Dry and dressed, Maggie wandered barefoot into the kitchen in search of more coffee. She was a trooper. I’d expected a lot more whining and complaining from a celebrity like her. A gunshot was nothing to sneeze at. I had seen hardened men three times her size brought to their knees from the pain. Not her, though.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“No thanks. This is the earliest I’ve been up in years.” Coffee cup in her good hand, she wandered out to the porch and settled into one of the padded Adirondack chairs I’d dragged out of storage while she was in the shower. She faced the sun as it began to peek up over the horizon and bathed the valley in a golden light. Wrapped in a thick wool blanket, she watched the sky as the steam from her third cup of coffee rose in little swirls into the crisp morning air.

I walked past the open door leading to the porch and stopped to listen. She was singing, running through vocal exercises. I remembered learning the same routine in an ill-fated chorus class I was forced to endure way back in middle school.

I could see the pain etched in her face. Deep grooves rested between her eyebrows and bracketed her mouth. Her lovely eyes were dark and hollow. Despite it all, she sat there with her eyes closed and her head resting on the back of the chair as she harmonized with the universe.

I came back and leaned against the door jam, transfixed by the beauty of her voice. She normally sang a mix of rock and pop, surrounded by backup singers and musical instruments. Here, she was accompanying nature, singing acapella in the open air with no other sound marring the perfection of her voice. She sang a lonely ballad, one wishing for love.

Her voice lifted, weaving in and out of the words to old standards before she switched to a song I hadn’t heard before. The words were haunting, speaking of a dangerous love. I could not breathe, his love smothered me. A love that did nothing but cause pain. Crushed, my heart quivered in pain. And another love, the love she was searching for. Out of the blue, love found me. A strong love that would build her up. He was my rock.

I realized she had a notebook in her lap, a cheap yellow legal pad, one of the ones Ben had sent me. She struggled to write with her left hand, covering the page with messy squiggles. As I watched her, it dawned on me that she was writing a new song. Here she was, hunted by a psycho, injured, stolen away from her life, and she was still working.

The sun finally crested the horizon, and its rays bathed the valley in early morning light, painting gold highlights in her red hair and across her delicate features. This Maggie was not the Maggie Lane in the tabloids and the news. This was a part of herself she hid from the public. I liked this Maggie, this vulnerable woman; she had depth and soul. She was nothing like plastic party girl I thought she was.

I looked around me. It felt strange to be there in that house again. When I’d locked the door five years ago, I never expected to return. I’d thought it would sit there, empty forever. I idly rubbed my thigh at the thought of that day and limped slightly as I stretched the kinks out of my legs and went to refill my empty coffee cup.

I didn’t like it when people watched me sing. I know that sounds strange for someone like me who performs for a living, but when I am working on a new song, it’s private. It’s mine and no one else's. It surprised me I didn’t mind Liam watching, and I didn’t know why. I trusted him, but maybe he shouldn’t have trusted me.

I furtively looked back at the cabin. Liam would have been mad if he knew I’d borrowed his sat phone. I snuck it out from under the blanket I was wrapped in and dialed Julie. I couldn’t let her think I was dead. She had done too much for me to leave her hanging.

Indigo is an odd group; we are all so different. I’m obsessive-compulsive—a fraud who made good. Julie was slightly crazy, but super organized and good at her job. Elijah and the guys in the band all had different backgrounds. Eli had attended the New England Conservatory of Music to study the cello. Levi washed dishes in the back of the bar I’d played in, and just by chance, he’d come out to fill in one day in an emergency.

I listened to Julie’s phone ring and hoped she was awake answer it.

“Hello?” Her sleepy voice was quiet over the line.

“Julie?” I whispered, keeping one eye on the cabinet.

“Maggie? MAGGIE?! Are you okay? Where are you? The goon squad here won’t tell me a thing. They’re all rushing around on their fancy ear mics, searching everyone, and barking orders at us all. What happened?” She cried, her voice shaking. God, it was nice to have someone worry about me. My parents were older when they had me. They were from a different generation, and they couldn’t understand my decisions. Confused and disturbed by the course of my life, they’d given up and checked out. Sometimes it seemed like Julie was the only one who still really cared.

Thank God Julie turned down the recording deal she was offered. I felt bad that she wasn’t on stage alongside me, but it was a godsend for my career. She was an amazing manager.

Success is fleeting. I have no idea why so many people came to hear me sing, but they did. I was going to ride it as long as possible, until they realized I really had no idea what I was doing. I needed Julie to keep up the illusion.

“Shhhhh, Julie. Liam doesn’t know I’m calling you. He’s got us up in the mountains at some cabin.”

“You have to come home right now! What are we going to do about the tour? You can’t disappoint your fans, Maggie. They are here to see you.”

“I know, I know.” I took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. “I’m doing the best I can, but Julie, I got SHOT!”

“What?!” she screeched. “No way! You always were a drama queen, Maggie. If you want some time off, you can have some when this tour is over, but you have responsibilities. You can’t leave me to clean up your mess again.”

“I’m serious, Julie. I went to a club, and some idiot in the crowd shot me. Liam barely got us out alive.”

“I need to come there. You tell me where you are right now.”

“Julie, I have no idea where I am.” I heard Liam’s footsteps in the hall. “Oh, he’s coming! I’ve got to go!” I quickly pressed “end” and shoved the phone under the blanket again as Liam walked by, a faraway look on his face.

I closed my mouth, cutting off the last note, and crossed out a few lines. Wrinkling my brow, I tried to think of a better verse. I chewed on the end of my pen and stared out over the water. After scratching down a few more words, I dropped my pen on the notepad and reached over for a sip of coffee. Glancing back in the house, I thought about the man inside.

Liam was hot. Smoking hot. I was stuck in a cabin with a sexy special ops soldier. Too bad I was shaky and weak. I was single. He hadn’t received one call from a woman in the whole time I’d known him. If I’d felt better, I would have considered our confinement a sign from heaven. I hadn’t had a relationship in a while… a long while. This tour was the longest dry spell I’d had since I was sixteen and slipped under the bleachers with the captain of the football team. I was sorely tempted to recreate that magic with Mr. Special Ops and let him meet my needs.

Liam surprised me. He was a lot sweeter than I’d expected. Kinsey hadn’t led me to believe he could be so tender. Gently changing my bandages, helping me with my shower, he had shown a side of himself I think he usually kept hidden. I wondered about that Liam, the one he kept sheltered behind a cold, stony facade.

I blinked, realizing I was a little loopy from the meds. Okay—a lot loopy. I felt floaty. I could still feel the pain, but it didn’t hurt. Instead, it was locked behind a door, present but not a problem. The door wouldn’t open until the meds wore off.

I cocked my head and looked back at the house. Maybe I should have listed to Liam from the beginning. Maybe he was right, and someone really was after me. I mean, getting shot at that club wasn’t random. Was it connected to the letters and the break-ins? I sighed. It would have been too much of a coincidence if it wasn’t. I had to face reality. What’s more real than getting shot?

I thought about the last few months. I got boxes of fan mail every day. Julie went through most of it. I provided her with signed photos for the autograph seekers. She answered most of the mail, only setting aside the ones that needed a more personal touch.

Threats had started arriving roughly three months earlier. There were always kooks sending me mail; most were determined to be harmless. We’d turn their letters over the police and move on.

These threats were different. They were toxic. They started once a week and escalated to once a day. Then the break-ins started. That’s when I confided in Kinsey, and Mason contacted Liam. Julie had used rent-a-cops for years, and I was perfectly happy with them. They left me alone. They kept the place secure… for a while.

Looking at Liam, I felt guilty about that folder hidden under my bathroom sink. I should have taken the photos more seriously, but without music, did I really have a life?