Page 22 of Saving the Rockstar

Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed his hand. Laced our fingers together and squeezed, offering wordless comfort.

Jared glanced down at our joined hands, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment I thought he might pull away.

But he just squeezed back, shooting me a grateful little smile. "Anyway. I've got my chosen family now. My Marine buddies, a few close friends. That's enough for me."

"I get that," I said quietly. "Sometimes the family you choose is better than the one you're born into."

"Damn straight." Jared's grip tightened fractionally. "Blood doesn't mean shit if they don't have your back when it counts."

"Amen to that." I raised my beer bottle in a wry toast. Jared clinked his against it obligingly.

As the night wore on and the conversation wound down, we retreated to our bed. But then, in the middle of the night, a faint murmur pulled me from my dream. I squinted into the dimness of the room, trying to place the sound.

There. The glint of moonlight on dark hair, the shadowed curve of a broad shoulder. Jared was standing out on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear.

I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop. Knew it was a violation of the fragile intimacy we'd built. But I couldn't seem to stop myself from straining to hear his low rumble of a voice.

"...don't know what to do, man," Jared was saying, frustration evident in his tone. "It's not like I planned on catching feelings."

My heart stuttered in my chest. Jared had feelings for someone?

Hope rose in my throat, dizzying and bright. But I tamped it down ruthlessly. Of course Jared didn't want me like that. Who would want a neurotic mess of a pop star with more baggage than an airport?

Chapter 8: Jared

The cool night air kissed my skin as I stood on the balcony. Inside, Asher slept soundly, exhausted from the day's emotional upheaval. But my own mind was far too restless for sleep.

I needed to talk to someone, needed to hear a voice of reason before I did something monumentally stupid. My phone was in my hand before I'd consciously given it the command, my thumb hovering over the contact I knew would give it to me straight. Would call me on my bullshit and snap me out of this fever dream.

It rang twice before the screen filled with Mason's scowling face, his eyes bleary and hair sticking up in all directions.

"Somebody better be dead or dying," he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Because if you're calling me at ass o'clock in the morning just to chat about the weather, I swear to God-"

"I think I'm falling for him," I blurted out, the words tripping over each other in their haste to escape. "I think I have a crush on Asher.”

There was a beat of stunned silence, Mason's jaw dropping open in almost comical shock. Then he was lurching upright, sheets falling away to reveal his bare chest as he gaped at me through the screen.

"I'm sorry, what?" he sputtered, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Did you just say you're falling for Asher? As in Asher Roth, your client?"

I winced, feeling my face heat even as a wry smile tugged at my lips. "That would be the one, yeah. I don't know what todo, man." I dragged a hand down my face. "It's not like I planned on catching feelings."

"Holy shit." Mason scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low whistle. "When did this happen?Howdid this happen?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my free hand coming up to rub at the back of my neck. "It's been building, I guess. For a while now."

Looking back, I could see all the little moments that had led me here, the breadcrumbs I'd been too blind or stubborn to acknowledge.

The way my heart had stuttered in my chest the first time I'd seen him sing. The overwhelming urge to gather him into my arms and never let go, to shield him from the world and all its cruelties with the strength of my own body. To be his shelter, his sanctuary, the one place he could fall apart without fear of judgement.

It had been there from the beginning, this thing between us. I'd just been too stubborn, too rigid in my thinking, to see it for what it was.

Asher had carved out a space for himself in my heart. And now that he was there, I didn't know how to evict him. Didn't know if I wanted to, even if I could.

"I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind, Mason. Like I'm coming out of my skin every time he's near me."

"Well, yeah. That's kind of how it works when you've got it bad for someone." Mason's voice was gentle, understanding. "Especially when that someone is off-limits, for all sorts of complicated reasons."

I huffed out a humorless laugh, my grip tightening around the phone. "Right. Because he's my client, and I'm supposed to be protecting him, not fantasizing about throwing him down on the nearest flat surface and having my wicked way with him."

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