Page 83 of Saving the Rockstar

The room erupted in a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes, but I barely noticed. My gaze was fixed on the back of the room, on the figure standing still and silent in the shadows.

Jared. He was here. He had come.

I felt my heart stutter in my chest. And then, before I could second-guess myself, I was stepping out from behind the podium, moving towards him with purposeful strides.

The crowd parted before me like the Red Sea, reporters and cameras jostling for position. But I only had eyes for Jared, for the way he was looking at me, his gaze soft and wondering and so full of love.

I reached him in a matter of moments, my hands coming up to frame his face. "Jared," I whispered, my voice cracking on his name. "I'm so, so sorry."

He shook his head, his own hands coming up to cover mine. "Asher," he breathed, and oh, the way he said my name, like a prayer, like a promise. "You have nothing to apologize for. I understand, baby. I understand."

I let out a shuddering breath, pressing my forehead to his. "I love you," I said, the words tumbling out of me in a rush.

He kissed me then, soft and sweet and impossibly tender. "I love you too," he murmured against my lips. "Always, Ash."

I melted into him, into the warmth and strength of his embrace. Dimly, I was aware of the crowd around us, of the cameras flashing and the reporters shouting.

But in that moment, wrapped in Jared's arms, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was him.

Chapter 26: Jared

As Asher's words washed over me, as the truth of his love, his commitment, sank into my bones, I felt something in my chest crack open. All the pain, all the doubt, all the fear that had been festering there, poison in my veins, seemed to melt away in the face of his unwavering devotion.

I pulled him closer, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like home, like everything I had ever wanted.

From somewhere in the crowd, I heard a familiar whistle, followed by the sharp crack of applause. Dylan, of course. Cheering us on, as he always had. As he always would.

Asher pulled back, just far enough to meet my gaze. His eyes were shining, bright with unshed tears and so much love.

"I meant it, Jared," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Every word."

"I know. And I'm so proud of you for doing this."

He smiled then, soft and sweet, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. Then, with a deep breath, he turned to face the crowd once more, his hand finding mine and tangling our fingers together.

"I know I've made mistakes," he said, his voice carrying across the murmuring sea of reporters. "But I'm ready to use my platform, my voice, to promote understanding, acceptance. To show the world that love is love, no matter what form it takes."

The crowd erupted in a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes, but Asher didn't flinch. He stood tall and proud, his grip on my hand never wavering.

And then, from the front row, a voice rang out, sharp and cruel. "Asher! How do you respond to rumors that this is all just a publicity stunt? That you're using your relationship with your bodyguard to boost ticket sales?"

I felt Asher tense beside me, saw the flicker of hurt, of doubt, that crossed his face. But before he could respond, I was stepping forward, my own voice ringing out clear and strong.

"Our love is not a stunt," I said, my gaze locking with the aggressive paparazzo. "It's not a trick, or a marketing scheme. It's real, it's powerful, and it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Asher's breath hitched, his eyes shining with emotion. And then he was surging forward, capturing my lips in another kiss that was both tender and fierce.

The crowd went wild, cheers and applause ringing out from every corner. But I barely noticed, too lost in the taste of Asher's mouth, the feel of his body pressed against mine.

This was what I had been missing, what I had been aching for. This perfect, shining moment of publicly showing our love and acceptance.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us flushed and grinning like idiots, the conference was winding down. Reporters were packing up their cameras and notepads, the murmur of conversation growing louder as people began to drift towards the exits.

And then, suddenly, Dylan was there, Mason at his side. He threw his arms around us both, pulling us into a tight, exuberant hug.

"Did you see how amazing you two were up there?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you guys.And just for the record, I totally played a big part in making this happen. Y'all owe me, big time."

Asher laughed, bright and joyful, and squeezed Dylan tighter. "We do, Dyl. Thank you."

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