'd call." It was said without smugness, but he definitely sounded pleased.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to remember that I was trying to out-manipulate him. "Listen," I started before he could say something else that would make Lucas crazy, since I realized he'd picked the lock and was listening in on the conversation over my shoulder. "I was wondering if we could meet for a drink."

  "Sure. I've got time tonight before I leave for the west coast." He named a place that was close to Brayden's gallery before adding, "How about I pick you up? I'm guessing you live close by."

  "How about I…" Lucas growled.

  "I'll meet you there. Six o'clock," I said hurriedly, then practically hung up on his, "I can't wait to see you."

  "I'm going with you," Lucas said firmly.

  "That would go over really well." I put a hand on his chest. "It's important for me to do this alone."

  "It's important to me to keep you safe. No question—I'll be there. In the bar."

  I sighed. It was the best I was going to get, and besides, he was right. It wasn't just Jared I needed to worry about. If anything, Jared was the easier force than my past threatened to be. "As long as you're with Grant. Because he can control you."

  "When it comes to you, no one can control me." He meant it.

  "I know you're worried. I get it. And I love you for it." I wrapped myself around him.

  "You love me for it? Or you just love me?" he asked seriously.

  "Both," I answered, just as seriously. I got a smile in return, one that relaxed his expression and took the haunted look from his eyes.

  That evening, Jared was already at the bar, waiting in casual but expensive clothes. Because he wore them well, he was attracting a good deal of female attention. I could understand that for sure, but now that I knew him his handsomeness was lost on me.

  "Ryn, hey." He stood, kissed me on both cheeks and then gave me a hug. I tried not to shrink away from any of it and managed what I hoped was a sincere smile when he pulled back. I don't think he'd notice either way. He wasn't aware of other people's emotions, just how he could manipulate them overall.

  "Thanks for making time for me so quickly." I slid onto a stool he'd pulled out for me and he took his seat again. We ordered, a martini for him, a margarita for me, and made small talk about his upcoming tour while we waited for them.

  "They've got me booked up. Between the book tour and the movie, I'm spinning." He didn't look unhappy about that at all.

  "The book's doing well, then?" I managed.

  "It's a commercial and critical success," he couldn't help but boast.

  "How wonderful for you." God, I couldn't have held back the sarcasm if I'd tried, and it was flying over Jared's head anyway. Nothing could've penetrated his high. He was oblivious to anything but his success that appeared to be mounting as we spoke.

  The whole thing made my skin crawl. And here I'd thought critics were the only parasites I'd needed to worry about.

  "So," he asked, after we'd made a toast to old times (and I swore I heard Lucas groan from across the bar where he and Grant were waiting), "I'm guessing you read the book."

  "I…couldn't," I lied. "It's too hard."

  He sat back, properly chastened…or pretending to be. "Everything's fair game for me. I can't help it. But I'd never do anything that would hurt you."

  Too late. "You're wanting to use my paintings in your movie. You've mentioned that in a major magazine interview. You're coy when reporters ask if we know each other. I'm just worried that you'll mention me. Now that my name's a little more out there…"

  "A little more? Ryn, the buzz you're getting is tremendous. I'd think you'd be more worried about that than anything."

  "Wait, are you saying if someone from my past finds me, that it'll be my fault? Because that's kind of a dick thing to say."

  He put his hands up. "You always did have a temper."

  And the gloves were off. I pointed at him. "Don't you act like you know me. You don’t—and you never cared to."

  He leaned forward, pushing my hand down. "And you still shared your life with me."

  "I didn't think you'd put it in a book." We'd managed to keep our voices low enough, but if anyone was looking at us, it was obvious we weren't having the most pleasant of conversations.

  Jared shrugged. "You didn't tel
l me not to."

  "I didn't think I needed a nondisclosure agreement to fuck you."

  He shook his head. "Ryn, when we spent that time together, I wasn't ready for anything serious. I'm in a different place now. And you obviously don't care about your past catching up to you. I never figured any of this would be an issue. If you're going to cash in on it, then it's fair game for me to do so as well. We're just two creatives, helping each other."

  "You can't be this stupid."

  He flinched. "The book's a peace offering. And since you seem to want to find out who you really are, I want to help you. You started this by showing your paintings, granting interviews and coming to New York. If your name comes out, because of that or because of my book, someone from your past can come forward and claim you. I'm assuming that's exactly what you want."

  "Don't you dare tell me what I want." My voice held a fury that startled him. "I don't need your help with this. You've done enough."

  "We make a good story. Think about it. We could be good together, Ryn. We were good together."

  "Funny that you believe that now."

  "I was young. I know I hurt you but I didn't meant to."

  "You can't expect that I'd date you now. You're trying to convince me to come out for extra publicity for you."

  He studied me. "I think you'd be a great asset. I'd love to consult with you on the script."

  "Go fuck yourself." My hand gripped my drink, and I barely suppressed the urge to throw it in his face. Instead, I walked out.

  And he followed, gripped my elbow before I got to the door to leave. "What did you expect? Do you think you could do all this and keep your life exactly the same? Because if you did, you're completely delusional."

  I pulled away from him. "You think I wanted all this attention?"

  "I don't see why else you'd do this, Ryn. You always were starved for attention."

  His words stung. Maybe they'd been partially true at one point, but certainly now it seemed like he was building his case against me. "Maybe I was. I liked you. A lot. And what I told you was private."