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SIXTY-THREE
Itake several weeks to rest, and the guys drive me crazy. They never leave me alone, and at the end of my break, I’m ready to face the music—literally.
They moved back into my house like they were made to be there, and they were. This time, there are no contracts. They aren’t here as my bodyguards, but I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of them in that aspect. They are here as my boyfriends, and nobody gets to judge or know.
My life is my own, so screw what anyone else thinks.
Swallowing hard, I face the closed door of the press room. They aren’t here to tear me apart, but to put me back together. It seems in my absence, the truth about my attack came out and it only made my reputation that much more infamous, but it’s time for the truth to come from my lips.
A hand touches my back, and I glance up with a smile. “Are you ready, my love?” Astro murmurs.
“Ready.” I nod as Raffiel opens the door. Dal and Cillian are already waiting, and each take a hand and help me onto the small stage with the table and mics. They even pull out my chair, making the crowd laugh before they stand by my side.
They never let me leave their sight.
Clearing my throat, I hide my shaking hands and smile brightly. “Hi, everyone, thank you so much for coming out. I won’t be taking any questions, but I have a statement to read. I hope that’s okay.” Sitting up taller, I gaze out over the room that would have previously paralyzed me with fear—fear of what they might say—but let them say what they will.
I know the truth.
Those who love me also know the truth, and that’s all that matters.
“As I’m sure you all know by now, I was attacked. A man opened fire on me and my heroic guards, who sadly lost their lives.” I choke on their names as I list them and have to take a deep breath before I continue.
“Those are the names of those who lost their lives in regard to the attack, not the assailant. We will not immortalize him. I survived, but at the hospital, the man found me once more—a man, I have learned, that was stalking me for a very long time, who has broken into my house and terrorized me for a little over a year. The only reason I am here today is because of the four men standing at my side. They saved my life.” I take a deep breath. “I’m healing, and I have no plans to run away again,” I tease, making them laugh. “This is my life, and it felt important to share the truth. This happens to women across the world all the time. I want them to know they are not alone. No one should live with a stalker. So, for everyone asking, no, he did not kill Reign Harrow. He did not stop me. He only made me more determined to be who I am. For all of those people watching right now with dreams in their hearts, a wonderful woman recently told me to forgive myself and to shine brightly, and that’s what I plan to do.
With her permission, I begin to speak.
“I won’t let an insane man, whose name I won’t ever voice, dull that. I am alive, my scars will heal, and I have learned just what I’m capable of, so instead of talking about him, let’s talk about something much more important—my album,” I joke, and others laugh. “No, let’s talk about the Vinette Wilson Fund.” I glance at Raff who nods. They helped me start this. “Vinette Wilson was a ballerina when I was a child, and one night, she was attacked in a place where she was supposed to be safe, so for every silenced woman out there, for those still suffering days or years after an attack, I’m starting this fund. It’s a safe haven, without questions or judgment, just survivors and understanding. If it’s been a day, a year, or fifty, anyone is welcome to come and share their story, if they wish, or just find some peace like she offered me. Please keep the men who saved my life and their families in your thoughts and prayers and give them the privacy they need to grieve what has been lost. Thank you.”
I wave as I walk off stage, my men with me.
The press might never know who they truly are to me, but that doesn’t matter to me or them.
We know what we have, and I’ll protect that until the end.
My very own family.
* * *
“Where are we going?” Vin grumbles. “I can’t believe you kidnapped me. You told me we were going to dinner, and that was over three hundred miles ago.”
“Shh.” I tug her after me. “Breathe, Vin, remember to breathe.” I pull her blindfold up, keeping her hand in mine as I move to the side. She gasps. “The original stage burned down with the building, but it has been rebuilt.” I glance at her as she stares out at the empty seats of the theater she was meant to perform in all those years ago. Vin gave me my dream back, and I want to give her hers. “I want you to reclaim your legacy on it—not for a crowd or for him, but for you. One last dance, Vinette Wilson, and I would be honored to be your audience. I don’t want you to have any regrets, not even at the end.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” she whispers. “I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a weak old lady—”
“You are a wise woman. Close your eyes, Vin, and feel the music. Take yourself back and give into that passion one last time. Follow your dream.” The guys start the music for me when I step back, and I cover my heart as I wait.
She turns to me, her eyes red, but when the music flows, I see the years melt away. She’s unsure at first, but she closes her eyes and feels it, and slowly, her hand starts to move. I cover my mouth, watching as she lets go.
She moves gracefully across the stage, twirling and dancing, but it isn’t the beauty in her dance that makes me grin widely—it’s the smile of pure happiness that curves her lips.
It’s the smile of a dreamer.
Taking my guitar from Dal, I sit and start to sing as the music slows. She stumbles and whirls to face me, but I just grin, and when there’s a break in the lyrics I wrote, I nod and continue singing.
She’s unsure, but this song’s just for her.
It’s slow and filled with love, heartache, pain, joy, and regrets, and there are ups and downs, just like with life. It’s Vin’s song and always will be.
