First thing in the morning, it’s really shitty to see an email from your agent, especially when you’re away from the team nursing an injury. The next shitty thing you don’t want to see, is your phone light up with an incoming call, his smiling face staring back at you, when you know this isn’t going to be good.

Immediately I have that feeling of doom, like maybe they’ve canceled my contract. Then I tell myself that’s stupid. That I need to put a lid on the gloom and doom. Just because I’m having a rough year doesn’t mean they’re going to turn their back on me. Not everyone will give up when it gets tough and choices have to be made.

“Slater, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for two days, but you’ve been ignoring my messages. There’s some shit we need to talk about.”

Still not helping me feel secure in whatever this is. But I go with it. “You’ve got me now, what do you need, Pete?”

“You been seeing a girl in your hometown?” The question isn’t so much asked as stated.

Shit. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. So many people are up our asses as public figures. I wanted to keep Malone to myself for a little while longer. It doesn’t look like that’s going to work though.

“I’m sending you some pics that are going to be released tomorrow on a bunch of gossip sites. It’s up to you if you want to get in front of this, I just thought you should know. It’s a file, so let me know when you have time to look it over.”

We get off the line, and I wait for the email to come through. When it does, and I start to download it, I curse loudly. They’ve gotten pics of us from when we were teenagers. And they have pics of us from when we went out a few days ago. Whoever this is, they must live here, and that pisses me off. One of the reasons I came home was to have some privacy, not to have people plaster my personal life all over every tabloid at the grocery checkout lane.

There are pictures of us from our senior year, the night I proposed to her, and a couple of outings we had on the lake, but what worries me are the pictures of us obviously taken without us being aware of it. There’s also pictures of us individually. Her opening the bakery, me climbing the steps to the apartment I’m staying in at my parents. It’s a huge invasion of privacy and one I’m really not taking too kindly.

Hitting the button to connect back to him, I wait impatiently for him to answer. “Pete, this is bullshit.”

“Agreed, someone has way too much access to you. Typically I would tell you not to worry about it, but with you being in your hometown, where you’re not able to blend in, I think some damage control needs to be done. At least to get some of the heat off of her. The last thing you need is someone checking up on her and finding out things that are private to her.”

“Find out who did this,” I tell him. He has carte blanche for everything I’ve ever needed him to do.

“I’m working on it.”

“Should I be worried that she’s doing PR for my non-profit?” Honestly that’s the last thing I should be worried about, but in my position, I tend to worry about others first. That business I have to keep going? It’s the first thing on my mind.

“I’ll put out some feelers and get back to you, but her opening that bakery at four in the morning by herself? That needs to stop. Either someone needs to be there with her, or she needs an escort.”

I understand what he’s saying and I totally agree. “I’m on it.”

“Give me a few days,” he tells me. “I’ll get to you as soon as I can, but until I can get to it, be aware of your surroundings and be as safe as you can.”

“Will do! I’ll be waiting on your call.”

As we disconnect, I have to figure out how in the hell I’m gonna tell Malone I’ve pulled her into this. “Fuck!” I throw the phone on the dash of my SUV. This is the last thing I wanted, last thing I expected, and definitely didn’t think it would happen in my damn hometown.

Forgetting where I’d been heading, I turn around, head for the Fulcher’s residence. Unfortunately this affects us all, and if we’re going to be vigilant, all of us will need to be on the same page.

Turning down the road, leading to their house, I dread this, completely dread the fact that my fame is going to play into this. I wanted Mal to love me for me, and just like all the other relationships I’ve had, this one will probably be tainted by the amount of money I have, the fans who think they own me, and my own inability to be proactive.

“Hey.” Malone smiles as she comes down the steps of her parents’ home. “I didn’t expect to see you today, but I have a few things to talk to you about with the social media platform.”

I kiss her, savoring the last time she kisses me before I potentially ruin what we have. “Yeah, we’ll talk about that in a minute. Right now, I have to tell you about a situation my agent has been tipped to.”

“Sounds scary or ominous.” She pulls away from me. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know, but I am,” I admit to her, circling my arms around her waist. “I may be over-reacting but someone’s taking pictures of us and it’s hitting the tabloids tomorrow.”

“What do you mean pictures of us?” I see the fear in her eyes and that’s the very last thing I wanted to see.

“Pictures of you opening the bakery, of us on our date last night.”

That one hurts to admit to her. What hurts worse is seeing her actual physical reaction to it. She crumbles into herself and I feel like a bastard. She already lost her privacy once with her boss harassing her, and now she’s going to lose it again thanks to me. When I reach for her she backs away, and that pain? Cuts worse than anything else we’ve been through together ever has.

“I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen to you.” My voice is barely above a whisper as I hand her what will be on the front page of every rag mag in America and on the internet tomorrow. “I thought being here with you in Willow’s Gap would keep you and our relationship safe, but apparently not.”

Handing her over my phone with the information on it, I watch her facial expressions as she realizes just how much they know. “How do they know my name? My parent’s names? That I work at the bakery? This is a total invasion of privacy, Slater.”

“It is,” I agree. One I’ve learned to live with since I came to the majors, but it’s never been easy for the people in my life. Half the time I walk around, not even realizing people are looking at me. “There are a couple of ways we can spin this.” I speak slowly, trying not to frighten her more than she already is.

“I’m a PR person, Slater, don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. We need to get ahead of this.” She runs her fingers through her hair, irritation evident by the way her brow scrunches.

“I didn’t say you were, but sometimes when you’re in the situation, it’s hard to understand what can be done.”

“Okay, so tell me what your PR has instructed you to do.”

“We can either let them break it, the way they want to, or we can get out in front of it and make the announcement ourselves, which is what I’d prefer to do. You haven’t read the article, it’s pretty scathing in your direction. They spoke to someone who knew us in high school, who knew that you left me, and not the other way around. Because we’ve worked through that and I don’t want to keep bringing the shit back up again, I’d prefer to be the one to do this on my own terms.”

“How would we do this?”

It’s a good sign that she’s using we. “I’ll make a post on my Instagram, Facebook, and website. My PR people will forward it the second it hits to all the media outlets with a press release.”

“Is that what you think we need to do?”

She’s asking me, and I can tell she’s not sure. Used to making the decisions herself, and not having anyone tell her what to do, this has got to be difficult being on the other side of the fence, so to speak.

“This is exactly what I think we should do. Let us do it on our own.”

“Okay.” She nods, reaching out to take my hand in hers. “If this is what you think is best, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“C’mon over here and have a seat, they need a picture of us.” I pat my lap.

“Oh my God, Slater, let me go curl my hair, put, put on some fresh makeup.”

I grab her around the waist, pulling her down onto my lap. “No.” I push her naturally wavy hair back from her face. “This is exactly how I love you, sweetness, and exactly how I want the world to see you.”

She stops, we both do. I wasn’t prepared to tell her those words, not today, not here. But maybe they came out when they needed to.

“I love you too, I tried not to.” A tear makes its way down her cheek. “But I couldn’t help it.”

Reaching up, I push the tear away, put my phone out at arm’s length and take a selfie. When I look at the picture later, I love that neither one of us are looking at the camera. We’re looking at each other, both completely lost in the other’s eyes. This is how I want the world to see the woman who’s stolen my heart.

And as I post the picture, along with the letter to my Instagram account, I know nothing else will ever be the same. But at the same time, I hope everyone gives us the privacy I’m asking for. I know in Birmingham we can expect it, but here? Here I need the privacy.