Page 243 of Fame & Rhythm

Boots pounding across the grass.

I lift my head.

Aston.

Relief hits so hard it steals what little air I have left. He reaches me in seconds, dropping to his knees so abruptly the impact jars through the ground beneath us. His hands find my face first, frantic, searching, wiping the blood from my cheek before his eyes sweep over the rest of me, checking for injuries, for wounds, for proof that he’s not already too late.

“Baby…” His voice breaks so completely it barely sounds like him. “Jesus Christ… Annie.”

I stare at him through blurred vision.

He’s here.

He’s really here.

The nightmare is over.

Something inside me finally gives way, and a sob tears out of my chest so violently it hurts, weeks of fear and pain crashing through every crack I’d been desperately trying to hold together. My body folds toward him on instinct, and he catches me before I hit the ground, wrapping both arms around me so tightly it almost hurts.

I’ve never been so grateful for pain.

It means I’m alive.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against my hair, his own breathing as ragged as mine. His hands don’t stop moving, rubbing over my back, my shoulders, my face, as though he needs to convince himself I’m real. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Safe. The word feels impossible.

Like something that belongs to someone else.

I cling to him anyway, burying my face against his neck as the world around us erupts into shouting, footsteps, and voices calling orders I can’t quite understand.

None of it matters.

He’s here.

He came for me.

And somehow… somehow I’m still alive.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, his voice rough, almost unsteady. “I’ve got you.”

“I think I am,” I murmur. “There’s this little bird that won’t leave me alone. He’s kind of cute, though.” Dad’s eyes fill with tears as he looks at me, and something in my chest twists. “I’m okay, Dad. I didn’t have much, but the bugs…” I shudder slightly. “They were awful.”

He shakes his head, clearly trying to hold it together. “Even so, you’re going to the hospital.”

I glance down at my hand, really looking at it for the first time, and my stomach drops. My thumb sits at an unnatural angle, swollen, the bruising dark and angry against my skin.

“Shit, Annie,” Aston breathes, stepping in closer as he gently takes my hand, his expression tightening as he assesses the damage.

“It’s my guitar hand, Dad,” I say quietly.

“I know,” he replies immediately, his voice steady despite everything. “We’ll get it fixed. Don’t even think about it right now, okay?”

I nod, but the tears come anyway. Aston pulls me into him, and I sink against his chest, letting myself lean on him as voices drift around us. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m hearing, and when I look up, I notice the police are everywhere.

I hadn’t even seen them arrive.

My gaze shifts… and lands on her.