Page 99 of Fame and Obsession

“Pheebs, if you want, I can call Julian and have him—”

“No!” I shout, forcefully gripping the rails of the bed.

“What do you mean, no? You sure as hell didn’t make this baby by yourself.”

“No,” I repeat, looking away. “No one is calling Julian or anyone connected to him. He’ll know nothing of what happened. Especially not about the baby.”

“Phoebe, come on,” Gage argues, smacking the bedrail. “That’s not fair! He deserves to know.”

No, he deserves to be safe. We all do…

I let out a labored sigh. “Gage, think about it… Why do you think I was attacked in my own home?”

He’s quiet for a few moments and then his eyes widen. “You think his wackjob stalker did this?”

“I don’t think; I know. Helena warned me that writing the article would cause her to come after me, and she was right.” I grab his hand. “Don’t you see? I caused this. I provoked her, and she retaliated.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with him being your new baby daddy?” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

“It has everything to do with him. Look what she did to me for just being with him. What do you think she’d do if she knew I was having his baby?” I watch his jaw tighten. “Exactly. The only way I can protect all of us is by staying away from him.”

“I don’t like this, Pheebs.”

“You know he wouldn’t stay away if he knew, even if it was out of obligation.” My breath catches. “This isn’t just about Julian and me anymore. I have someone else to protect. You have to let me do it the only way I know how.”

“Fuck, Pheebs…” He blows out a resigned breath.

“Yeah.” I laugh quietly. “Fucked pretty much covers it.

After a long pause, Gage squeezes my hand again. “I know you don’t want to think about this, but are you going to be all right to go back to the apartment? I mean, some pretty bad shit went down there. No one would blame you if you couldn’t handle it.”

I honestly haven’t stopped to consider it.

Is the fear strong enough to give up everything I’ve built and return to the life I’d run from? The answer doesn’t take long to figure out.

When you have two monsters trying to take your life, you choose to fight the one most easily defeated—the one who doesn’t know your every weakness.

“I’m not running anymore,” I tell him. “Besides, where the hell would I go? It’s not like either one of us has family here. We have no one but each other, and we live together. No,” I steel my jaw. “We’ll go home. I’ll be damned if that bitch will run me from my own home. But she’ll never catch me unguarded again.”

He kisses my cheek. “I promise, you’ll never be alone again. I’m with you all the way…both of you. We’ve got this, you and me. I’ll take care of us. Ohana.”

Finally succumbing to all the upheaval and bombshells, I break down in his arms. “Ohana,” I sob.

Twenty-Seven

Julian

Two weeks without her and every day is like a fresh kick in the balls.

This must be what hell feels like.

I try to keep busy, but no matter where I go, something reminds me of her. I sing her song, and I want to hit someone. Every reporter wants to know if I’m still dating the Vinyl reporter who outed my stalker. Every time I smell coconut, my cock gets so hard I could chop trees with it.

Phoebe Ryan’s ghost won’t leave me the hell alone, and it’s starting to piss me off.

Sleep is the only time I’m granted any kind of reprieve. When my head hits the pillow, I give silent thanks to the makers of heavy window blinds and Vicodin. The sleep is always deep but far from restful.

When I wake up, the cycle starts all over again.

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