“Are you out on a date?” There’s only one photographer, but he’s loud, and heads turn our way.
All-too familiar discomfort has me lowering my head. I won’t give him another usable photo if I can help it. These guys are parasites.
Sebastian steps in front of me, hand still firmly wrapped around mine, and holds his other out in front of him. “Hey, man, step back, okay?”
“How did you two meet?” the photographer asks, ignoring Bash. He doesn’t press any closer, but he doesn’t step back, either, and I grimace at the rapid-fireclicksof the camera’s shutter closing and opening.
Bash ignores him and pulls me into the coffee shop’s parking lot toward his car. Keeping himself between me and the photographer, he unlocks the car and ushers me inside before asking the pap to back off one more time. The guy fires off a couple more photos before stepping back onto the sidewalk.
At least the Midwest paparazzo aren’t as aggressive as the ones in LA.
Still, my hands tremble as I twist them in my lap. I was trying to escape this kind of thing. The intrusive questions, the cameras shoved in your face, the lack of privacy or human decency.
I suppose you can run from your problems, but sometimes they chase after you.
“You okay?” Sebastian frowns as he climbs into the driver’s seat, looks me over to make sure I’m buckled, then starts the car. “I don’t know where that guy came from.”
“I’m fine.” And I am. Mostly. Hopefully, that was a one-off. But how did he find us?
“Are you sure? That felt violating.”
“I’m sure. I’ve been through worse.”
“Jesus, Indie.” He reaches over the center console and takes my hand. “I’m so sorry. All the years you’ve had to deal with shit like that…” His face crumples into something pained. “I should have been there to protect you.”
Despite the lingering flush of adrenaline and anxiety, his words wrap around me like a hug. We’re ambushed by a photographer, and his first thought is for me. His first instinctwas to put himself between me and the threat. To be angry for me. To regret that he wasn’t there to stand between me and situations like that, even though I was the one who caused our separation.
God, I love him.
“You’re here, now. That’s all that matters.”
Bash squeezes my hand. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again, baby. You’re stuck with me.”
Shaky laughter spills from my lips. The euphoria of what he’s saying clashes with the jittery feeling that accompanies coming down from an adrenaline spike. “Promise?”
“I promise. You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s always been that way, even those years we were apart. We’re a package deal, Indie. There’s no me without you.”
Tears pool in my eyes, but I blink them away. “Same.”
I always felt like a piece of me was missing after I ran that summer, and I finally have it back. I won’t let anyone take that from me. Not even myself.
I only hope today was a blip on the radar. A one-off. A minor annoyance.
Only time will tell.
forty
INDIGO
Time is a little bitch,and so are people on the internet.
All I want is to curl up with my boyfriend and enjoy some alone time. Peace, quiet, and a lazy day in sounds amazing when it’s been so hard to come by during the postseason. Sebastian and the rest of the Rogues only have a couple of days to rest before the biggest series of the season, and some of their careers, kicks off.
They made it to the Cup.
They’re seeded above the Eastern Conference champions, so the first two games will be played at home, and everyone is thrilled, but they’re also stressed. If Bash normally takes on a significant amount of the pressure during the regular season, he must be bowing under it now.
I can’t wait to watch him kick ass, but I’m also worried about him. Hence thestay home and do nothingplans.
