I could barely remember the flight home. Any conversations I had were lost to a void that opened up inside me the moment Gabe had told me the news about my brother. If I’d been pressed to remember anything, I might have been able to recall Faith’s arms around me in an out of character show of support and Malcolm’s assurance that I must leave straight away.

The only thing I was really aware of was Gabe. From the moment he’d stepped into the hotel room to break the news, he was by my side. Talking to my mother on the phone, talking to Viktor, airport staff, the flight attendant—Gabe was there.

By the time we landed in LA I was so numb and tired I could barely stand. Sleeping wasn’t an option. All I saw every time I closed my eyes was that damn picture.

And along with it came anger, so raw and so consuming it threatened to engulf me. Then I would open my eyes and Gabe would be by my side and relief washed away all the painful emotion.

I was vaguely aware of a mob of paparazzi when we arrived at the hospital, but I didn’t care. When Gabe pointed out that we’d been seen together, all I could manage to say was, ‘Good.’ The only thing I cared about was my brother. My dear, sweet, tortured brother.

It wasn’t fair that his sexuality had been used against him in this way. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t just be himself. And I was to blame. If I hadn’t attracted the attention of this stalker, none of this would have happened. If my anger was fierce, my sorrow was a cavernous hole so deep I was at risk of falling in and disappearing altogether.

When Gabe guided me into Damon’s hospital room he had to stop me from doubling over. It made no sense that I would feel Damon’s pain, but even asleep, it radiated off him and cut through me.

Gabe lowered me gently onto the seat by Damon’s bedside and smoothed my hair away from my face. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

I nodded, or at least I think I nodded, and Gabe retreated.

I studied my little brother. When had he become a man? He usually hid it well behind his make-up and his jokes, but the strong line of his jaw and the dark shadow of his beard hinted at the man he now was. His masculinity didn’t detract from his beauty. He had Mama’s full lips and striking cheekbones. If he ever had the confidence, the cameras would love him.

Of course, it was the camera that had caused him to be here. How could it be both my friend and my foe?

Tentatively, I reached over and took his hand. I didn’t want to wake him. I just needed to touch him to reassure myself that he was OK.

Damon’s eyelids flickered and I went to slip my hand away, but his grip tightened on mine, surprisingly strong.

“It’s not your fault.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“What?” I said softly, not sure if I had heard right.

“It’s not your fault,” he rasped and opened his eyes.

His dark gaze was haunted and I just stared at him.

“Did you hear me?” he said.

I nodded, holding back a sob. It was my fault, I thought. I put him here.

His fingers wouldn’t release me. “This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

I did sob this time and buried my face in his side, the hospital blanket scratching my nose.

Still holding my hand, Damon’s thumb stroked the back of my head. “It’s not your job to look after me. To protect me from Mama. Or from this.”

“But you tried to—” The words caught on a sob and I couldn’t say them.

“Kill myself? Yeah, for a while I didn’t want to be me. I didn’t want to die either.”

“But . . .” I hiccupped and turned my face toward him.

“It was a drug overdose,” he told me. “Some bad shit. I didn’t actually want to die. Like I said, the thought of being someone else, someone normal for a while, was too tempting to resist.”

“You are normal!” I protested.

His dark gaze softened. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. You were the reason I didn’t take all the drugs. I left some. I could hear your annoying voice in my head telling me not to.”

I smiled through my tears. “Me?”

“Yeah. You’re halfway across the world and you still won’t leave me alone.”

I threw my arms around him and pressed my head against his chest. It had always been like this. Mama used to complain we were like twins even though we were a couple of years apart.

“Good,” I said, the sound muffled. I lifted my head because what I had to say next needed to be heard properly. “And Damon? You need to know I think you’re perfect. If anyone ever says otherwise—”

“It’s OK, Tinker. I don’t need your fairy dust anymore. I’m going to be a fairy for real from now on.”

A bubble of laughter escaped instead of a sob, and Damon gave me a tired smile. “I’m done with being a regular boy. It’s boring.”

“I love you.”

“I know, and I love you too.”

*

“WHY DIDN’T HE TELL me?”

I skidded just outside the door to Damon’s hospital room and found myself face to face with Mama. I’d been so numb about what had happened to Damon that I hadn’t stopped to consider whether I would run into Mama here.

She appeared distraught. More than that, she looked a mess. April Allen never looked a mess. She wore an old pair of jeans and a creased navy T-shirt I recognized from my childhood. Her usually straight auburn hair was wavy, and God forbid, tousled. She wore no make-up. It made no sense that I felt relieved to see fine lines around her eyes and mouth, and the sprinkling of freckles she always made sure to cover up.

“That he’s gay?” My reply wasn’t snide, just tired.

“Yes,” my mother whispered. She hugged her arms to her body like she was cold.

“He didn’t think you’d like it,” I told her honestly.

If she’d learned about Damon’s sexuality earlier, then perhaps I’d have tried to soften the blow. After all that had happened between us recently, I just didn’t have the energy.

She reached over and clasped my arm. “Some of my best friends are gay!”

“You were never happy with anything Damon did, so why would this be different?”

Mama released me and put a hand to her head. “That’s not true!”

“Yes, Mama it is. I could never do anything wrong, but Damon could never please you. In the end he thought it was easier to be forgotten.”

A soft sob escaped my mother’s mouth. “This is my fault.”

“Don’t you dare,” I told her.

Her brown eyes widened.

I tugged her away from the doorway and to a quiet nook just down the hall. “This is not about you, do you hear me? It’s about Damon and his self-worth and the fact that he’s had to live his entire life on the edge of the spotlight. He’s been too scared to be himself. He came out to me when he was fifteen. Fifteen. That was four years ago. He knows exactly who he is. He’s just scared to live it. Frankly, I couldn’t care less what your opinion of his sexuality is. Just promise me you will support him and if you can’t do that, stay the hell out of the media and keep your mouth shut about it. This is not another opportunity for media exposure, do you understand me?”

My mother’s chin quivered. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Once upon time, no.”

Mama nodded like that was the response she’d expected. “And that man in the photo? Is that his boyfriend?”

I shook my head. I’d already asked Damon about him and Emilio. He admitted to having a crush on Emilio, but nothing like the crush he’d had on Gabe for all these years. The night the photo was taken they’d gone to a club together. It wasn’t long after I’d blurted to the band that Damon was gay and Emilio had been trying to be a friend. Despite sharing that very heated kiss, apparently Emilio was still in love with his ex. Damon had been drunk and lonely and for Emilio it was a moment of weakness. It sounded like they’d become friends since. My already good opinion of Emilio was even better as a result.

“No, he’s not. Damon doesn’t have a boyfriend right now.”

“Why ever not?” Mama demanded. “He’s smart and gorgeous and talented and anyone would be lucky to have him.”

I blinked. “Maybe you should tell him that yourself.”

Mama sniffed, still on the brink of tears, but straightened as if determined. “Yes, I think I will. Are you staying?”

“Not long,” I told her. “I have to return to Paris to finish filming.”

“OK. I won’t lose him, Chloe, I promise. I may have lost you, but you’re fine without me. My darling boy is hurting and he needs me. I’m just so sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

She strode purposefully back toward Damon’s room.

“Mama?”

She stopped and turned. “Yes, Chloe?”

I stared at her, trying to find the right words. I was still so angry with her for what she had done, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to hate her either. Despite her crazy actions, she had supported me too many years to count, even if it was misled at times. I wasn’t sure when or if I’d be able to trust her again anytime soon, but like Johnnie had said, ‘Family’s important.’ Currently my family was in pieces and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it altogether.

I had to accept my part in recent events, too. I was twenty-one and I’d let Mama have too much say in my life for much too long simply because it had been easier. Safer. It was up to me to take charge of my life and set some boundaries. It was time to take some risks, too.

“You haven’t lost me,” I said softly.

She nodded slowly. “But I can do better. I will do better.” She disappeared into Damon’s room without a second glance.

Usually Mama would demand to know my schedule and make me promise to call her when I arrived and ask a whole lot of questions about filming. Somewhere deep inside I kind of missed her interference, but I wasn’t sad. For the first time in my life she was starting to listen to me and treat me like an adult. Maybe there was some hope for us after all.

*

GABE AND I WERE ON the next plane out of LA to Paris so he could perform with Gypsy Hour and I could finish filming. By then, the media juggernaut was in overdrive. It was all over the news that Gabe and I were back together. Shots of us leaving the hospital and at the airport made front-page headlines. Meanwhile, Mama had gone into protective mode, sheltering Damon from the worst of the attention. He was refusing to talk to the media, as I’d expected. Mama had released a short statement, but declined to say anything further.

I spent the flight catching up on emails and my laptop was currently open on a copy of the official media release Mama had Alana prepare. “My son is recovering from an unintentional drug overdose and I ask that our family is given space and respect during this difficult time. I won’t be making any comments on his sexuality except to say that I’m extremely proud of my son,” I read to Gabe.

Gabe continued tapping a steady beat on my wrist with his thumb. “Sounds like she listened to you.”

“Yes, I think she did.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Happy. Mostly, I’m happy about it, if that’s possible right now.”

He stopped his rhythm and covered the top of my hand with his palm. “Good. I’m sorry you have to be so far away from Damon right now.”

“He’ll be OK.” It was such a relief to know that Damon finally had my mother’s support.

I scanned the rest of my emails. I paused on one from an unfamiliar address: [email protected] The subject line read: Paris. There was an attachment.

Was she a member of the production crew? Maybe there had been a change to the filming schedule I needed to know about. Highly likely given my unexpected departure for a few days.

I clicked to open the message and froze.

“What is it?”

I shifted the laptop so he could see it and closed my eyes. “It’s another one.”

“Son of a bitch.”

This time the image was of me and Johnnie on the balcony in Paris sharing a kiss. A single sentence sat below: There’s no happily ever after for sluts like you.

“I’m going to kill him,” Gabe said, his voice low.

My eyes flew open. I was still reeling from the message and had forgotten Gabe didn’t know about the kiss. “What? No!” I lowered my voice at the curious look from the flight attendant. “I meant to tell you about that. I kissed him to say thank you.”

“When has Johnnie ever deserved your thanks?”

In a rush of words I explained the conversation I’d had with Johnnie before everything with Damon had happened.

Gabe eyed the image again. “It was peck on the cheek. That’s all?”

“Yes,” I assured him.

“He didn’t try anything?”

“No. He was a gentleman.”

Gabe’s eyes flashed with skepticism.

“Alright, he was as much of a gentleman as Johnnie can be.”

Gabe blew out a breath. “And he saw paparazzi from the balcony?”

“Yes.”

“So it could have been one of them.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure Marc has been looking into some of photographers who have taken shots of me recently.”

“I’m sure he has, but you know what this means, don’t you?”

“My stalker isn’t going to leave me alone?” I replied wearily. I’d kind of gathered that much when the photo of Damon and Emilio had been released to the media.

Gabe’s brow furrowed. “Whoever it is followed you to Paris.”