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There wasn’t anything she could give him besides what he seemed to be asking for: her friendship. Even though, at times, she wanted more from him than that, there was something liberating about knowing he wasn’t trying to get something more or to use her for his own gain. She could be herself with him in a way she couldn’t with anyone else.
“Ice cream’s my weakness,” she said. “My team keeps the freezer stocked with these salted-caramel ice cream bars. They’re covered in chocolate with chunks of pretzels in them. They’re amazing.” PJ was a little mortified to realize she moaned again while talking about her ice cream bars.
She let her eyes glance up to Gabe’s and caught the heated intensity of his look.
Then, with the blink of an eye it was washed away.
What was that about?
“Tell me,” he said as he picked up his now-empty plate and grabbed hers before heading to the sink. “Do you think it was Kurt who stole your journal and leaked it to the press? More publicity for him? When did you have it last?”
PJ’s stomach dropped. She’d forgotten about her journal for one blissful minute.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t really know.” She felt even more stupid, not knowing how someone got her journal or who might have it.
Would she put it past Kurt to do something like that? No, not at all. Erika was no fan of PJ’s either. Despite the fact Kurt had dumped PJ for her, Erika had harassed PJ for weeks afterward, texting that PJ better stay away from her man and all that.
PJ didn’t need that kind of drama in her world. Lord knew her life on the road gave her enough drama as it was. She’d changed her number and tried to forget about Kurt and Erika.
“Where did you keep it?” Gabe asked the question gently, as though he wanted to be sure she knew he was only asking the question to be supportive.
PJ shook her head and felt the telltale prick of tears behind her eyes. “That’s the thing.Nobodyknew I kept a journal. And, I mean nobody. I never wrote in it in front of other people. Only when I was by myself at night. I kept it on a USB drive that I hid in a tear in the lining of my purse. The drive even looked like an old lipstick so anyone who found it would think it was makeup.”
“It’s not on a cloud or backed up on your computer or anything?” he asked.
“No. I should have just deleted it after each entry, you know? I mean really, what’s the point of saving all that?” She shrugged. “I just got in the habit of it in rehab and never stopped.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a lot of years. You were what, sixteen when you went to rehab?”
“Fifteen. I wanted to get that whole addiction thing out of the way early in life. Call me an overachiever.” The comment got the laugh she was looking for.
Gabe grabbed two bottles of water and tugged her toward the couch, settling down on one end while she sank into the other.
“Someone knew it was there,” Gabe said returning the conversation to her journal.
PJ bit her lip and nodded. “Whoever took it had to be really close to me. I keep my purse with me all the time. If I don’t have it, Lydia or Ellis carries it.”
She shook her head. “Maybe one of them left it where a fan or stagehand could access it backstage—but I doubt it. They’re as protective of my privacy as I am. They didn’t know they were protecting my journal, but they know my cell phone is in there and fans can go crazy trying to grab a piece of me. They wouldn’t have left that lying around for anyone to pick up.”
Whoever did this was someone she trusted or someone her family or team had trusted. And that made all of this that much harder to handle.
Chapter 3
Gabe couldn’t believe they’d been up all night talking together. When PJ had looked so sad talking about her missing journal, he changed the topic to something lighter.
They’d spent the last five hours talking about books, music, movies, pets they’d had when they were young—pets they wished they could have now but didn’t have the time for—and food. They talked a lot about food. PJ’s eyes lit up, and she became animated when she talked about the things she loved.
She told him about her writing process and how song ideas seemed to build in her mind, until it felt like she’d explode and she had to write them down. If he tried to explain that to someone, it would sound stupid. Coming from her, it somehow seemed magical and otherworldly.
Wow, you’re a sap.
He was, though. He was a total and complete sap where Pru Cantrell was concerned. She smiled weakly at him now, the exhaustion clear in her face. It wasn’t just that she was tired from staying up all night talking.
It was a real, bone-deep exhaustion from the weight and the pressure on her. He could see it. Her life was filled with pressure on a good day, given her tour schedule and the demands of recording new material. Add to it the additional stress of the missing journal, and it was obvious she was at a breaking point.
“I should probably head back to my room,” she said, looking at the door…but her voice told him she didn’t want to.
“You don’t have a show for another six days,” he said, and then wanted to kick himself when she looked at him sharply, no doubt surprised he knew her schedule.
