Page 27 of Carte

I cleared my throat to get some semblance of normalcy and professionalism in me, "I' m here.”

“He didn’t get them,” she said, flipping through pages, her eyes tracking the words of the fast moving papers.

I looked around. Everywhere around her the papers, notebooks and journals were scattered. Upon closer inspection, I could see the handwriting was hers.

Those were her songs, lyrics, and personal thoughts laid bare here for anyone to see. The fact that Mark stood right in this room as she went through it left a bad taste in my mouth. I didn’t want anyone to see this. No one had a right to it. Only a few had that privilege.

The fact that I hoped I would become one of those few privileged caught me by surprise, but I couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to.

I needed to get my head on straight. Get back behind the professional line I had.

I cleared my throat, “Harley, we need to talk.”

Hearing her name, her formal name slipped from my lips, her head snapped up, and her brow furrowed as she tilted her head. She knew I was sliding into something official, something she wouldn’t like. I haven’t missed the satisfied smile and a glint in her eye every time the nickname I gave her slipped from my mouth. “What’s going on?”

She looked between Cassie and me. Back and forth, back and forth.

But Cassie stood silent yet again.

“The decision was made to cancel the rest of the tour.” The words clawed at my throat. I knew how much all of this meant to her. How hard she worked. How much of herself she gave to her fans.

Harley sat motionless for a few beats, blinking, and then she shrieked, “What?”

“Listen,” I got my hands up, trying to what… even I didn’t know. “It’s for the best. You’re in danger. And the only way to keep you safe is to go to a remote location, max out your security, and limit contact with the outside world.”

“Are you fucking insane?” She blew, just like I knew she would.

Standing up, she threw the journal she had in her hands to the couch. I watched as she fisted her hands by her sides, threw her head up and deep breathed feeling powerless. “You can’t do this to me.”

Her broken whisper cracked something inside my chest.

“I can. And I will,” I reached over, took her hand in both of mine and tugged her back to seating. “I’m here to keep you safe. And that’s what I’ll fucking do, no matter the cost.”

A single tear slipped from her eye. Then another. Then another. The appearance of every new tear that dipped from her eyes felt like one bone was breaking in my body. Their slow glide down her beautiful face was pure agony.

“You just want to control me, like everyone else.” Those words had alarms going off inside my brain. Was there something that happened to Harley in her past? Have I misread this all wrong?

Fuck, the fact that I went along with the labels assessment of an overzealous fan, and didn’t dig more, was a major fuck up on my part.

But, in all fairness, she hadn’t let me in.

“Dynamo,” I called. A surge of relief coursed through me when her large, grey blue eyes lifted to mine, her gaze going softer. There was more grey in them now. A clear sign that she was hurting.

“Please, don’t make me go,” she begged, and I almost slid off that coffee table on the floor to my knees.

It tore me up, but there was no other choice. “I need to keep you safe. Keep you alive. And I’ll do that with my dying breath, Dynamo.”

They came in earnest then. Her tears. Coupled with the silent, body wrecking sobs. She never looked away from my eyes though. For the first time since I met her, Harley Thorne truly let me in, and gave me the privilege of seeing her true self.

I turned and pinned Cassie with a look. “Get out.”

Cassie jolted, looked at Harley and opened her mouth. But when she looked back at me, she snapped them closed, nodded, turned and walked from the room.

I looked back at the woman sitting in front of me. She folded into herself. Her forehead to her knees, arms around her body. She was holding herself up so she wouldn’t break apart. God, seeing her like that cracked something in the left side of my chest. A pain so sharp I hissed in a breath, and rubbed the butt of my palm against the sternum a couple of times to soothe the sting.

Her brown hair was all around her, it was almost like that mane was offering protection of its own from the cruel world, and a shitstorm she found herself in.

Damnit all to hell. Seeing her this way hurt like someone was pouring acid down my windpipe. It hurt more than each and every fucked up situation that happened over the course of my life. Each twitch of her body from that fucking silent sob sent painful shockwave through my own.