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"I didn't see what was right in front of my face."
"You don't owe him anything, Sparrow." I stop in front of her, cupping her cheek to tilt her head back. "He's your manager. You don't have to fuck him just because he helped get you a record deal. If he expects that, he's a fucking asshole. That's not love. That's manipulation. It's predatory."
"I thought he was a good guy, Gideon." Her expression falls. "I thought he was helping me because he believed in me. And all this time, he's just wanted to sleep with me. It all feels wrong now."
"That doesn't mean you don't deserve the deal you got, Sparrow. You've worked your ass off to get where you are. If he opened a door for you because he hoped to get something more out of it, fuck him. But that doesn't mean the door has to close. He may have cracked it open, but your talent allowed you to step through, not him. He can't take that away from you."
"What am I going to do?"
"Fire him and hire someone who deserves to be your manager. Someone who will fight for you every step of the way." I think I may know someone who can help, but I don't tell her that just in case I can't make it happen for her. I don't want to get her hopes up on the off chance that I'm wrong.
"Do you think…?"
"He didn't do it, Sparrow," I say again, my voice firm. "As much as I fucking hate to defend the guy, he wasn't the one who put those pictures up in your dressing room. And if he didn't put them up, chances are, he isn't the one who took them, either."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because stalkers don't work in groups. It's a solitary endeavor. And he didn't leave the table all night until the very end. At that point, he didn't have time to do all of that. And, frankly, even if he'd had time, the photos were hung too goddamn high up for him to reach."
For the first time in hours, she cracks a smile.
"There you are," I murmur, pulling her closer. "There's that fucking perfect smile."
"Gideon."
"Don't Gideon me, baby. I haven't seen that smile in hours. I was going crazy waiting for it." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. "You have no idea the depths I'd sink to just to see it again, do you?"
"I'm beginning to get a good idea."
"No, I don't think you are, Sparrow." I shake my head, dead serious. "I've been all over this world. I've seen beautiful things. But not a single one of them makes me feel like that smile does. It's my own personal addiction, Kenna. The possibility of getting to see it every day for the rest of my life? That's something worth fighting for. And the possibility of never seeing it again makes my fucking heart hurt."
"Gideon," she whispers.
"I know you're afraid, baby. But you're the bravest person I know. I need you to reach deep for a little of the same courage that allowed you to get back on that stage tonight and trust that I'm not going to break your heart. I need you to want this as much as I do. It'll never work if you don't."
"I do want it." Her throat works as she swallows. "I want it so bad, Gideon. But what if…?"
"What if what? Say it, Sparrow?"
"What if something happens to you?" Her voice is a mere scrap of sound, but her question breaks my heart anyway.
"Eventually, something will, Kenna. Eventually, something happens to all of us. That's life, baby. We all live, and we all die. But if we let fear keep us from giving every piece of ourselves to life, we die in a whisper instead of a roar. I want to go out in a roar, surrounded by the people who matter. And I want the same thing for you. You have so much love to give. Don't keep it locked away because you're afraid to lose someone. If you do that, you've already lost everyone before you ever even have them."
I know a thing or two about loss, grief, and death. I was in the military. I was surrounded by all three. And I came away knowing this: fear is insidious. It grows in the darkness, siphoning power from every worry and wayward misgiving. It'll consume you if you let it. The only thing more powerful is our refusal to submit and succumb. We're all going to die eventually. There's no changing that fact. All we can do is accept it and refuse to let it define us or the shape of our lives.
"I know," she whispers. "That's why I'm here right now, Gideon. I don't want to live that way. I don't want to let it chase you away." She swallows again, her gaze shifting across my face. "I'd rather know what it's like to be yours for five minutes than to spend the rest of my life regretting that I didn't take that leap with you. I need to know."
"Know what, Sparrow?"
"What it feels like to belong to you."
Jesus. She's killing me, one sweet little word at a time.
"Show me, Gideon. Please?"
"Now? Tonight?"
"Now. Tonight."
