Page 35 of Protector

With a hand on his hip, he stares at the ground, shaking his head. “And what if Sam finds this place, finds you? I won’t be responsible for—”

I scoff. “Don’t worry about your reputation, Brooks. This is my decision.”

His eyes plead with me. “That’s not what I meant. You know I care about you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. How can I protect you if you start pushing me away?”

I fold my arms and glare at him. “Interesting choice of words…” I can practically feel his hands pressing me back last night.

His nostrils flare as he stares back wordlessly. I can’t help but think he’s debating how to respond—the way he wants to or the way he thinks he has to. Finally, he says, “It’s not the same, and you know it. Stop acting like—”

“A child?” I cut him off, sarcastically. “I need to get ready, Brooks. I’ll check in with you later.” Turning my back on him, I feel a splinter of hope in my chest that he’ll fight me on this, follow me into the kitchen and take me into his arms, tell me we’ll figure this out together. But all I hear is the door slamming.

* * *

What was so painfully quiet only hours ago is now bustling with a camera crew, makeup and wardrobe people, and a few models and industry people who are part of today’s shoot. Catherine stands off to the side, the support I don’t know what I’d do without.

I didn’t fight the producer’s request to have Rio here; I didn’t have the energy. In truth he is part of my “reality,” so if they think he’ll draw in more viewers, then I’m fine with that, at least for now. I won’t even acknowledge the childish part of me that hopes Brooks sees me with Rio and gets jealous.

Billy waves me over to the door, where I’m sure he’s ready to make his exit.

“You’re going?” I give him a hug, and he kisses my hair so not to mess up my makeup.

“Yes, love. I’d stay longer, but my mum is having outpatient surgery today.”

I draw in a quick breath. “Billy, why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t need to be here.” I run my hand down his arm. “Is she going to be okay?”

He slips a cigarette into his mouth and smiles around it. “She’s getting her eyelids done, doll. But I’ll send her your regards.”

I laugh and open the door for him, but he turns when he steps out. “Talk to Catherine before they start shooting you.”

I furrow my brow. “Is there something I need to know?”

“It’s nothing like that.” He pulls the unlit cigarette out and uses it as a pointer, drawing an imaginary circle in front of me. “You’re not the Shay viewers need to see. Have a chat with Cat, love. She’ll fix you up good.”

Shaking my head, I watch him go, wondering what he’s talking about. As I make my way back inside and scan the room for Catherine, I realize he’s right. I’m not motivated or excited…like I told the producers I was about this project. I spot Catherine going down the hall toward my bedroom and rush after her. I can’t let what happened with Brooks ruin this, so I clasp her wrist and drag her inside.

We sit on my bed, and I turn my body toward her. “Billy says I need to talk to you before we do any shooting.”

She grins and touches my knee. “Do you think we need to talk?”

I nod, feeling like a child, but I don’t care. She and Cal are the only ones I ever confide in, and he’s not here.

“Are you having second thoughts about the show?”

“No,” I say adamantly. “Well, I’m a little nervous, and I wish Taylor was here for the initial stuff, but I’m good.”

“You know you’ll be filming more without her than with her.”

“I know.” I blow out a breath and look away. “I’m sorry, Catherine, none of this is about the show. It’s about…Brooks.”

She’s quiet a few beats, so I turn to look at her, suddenly having second thoughts about this talk. “This whole thing is just becoming so overwhelming.”

Catherine shoots me a tight smile and nods. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could do more to help, but I truly believe Brooks will keep you safe. You trust him, don’t you?”

“Of course.” My words come out fast, and her eyes widen, so I look toward the door. “This is so stupid. I’m being an idiot, and I should just go and do the work.” I turn back to her and smile. “I’m ready.”

I start to get up, but she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Not so fast. Since when have you been shy about telling me stuff?”

“What do you mean?” I say softly, though I’m sure I know.

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