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“Of all the songs you could have played her.”
“I’ve played here all your stuff, Bren. And let’s face it. With what you write about, if I had to sensor what I could play her, I’d be left with, like, two songs. Tops.”
THIRTY-THREE
Sofia
If I didn’t have to think about Addy and her safety, the security detail would seem obnoxious. Everett now drives us everywhere, not that we venture out often, and never drops eyes from us. Once he is assigned to our security detail, I do my best to get to know the man but fail miserably.
He is a man of few words. He is tall, muscular, and handsome—very military type. When I ask, he confirms he is a former marine but declines to provide any further details. Instead, he reassures me that he is more than capable of the job, as if that is the reason for my questions.
I’ll never get used to Bren’s lifestyle. That’s for sure.
Bren reassures me Everett is temporary until we can vet and hire someone else, then he can go back to his original assignment with Fritz. Despite the security company having someone ready to start now, Bren is being paranoid and insists on doing independent background checks, stalling the process even further.
At this rate, Everett will be driving Addy to college, and poor Fritz will be left to his own devices. Though from what I hear, Fritz is the least troublesome in the band, so I doubt he needs a security guard to begin with.
Then the emails start flooding in.
After the first scathing message, I decide I won’t tell Bren. But then there is a third. After half a day, I have collected twenty emails that would seem to be from the same person, if it weren’t for the unique originating addresses.
Bren is chatting with Andreas when I finally work up the courage to show him.
“What is it?” he asks when he sees my concerned face. “Andreas? Give us a moment?”
“No. Andreas should stay,” I say.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and both men watch me set my laptop on the coffee table.
I upload my work email and turn the laptop so they can read the screen. “I’ve been getting these emails from some of your fans. At first, I thought I should just ignore them, but they’re getting a little out of hand.”
Bren’s brows furrow as he scans through the emails, his jaw tightening further with each click. I take deep breaths, knowing what he is reading.
One fan writes that I should die because I don’t deserve a man like Bren, and he is hers. Another calls me a homewrecker because, as far as the fan is concerned, Bren belongs with Emma Johanssen. The rest are variations of calling me awful names or wishing me harm. But the last straw is the email insinuating harm would come not only to me but also to my daughter, in much more graphic language, of course. That last email boiled my blood scathing-hot and forced me to tell Bren.
“I’m so sorry, Sofia,” Bren says, looking up at me with apologetic eyes as he stays on the sofa while I stand with my arms crossed.
“Me too. I wasn’t going to say anything, but then they mentioned Addy, and that sent me over the edge with anger.”
“You should have told me. But you don’t need to be scared,” Bren says. “Nothing’s going to happen to her—”
“I’m not scared something will happen to her. I’m scared someone will try to hurt her, and I’ll go to prison for murder.”
Andreas snickers until Bren silences him with one look.
“We’ll expedite your new security,” Bren says. “Andreas? Take care of it?”
“On it,” Andreas says before leaving us alone.
Bren stands and pulls me into his arms. My shoulders relax instantly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Has this happened to you before? With exes?” I ask and look up at his face.
Bren nods. “Yeah. This is very common. But please don’t let them get what they want,” he says.
“I won’t,” I say.
* * *
