Page 77 of Forced Proximity

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Rehearsal was swapped for script change reviews, making the day lighter than most, and we leave the studio around nine to stop at Justin’s favorite grocery store before heading home. The moment Justin gets into the seat, his phone rings. He stares at the screen with deep frown lines before sending the call to voicemail.

A couple of times in the last few months he’s had that same look after getting a call or message. He blew me off the one time I asked about it. But Justin’s definitely the type of guy to hide if someone is threatening him. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah.’ He clicks the seatbelt and looks out the window.

‘Listen. I know I brought it up before, but if someone’s threatening you, I need to know.’ My voice is more concerned than firm. I fan my fingers on his forearm. ‘Justin, I’m serious. Just because things have been quiet, doesn’t mean there’s not still a threat.’

He wraps his hand on top of mine, and it takes until that moment for me to realize I’m still touching him. ‘It’s not a threat. Not really, anyway.’ He removes his hand and stares at the cars zipping by on the road. ‘My mom has tried for months to talk to me. And I can’t. But she said if I don’t then she’s going to drag my sister into this shit, and I can’t have that either. I’m sick of the emotional blackmail, you know? I just need to figure out what to do.’

I cannot imagine having her as a mom. ‘Have you talked to Mia?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘She said she sincerely doubts my mom will even find her, and if she does, she’s not worried.’

‘Do you trust Mia when she says that?’

He shrugs and continues his vacant stare out the window. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

He faces me and I see everything – the fear, the sadness, the worry. A dam broke a while ago when Justin told me about his upbringing, what he saw as his failure to protect his sister, his mom’s cruel emotional tactics that keep him in check today.

‘There’s some stuff …’ he starts. And then, he unleashes.

I sit quietly as he tells me about the money. My God, the money. My gut knots so hard that my breath shakes at the amount he’s given her. Sure, if the mom is wonderful and needs the money, that’s one thing. But shady business dealings, her own multi-million-dollar place, using her child as a personal ATM … my chest grows so hot I turn the vent on to blast my face.

His mom is a master emotional manipulator, and even though logically he knows she holds no power, he says that message hasn’t transferred to his insides, and he constantly feels guilty.

I keep my face calm, but I’m anything but. I’m hired to protect Justin’s body, but I’m raging inside at the threat to his mental well-being. It’s been many years since I wanted to hit someone who wasn’t an active physical threat. But if this woman stood in front of me, I’m not sure I could refrain.

And she just catapulted to the top of the suspect list. The moment we get back, I’m feeding this intel to our home base, and messaging Jack and Marcus.

When he finishes talking, I’ve never wanted to hug someone so hard in my life. I shove my hands under my legs to stop myself from pulling him into my chest. ‘You don’t deserve this. At all. You’re a really good person. You know that, right?’

He shrugs. ‘Am I?’

I want to think he’s kidding, but he’s not. The sadness and pain in his voice digs into me, and I’m desperate to take it away. ‘Of course you are. I see the way you are with people.’

A soft grin spreads. ‘I guess it’s not like I kick puppies or anything.’

‘Jesus, this took a dark turn,’ I say with a chuckle.

‘Darker than unloading my shit on you like you’re a therapist for the last twenty minutes?’

He may have thought of this as unloading, but I’m glowing that he trusted me enough to share. Yes, the other week he opened up, but he’d had lager-encouragement. Here, now, he’s totally sober.

Every moment I spend with him, I fall deeper. I’m tiptoeing on dangerous territory but refuse to cross the line. But if this stalker doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to bust. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know. But it ends, one way or the other. Either I give her everything I have, or I walk away. But I’ve got to be done.’ He rests his head back onto the seat. ‘What I do know, though, is that I need to change this depressing as fuck conversation.’

I clasp my hands behind my back and stretch until my spine pops. ‘Well, then, in other news, I found a new recipe for popcorn seasoning.’

‘You were searching for recipes?’ His eyes crinkle. ‘You hardly ever cook.’

‘True. But I love popcorn,’ I say. ‘But the recipe calls for cayenne pepper. And we all know your feelings toward cayenne … sooo …’

His mouth drops open in feigned anger. ‘It was allergies!’ He rubs his hands together. ‘All right. Tonight, we have a difficult choice to make. Fight Club or Pulp Fiction.’

Thank God. I needed this subject changed. Every time we get personal, my mind shifts and I imagine slow-mo running barefoot on a beach into his open arms. It’s not healthy. ‘That’s tough. I mean Fight Club has Brad Pitt in his prime. I mean, those abs. Not human.’