I don’t sleep well.

That’s for certain.

When I wake in the morning, my whole body hurts, everything inside me aches and there is that deep fear that I had finally started living without. What the hell is Trey doing coming back into my life? I know, because my instinct screams at me, that I’m in danger. That feeling, it’s an empty bottomless pit. A feeling that’s all-consuming, that captures your every move. It brings on panic, and fear, and the inability to function.

I’ve been there.

I don’t want to be there again.

I think about Maverick and how utterly incredible he was last night. He was there for me, he listened, he didn’t argue or talk over me. He just sat back, those intense green eyes holding mine, those big arms crossed over his chest, and he listened. When he’d put his hands on me because I was freaking out, he would bring a calm over my body that made me feel safe, safer than I’ve ever felt. And when he hugged me last night, when he put his arms around me and let me cry into him ...

Something changed inside me.

I felt something shift. Something begin to grow. And now I’m afraid. I’m afraid because I can’t allow anything to grow. I’m a singer, a famous one at that, and he’s a biker. Our worlds simply could never mix. He has a home, and a family, and a club. I have the road, and music, and ... me. That thought brings pain to my heart, a pain that lodges deep and has my shoulders slumping.

How can I spend time with Maverick and not allow these feelings to grow? I’m not stupid, I’m not a naïve girl that thinks I can just ignore the feelings and keep him at arm’s length. I know I can’t do that. I know the depth of how I feel. I’m the kind of girl that falls in love with a smile or the simple sound of laughter. I have a free heart, and I have a soft heart. It opens easily, and it loves fondly.

I already know if I spend time with Maverick my heart is going to latch on with both hands and curl around him, not letting go.

And I also know that won’t end well. In fact, it’ll end in tears. For me. Not for him. He’s the kind of man that can have anyone he wants. I know this.

Which means I have to limit the amount of alone time I spend with him. I won’t be impolite, I want his security and I want his friendship. But I can’t allow those fingers to curl around my jaw, for those rugged lips to graze my forehead, for those big arms to wrap around me and hold me tight. I can’t have that. Because I will never let him go.

No alone time. I can do that.

I have his phone number now, that’ll make things a whole lot easier.

Remembering I have his phone number, I throw myself out of bed and rush over, picking up my phone and then stopping myself. This isn’t holding myself back. I’m like a teenager getting a text from her crush. I close my eyes, gather myself, and then glance down at the screen. Disappointment floods my chest when I see no message. What did I expect anyway? That he’d message? Of course not. He’s probably asleep. He was up late too.

Still, I can’t stop that nagging sinking feeling in my chest.

I definitely need to avoid alone time.

A knock sounds at my door and I walk over, opening it to see Susan standing outside, a cup of tea in her hands, giving me that look that I used to hate so damned much. It’s a look of pity. Like she feels sorry for me. Like she thinks I’m going to lose it at any moment and get put in a padded cell. I hate that she still doesn’t fully believe in me, and it makes me wonder why. Does Susan have a reason for being so ... uptight and withdrawn? So unsure if a person is ever telling her the truth?

“Morning,” I say, taking the tea. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, studying me. “How did you sleep?”

“Not great. What’s the news this morning?”

She exhales. “It’s not too bad. We have refunded the fans for the show, it comes at a bit of a loss to you, but you’re earning enough to quickly cover it.”

I shrug. Money has never been why I do this. I rarely touch it. Those fans deserve their tickets refunded—I didn’t give them a complete show and I ran off the stage.

“That’s okay. And the news?”

“The news is the news, they’re spinning a million different stories. A stalker, an ex-lover, mental health issues, drug use—you name it, someone is writing about it. We’re doing a press release this morning, you can say something, clear up some confusion.”

I frown. “And what exactly am I supposed to say? That I saw my ex-boyfriend who used to bash me and froze?” She flinches. I feel bad for that and soften my face instantly. “Sorry.”

“Just simply say you’ve been unwell and had to rush off the stage because you were going to throw up.”

“And spark a million rumors that I’m pregnant?”

She purses her lips. “Well, you could simply say you’ve had a medical problem and felt extremely dizzy, but you’ll be well again for your next shows.”

“That’s probably the lie that’ll allow for the least amount of damage,” I mutter.

“I’ve ordered you some breakfast. Try and stay away from the internet. You know what it’s like, it isn’t helpful. Take a few hours, and then get ready. The conference is at lunch time.”

“And security?” I ask her.

“We have had no other reason to believe that Treyton is looking for you, Scarlett. We have security on extra alert, but at this stage I don’t believe we need anything more. It’ll only cause chaos. He may have been at the show. He may not have been. I see no reason that he would have to want to hurt you, so for now, we’re going to assume this was an ... emotional reaction to past events on your behalf.”

I blink.

Seriously? Is she serious?

An emotional reaction?

God damn her for not believing in me.

“I don’t feel safe, Susan. I’ve told you this before and you didn’t hear me. Please hear me now and put more security on.”

She flinches again; this time my face doesn’t soften.

“I’ll have them keep extra watch over you.”

Then she leaves.

Damn her.

I walk over to my phone and pick up, angrily punching out a text without thought. I don’t know why I do it, considering Maverick and I have only known each other a matter of a week, and yet I want to vent to him. Maybe because right now, probably outside of Amalie, he’s the only person I trust.

S – Susan doesn’t believe me. And it makes me cross. She’s not putting on extra security.

I send it, and then my tummy erupts in butterflies. Will he answer? Will he think I’m some sort of stage-5 clinger? Considering he only gave me his number last night ... Dammit. Why can’t text messages be reversed? Before I can think any more about it, the phone alerts me to an incoming text message. From him. My heart flutters and my fingers tremble a little as I rush to open it.

M – Susan needs a good fucking talking to. I will have some extra eyes on you. Don’t panic.

I push my lips out, think about it, and then decide to go with a simple reply.

S – Thank you. I really appreciate it.

M – Seen the news this morning?

I exhale.

S – I’ve been avoiding it.

M – Keep avoiding it. You feeling okay?

S – Yeah. Thanks.

He doesn’t reply after that, a small, sensitive part of me kind of feels like his messages were a little distant. But, he is a biker, and I don’t imagine bikers love texting a great deal. So maybe he sounds gruff because it isn’t really his thing. I push that thought aside and open up Facebook. I shouldn’t, I know this, but curiosity burns at me as I get onto my fan page and start reading.

My heart sinks into my chest as I scour over the words. We’re artists, we all have haters, but today it seems like they’re out in full force. There is a picture of me, frozen on stage, and I honestly look like I’m stoned and completely out of it. I’m staring at nothing—or so it would seem to onlookers—and my mouth is slightly agape, eyes empty. God. Not good. The comments make it a whole lot worse.

Another artist down to the drugs. What a waste of money. She doesn’t even sound good anymore.

She’s probably going to start stripping naked on the stage next, to get attention. Give up, bitch, your career is over. Waste of money.

I can’t believe I wasted time on this singer. She isn’t even good. She looks like a hooker. What’s with that shirt? Who comes on stage spaced out. I want a full refund and more!

She’s probably pregnant and doesn’t know who the father is. #slut. That’s what happens to them all.

She’s ugly anyway. Time for a new sound. She’s old news.

Dumb bitch. I want my money back.

I don’t read anymore. I drop my phone and tears roll down my cheeks. Why the hell did I read that? Now I feel terrible, so much worse than I already felt before. I know people are cruel, I know those comments aren’t true, but they tore me to my core. I have to do something about this. I can’t have a single one of those people believing that I don’t appreciate them.

I rush out of the room and down the hall to where Susan is on the phone at the kitchen table. When she sees me, she ends the call. “What is it?”

“I’m doing a free show. Here. In a few nights.”

She blinks. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m going to open it up to anyone who wants to watch me. They will pay nothing. To say sorry for letting them down when they came to see me.”

“No. Scarlett. That will never happen. There is no way there is somewhere in this city with enough space for that many thousands of people. A free show will cause chaos.”

“Then we’ll do one of those rooftop things, where I’m up high on a building, and everyone can just line the streets and watch.”

“Scarlett. The police will never allow it. No. I’m sorry. There has to be something else.”

Frustration bubbles in my chest. I have to do something for these people, but she’s right, a free show will never work because there will be no way of controlling it and it would get out of hand. There has to be something.

“How many people are attending the second concert?”

“20,000.”

“There has to be something we can do.”

“Not to please that many people.”

“What about doing a free concert, just for them? They can receive a refund, in full, but also use their ticket or some sort of proof that they had a ticket, to enter for another concert.”

She thinks on this. “Your other fans may get upset over this.”

“My other fans watched a whole show. These ones didn’t get the chance. It might allow me to apologies, and it might calm some of them down.”

Susan thinks on it. “It could work, but it could also go very very badly.”

“I can’t just let it go, Susan. I have to do something. I’ve never let my fans down before. I’ll explain it in full at the conference today. And I’ll explain why I’m doing it. Some fans may get angry, some may disown me, but there will be some that will come, and they will appreciate it. It might douse some of the fire.”

She thinks on it some more. “Let me make a few calls, see if we can work it out.”

“Okay.”

“Go and eat, Scarlett. You’ve got a big day ahead.”

Yes.

Indeed, it seems I do.