Page 23 of Love JD

“Ish.”

That woke me up. “What happened?”

“Well, the good news is that the reporters don’t care who you’re dating anymore.”

I squinted one eye and slowly asked, “Why?”

“Because bad news, they like pictures of Isla fainting better.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, standing. “Is Isla okay? Was she hurt?”

“She’s fine, but they scared her shitless. One of the news outlets hired someone to snatch my phone and make a run for it. He was fucking fast, and my chasing him gave the reporters plenty of time to scare Isla so badly, she fainted on the spot. She was waiting for me alone in a parking lot.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, and unease writhed around inside of me. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

“I mean, I don’t know—she kept saying she faints all the time. But I don’t know what kind of pictures they managed to get. She walked home because she insisted she could handle herself, but they had her pretty jacked up and shaking.”

I paced. “Do we know who the reporters were? Who got the pictures?”

“We won’t know until tomorrow,” she said, and I heard the shrug in her voice.

“Cock-juggling asshats,” I muttered.

“Colorful. You know what this means?”

I folded my acupressure mat as my mind sprinted away from me with images of Isla fainting on her own in the dark. “You want a raise?”

“Sure as shit, I do, but no. She needs more than one shadow, Zev. They’ve tasted blood, and the prospect of getting Isla to faint in public is going to send them all into a frenzy.”

I exhaled, agitated and restless. “I need to mull this over. How does Isla feel about you staying over there in her house?”

“I already asked, and she was not cool with it. Actually, scratch that, you need to talk to her about this whole thing. She keeps ditching me.” I could hear her chewing, and I assumed she had gone for food after what sounded like a hellish night.

“Ditching you?” I scowled. “How often? Why?”

“Every day,” she answered, still chewing, “and fuck if I know.”

I kneaded a sudden pain between my eyes with my fingers. “For someone who seems so smart, she really makes some questionable decisions.”

“You want my opinion on that?” Tabitha asked, and something crunched in my ear.

I pulled the phone away and glared at it before replacing it. “Sure.”

“She got a crappy deal in the body department, you know? If I want to go jump off a cliff into a lake, I get to decide if I want to run fast, hurl my fit and fab body off the cliff, and swim away to safety. Your girl doesn’t get to do that. She’ll probably pass out before she gets three feet away.”

I rubbed my jaw, shuffling across the rustic cottage bedroom to the adjoining bathroom. “Um, okay.”

“So, I’m saying,” Tabitha went on, “that she takes control when she can. Like, literally when she can and not when it’s smart.”

“Ah,” I flipped on the light and a row of bright lights above my mirror blinked to life. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, at the beard I trimmed every morning and the long hair that probably needed a haircut. I looked at my body that I got to make choices about—I could go to the gym or not. I could drink or not. I could go for a hike or not. Isla didn’t get to decide any of those things. “I’m hearing you,” I said. “But we need to find a way to make sure she understands that she’s a target now.”

“Good luck,” Tabitha said unhelpfully. “Even after they essentially assaulted her, she’s adamant that she wants me to give her space.”

“That defies logic,” I argued. I ran a hand through my thick hair. “She has to see that she needs help with this.”

Tabitha snorted. “I don’t think you’re going to win that argument. I’ll tail her tomorrow if she leaves, but she seemed pretty spooked. I’d be surprised if she went anywhere for a couple days.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess I’ll… check in with her. Maybe tell her the truth about who hired you.”

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