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“What’s there to talk about?” she asked. “I’m not going to turn my life upside down just because some guy somewhere is unstable.” She took something off a hanger and started rummaging through a drawer.
“He’s dangerous,” Asa said, his frown deepening and his heart getting heavy in his chest.
She snorted. “They’re always dangerous.”
Asa blinked, taken aback by her casual remark. How many times had she been in this position? How many stalkers were never addressed in the media? How many were smart enough not to have been noticed yet?
The idea of her being in danger was a thick fog that cloaked all his previous confidence. No amount of anxiety medication and therapy would make her safe from afucking stalker.
His mind raced with horrible possibilities. Selena, John Lennon, Dimebag Darrell, Christina Grimmie…all killed by fans.
Suddenly their little bubble seemed more fragile than ever.
She set a pair of black panties and a matching bra on top of the first piece of clothing. Then she took a pair of jeans out of a different drawer and set those aside as well.
Not waiting for him to turn around, she dropped the towel. He beheld her glorious naked body for a moment before averting his gaze and turning around. Was she trying to distract him? If so, well played. His mind scrambled to remember what it was he’d been about to say.
“Maybe just temporarily,” he suggested. “Until they find the guy.”
“Then they’ll be another threat. It never ends.” She hummed a melody they had been working on yesterday. “Do you think you could distort a tornado siren? Like make it kind of sad sounding and slowed down? I was thinking about how to open ‘Runaway Soul’ and I keep coming back to like a whiny, ominous like…” She made the noise best she could.
Adorable as usual.
He squeezed his hands into fists in response to the swift subject change. “Zara?—”
“Then fade it out and back in at the end? I think that might be cool. Can we try it when we get to the studio?” She moved past him, fully dressed, and went back to the bathroom.
He followed.
She hung up her towel and then removed the one around her hair. Her eyes met his in the mirror.
There was something there… something she wasn’t saying.
“Can we please talk about it?” he asked, trying again. Because he’d always try again. As many times as he had to. For her. Forever.
She sighed and turned around. “Okay,” she relented. “Let’s talk about it.”
He breathed a short sigh of relief. “Is there a reason you won’t consider moving? Even if it’s temporary?”
Her lips twisted to the side. “Because I like it here. I like living here with you. No one knows I’m in Chicago so there’s no reason to start panicking just because the police are looking for someone a thousand miles away.”
“But what if someone finds out you’re here?” he asked.
She shrugged. “There’s always a what-if. I don’t want you to think I’m not taking it seriously. I am. I do.” She blinked rapidly as her eyes glossed over. “Shit.” She swiped at her eyes.
He stepped toward her and grabbed her gently by her shoulders. “What’s going on?” he asked softly.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them he could finally see all the turmoil, the hesitation, the doubt and worry and responsibility she felt.
“I hate this part,” she said. “I don’t talk about it because I know it comes with the life and there’s nothing anyone can do to change it. It’s just one more reason that being with me is an impossible ask.”
He wanted to correct her but waited because it felt like she wasn’t done.
“I just don’t want to talk about all the ways I’ve prepared for the worst possible thing to happen.” She shrugged. “It’s not fun or sexy to go into detail about all the med kits I have in nearly every room of every place I stay. And I really hate talking about how I’ve taken Tactical Emergency Casualty Care Trainingmultipletimes so I can be prepared for a variety of horrible scenarios such as gunshots or stabbings to myself or the people around me. In fact, all of the people who work for me are required to take it.” Her eyes drifted to the side.
“I don’t like to talk about how many times I’ve participated in an active shooter simulation. Or how I’ve never made it through one without crying even though I know it’s not real. Itcouldbe real someday and that terrifies me. And all of it might not even matter. None of it is guaranteed to save my life if someone is that determined to hurt me.”
While she spoke his entire world view crumbled at his feet.
