Page 220 of Haunt Me

The preorders for the new album are skyrocketing, which is so weird to me. Why are people buying this stuff without having heard it? What if it’s crap?

I mean, I know it isn’t. It’s the best thing I’ve ever created. Every song on that album is a piece of my soul and Eden’s intertwined. But people don’t know this—and I hope they never find out. The idea of Eden being stalked and hunted by crazy fans just fills me with a panic so great it immobilizes me.

Skye assures me time and time again that it won’t happen.

He’s taken every precaution. We have credited her under a pseudonym in the songs; it won’t happen.

My new ‘Isaiah’ site keeps crashing once or twice every single day because of the millions of people entering it every minute.

“I’m scared, Skye,” I tell him for the thousandth time.

“Nothing will happen, Zay,” he reassures me, also for the thousandth time. “I’m on it. You have the best people in the industry on your team.”

I close my eyes.Please let him be right.

Please don’t let me destroy us.

…

Eden’s nightmares come less often, but they still come. And I’m not there to chase them away. She’s all alone.

“You worry too much for me, Zay,” Eden tells me the day after the second Milan night. We are well into February now.

“There are dark circles under your eyes,” I reply, but no sound comes out.

“What?” Eden leans so close to her phone I can see nothing but a pair of pink lips—the image is clear enough to make a lesser man lose his mind.

It’s me, I’m the lesser man.

I open my mouth, but I can’t speak; I’ve completely lost my voice after the last show.

Dark circles, I type.

“Why thank you,” she replies, laughing, but there’s something off with her smile. “I have been pulling all-nighters, so that’s the look of the day.”

You are beautiful, I type.Are you ok?

“I miss you,” she says and the look on her face makes my heart ache.

Can I come over?

“What do you mean? What’s ‘come over’?”

I want to be with you. I’m on break, I can stay for a couple of days.

“You just said that as if I’m not a literal ocean away,” she laughs awkwardly, and that laugh tells me everything I need to know.

I’m already texting my assistant.

In less than fourteen hours, my plane lands in Cambridge. Boston is exactly as I left it: cold, gray, and absolutely beautiful. And speaking of absolutely beautiful, I head straight for Eden’s dorm room.

“Baby,” I croak when she opens her door, hair in a messy bun, glasses on, sweats hanging off her slim frame. I don’t think I have ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.

Still, this is a different girl than the one I said goodbye to in New York. The radiant joy is gone from her face. Eden doesn’t say anything; she looks like she’s about to cry. Sudden fear grips me and I fold her in my arms, crushing her against me. I can feel the bones poking out her back. She’s lost weight.Dammit.

“Are you ok?” I ask her, before I can help myself.

“You… you came all this way?” she asks. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to do this. You shouldn’t be so worried about me that you’re flying to the States in the middle of a strenuous sold-out stadium tour.”

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