Page 51 of Saving the Rockstar

"Jared, I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words. "I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what the PR team, the label, will want me to say in my public statement. They'll have a narrative, a way to spin this that protects their interests, their bottom line."

He swallowed hard, his grip on my hand tightening as if he were afraid to let go. "I think we need to be careful, for now.Keep things under wraps, until we know what the official story is going to be."

I felt my heart sink, a leaden weight settling in my chest at the thought of hiding, of pretending, of denying the truth of what we meant to each other.

"So, what are you saying?" I asked, my voice low and rough with emotion. "That you want to keep us, a secret?"

Asher closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "Just for a little while," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart.

"And what about you, Ash?" I asked softly, my thumb brushing away the moisture from his skin. "What do you want to say? What do you want your statement to be?"

He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that made my chest ache with sorrow.

"What I want doesn't matter," he said, his voice flat and lifeless. "I'm not a person anymore. I'm a product, a commodity. Something to be marketed and sold and consumed by the masses."

He pulled away from me then, his hands coming up to rake through his hair in a gesture of helpless frustration.

"When I first started out, when I was just a kid with a guitar and a dream, I thought I could change the world with my music. I thought I could sing about the things that mattered to me, the things that kept me up at night. Love, and loss, and the search for meaning in a world that often feels so cold and empty."

He shook his head, a mirthless smile twisting his lips.

"But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that. I became a brand, a carefully crafted image designed to sellrecords and tickets and merch. And now, I don't know how to reconcile the two. The artist and the product. The man and the mask."

I stepped forward, my arms coming up to wrap around him, to pull him close against the solid warmth of my chest.

"You don't have to do it alone," I murmured, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

As he clung to me, his body shaking with silent sobs, I knew that I meant every word. That I would stand by his side. Because in the end, that was what love was all about. Not the grand gestures or the sweeping declarations, but the quiet, steady presence of someone who saw you, all of you, and chose to stay.

Chapter 17: Asher

Watching Jared take charge of the operation to bring down Carter was like seeing a whole new side of him, a side that I found both impressive and hot.

Gone was the gentle, soft-spoken man who had held me in his arms and whispered words of comfort in my ear. In his place was a fierce, determined warrior, his eyes blazing with fire.

He worked tirelessly, coordinating with the private investigator and poring over every scrap of evidence they uncovered. And as the pieces began to fall into place, as the full extent of Carter's manipulation and abuse came to light, I could see the rage building in Jared's eyes, the righteous anger that burned like a white-hot flame.

"That sick son of a bitch," he growled, his fists clenching at his sides as he stared at the files spread out before him. "He's been doing this for years, Ash. Preying on vulnerable young artists, twisting their minds and breaking their spirits. It's not just you he's hurt. There are others, so many others."

I felt my stomach churn at the thought, my heart aching for the nameless, faceless victims who had suffered under Carter's thumb, just as I had.

"We have to be smart about this. We need evidence, proof of his crimes that will stand up in court."

I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities. And then, with a sudden clarity that sent a chill down my spine, I knew what I had to do.

"I'll meet with him," I said. "I'll pretend to negotiate his demands, to consider his offer of working together again.And while I keep him talking, you and the team can record everything, gather the evidence we need to take him down."

Jared's eyes widened, his expression torn between admiration and fear.

"Ash, no. It's too dangerous. I can't let you put yourself in that position, not after everything he's done to you."

But I shook my head, my resolve hardening with every passing second.

"I have to do this. For myself, and for every other artist he's ever hurt. I'm the only one who can get close enough, who can keep him talking long enough to get what we need."

Jared hesitated for a long moment. "Okay," he said at last. "But we do this my way. We take every precaution, every safety measure. And if at any point you feel like you're in danger, you give the signal and we'll be there in seconds. Promise me."

The meeting was set up in a hotel room. Jared and his team had rigged the room with hidden cameras and microphones, every angle covered and every word captured.

---