Page 18 of Saving the Rockstar

Bile seared the back of my throat, my empty stomach spasming like I might actually be sick. I swallowed hard against it, digging my nails into my palms, the bright shock of pain helping to clear the panicked static from my head.

"You..." I started, only to be cut off by a booming voice from behind Carter, laced with barely restrained fury.

"Hey, asshole!" Dylan shouldered his way through the throng with all the grace of a runaway train, his elbows carving a path to the front of the line. "Fancy seeing you here, slumming it with the common folk. Aren't you usually too busy making deals with Satan for a clear complexion to mingle with us lowly folk?"

Carter's jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at his temple. "Dylan," he gritted out, turning to face him with a thin veneer of civility. "Charming as ever, I see."

"And you're still a sentient pond scum who styles his hair with the tears of abused clients," Dylan shot back, not missing a beat. He planted himself firmly at my side, folding his arms over his chest. "Seriously, did your doctor up your dosage ofDiluted Evilagain? Is that why you're out in public subjecting innocent bystanders to your wholeAmerican Psychoschtick?"

I barked out a startled laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth a beat too late. Dylan cut me a lightning-quick wink, before schooling his features back into disdainful boredom.

Carter's nostrils flared, his mask slipping just a bit. "Still hiding behind the halfwit's sassy friend routine, I see," he sneered, eyes flicking dismissively over Dylan's spiky hair and ripped jeans. "What's the matter, Asher? Need your guard dog to fight your battles for you now that you're a big star?"

Jared, silent but watchful at my back, let out a low, sub-vocal growl. But Dylan was already stepping forward, getting right up in Carter's space with a sunny, shark-like grin.

"Nah, see, I prefer to think of myself as more of an attack chihuahua," he said brightly, head cocked like a bird. "Small but vicious, with a particular taste for saggy old ball sacks. And buddy, let me tell you..." He made a show of looking Carter up and down, nose wrinkling delicately. "If you were any more wrinkled, I'd need a tetanus shot after this conversation."

Someone in the crowd behind Carter let out a muffled snort, quickly covered by a cough.

"Asher, call off your boy toy before I have to get unpleasant," Carter said coldly, not taking his eyes off Dylan. "Wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"

I opened my mouth, but Dylan beat me to the punch, letting out a trilling laugh that was pure acid.

"Boy toy!" he crowed, clutching his chest. "Oh honey, I haven't been called that since my last review on Grindr. But hey, far be it from me to kink-shame. I'm sure you'd love to watch me and Ash bump. Probably get your wrinkly old rocks off imagining you were sticking it to him again, like the good old days when he was too young and dumb to recognize a pencil-dicked sociopath when he saw one."

Carter went white, then an alarming shade of red. I felt Jared tense against my back, coiled and ready to spring. But Icouldn't focus on that, couldn't focus on anything but the ragged gasps of breath.

It was too much, too close, the ugly truth of it laid out in the open like a rotting wound. The memories crashed over me in a fetid wave. All the times I'd let Carter manipulate me, use me, twist me up in knots until I didn't know which way was up. All the times I'd brushed off the unease, the creeping wrongness, telling myself it was normal, that he was just looking out for me, that I should be grateful for his attention, his guidance.

God, had he been the one to leak that photo? It would be just like him, to orchestrate something like that. To take twisted pleasure in watching me fall apart, knowing he was the one pulling the strings.

Now stumbling back from the autograph table, I mumbled something about needing air, about taking five. My legs carried me backstage on autopilot, past startled sound techs and wardrobe assistants, down the twisting hallway to my dressing room.

I slammed through the door and made it three steps before my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the thin, industrial carpet. I moved backwards until I hit the wall, knees drawn up to my chest, breath coming in thin, reedy gasps.

Distantly, over the thundering rush of blood in my ears, I heard the snick of the lock, the careful tread of boots. But I couldn't make myself look up, couldn't uncurl from the protective ball I'd wrapped myself in.

The footsteps came to a halt a careful distance away, the presence looming over me careful not to crowd, not to suffocate. When the voice came, it was low and measured, warm honey over gravel.

"Asher," Jared said softly, and I felt something in my chest crack open like an egg, spilling yolk all over my insides. "Ash, sweetheart. Can you look at me?"

The endearment, so at odds with his usual gruff professionalism, made fresh tears prick the backs of my eyes. I shook my head mutely, feeling absurdly childish but unable to face him like this. Wrecked and paralyzed, a shivering wreck at the feet of a man who'd seen me at my most unguarded, my most unforgivably vulnerable.

A man who was still here, still standing sentinel, despite knowing exactly how broken I was beneath the polish and sheen.

"Okay," he murmured, quiet acceptance in every syllable. "That's okay, Ash. We'll just sit here for a bit, alright? Just breathe with me."

And then he was moving, sinking down to sit cross-legged in front of me.

"I want you to focus on my breathing," he instructed, calm and assured. "Nice and slow, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Can you do that for me?"

I managed a jerky nod, trying to zero in on the steady rise and fall of his chest. To match my stuttering inhales to the rhythm of his own, even as every cell in my body screamed for me to bolt, to hide.

"That's it," he encouraged, as the roaring in my head slowly began to gentle. "Just like that. In and out. You're safe, I'm right here. He can't hurt you anymore."

A shuddery, wounded noise clawed its way out of my throat, my eyes squeezing shut against the hot press of tears. "You don't know that."

"I can," he countered, quiet but fierce. "I do. Because I won't let him, Asher. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. Not while I'm around."

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