Page 69 of Hayden's Stalker

“Not great,” she says in a strange voice.

I cringe. “Was he angry?”

Tatiana frowns and shakes her head.

This doesn’t tell me anything, so I ask, “Are you sleeping on the sofa?”

She doesn’t answer, but she sighs and walks over to me. Her flowery scent reaches me before she does, and she takes a seat on the sofa next to me. My heart races as I look into her beautiful face, but there’s a strange look behind her eyes.

“Hayden, where I sleep shouldn’t be important to you,” she says.

Heat rushes to my cheeks because I feel like an idiot. It really shouldn’t. She’s my employee and nothing more.

Before I can say anything, she continues, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly touched that you had a room made for me on the bus, but it shouldn’t have happened. You should be focusing on your tour, and I should be focusing on your safety. I shouldn’t warrant even a second thought from you, let alone an entire rework of your tour bus’s interior to accommodate me.”

She’s right, of course. None of this should have happened. Even though I’m breaking up with Blake, it shouldn’t have happened while I’m still with him, and I definitely should never have forgotten Jesse existed to the point where I could make such a massive mistake with the bus.

“That makes sense. I really am sorry. I don’t want to care as much about you as I do, if that helps?” I say, half-joking but also with my heart pounding away in my chest at a mile a minute because it’s so true.

“Why do you care about me so much?” she asks quietly.

A part of me wants to chicken out on this conversation, too. I want to lie to her and pretend like it’s just because she’s keeping me safe. At the same time, from everything I’ve told her about Blake, I would’ve expected she could guess.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” I tell her honestly.

I look into her clear blue eyes as she frowns back at me, and I know I’m enjoying this way too much. An intense sadness that I can’t be with this woman overwhelms me. She really is everything that I want in a woman, but we have this professional relationship where I’m technically her employer.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” She shakes her head.

I flop back on the sofa to stare at the room in front of us. Following the pattern of the familiar Cruise Control symbol onmy bass drum with my eyes as I consider just how honest I should be.

I rest my head against the back of the sofa and close my eyes as I sigh. I know that I’m going to tell her everything, not because she asked, but because I want to.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend in years,” I inform her, even though she probably already knows since she’s clearly done a background check on me.

“You have a boyfriend, though? Is this some bisexual thing where you miss women or something?”

Oof. Gotta love that stereotype.

I snort in response and shake my head at her as I continue what I’m saying, “I’m going to ignore the casual biphobia, Tati. Girlfriend, boyfriend, it doesn’t matter. Blake is my boyfriend, but it’s not the same.”

I know I’m not getting this across properly, and I frown as I consider how to express what I’m trying to say.

“Before him, I had a woman who was something like a girlfriend, but not really. She lived in New York, I was here. We had no strings.”

As much as I liked Ally, I was never in love with her, and while I wanted more, I didn’t want to truly be with her.

I shake my head and tell Tati, “Blake was before her, as well. Prior to the first time I dated Blake, I had a girlfriend for a year. That was the last time I felt connected to someone.”

Tati’s beautiful face is composed into a frown as she says, “I don’t understand. Blake is your boyfriend, but you don’t feel connected to him? What does that have to do with me?”

I know I’m going to sound like a douchebag, and I cringe internally as I reply. “Allow me to play the poor, little rock star for a moment. It’s harder than you’d think to meet people who aren’t interested in your fame or money. Blake has plenty of money, but I don’t fool myself into thinking he doesn’t likebeing seen with me a little too much. Ally was nice, and we had a lot of fun together, but she was always clear that we couldn’t be anything more. She met someone in New York, and we were done. I got lonely, so I messaged Blake.”

I sigh and stop talking. A huge part of me regrets that choice. I know why I did it. I was sad and lonely. All my friends were happy in their relationships, and that’s basically all I’ve ever wanted. So I messaged Blake just to talk. If I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be faced with needing to break up with him tonight.

“I meant what I said the other day. I know he treats me like shit. Both times, it started well with Blake. He can be very sweet and loving, and he can make me feel special when he wants to. But he changed over time, and it didn’t take long before I felt like I didn’t deserve any better than the way he treats me.”

Now I’ve reached the point I’m trying to make, and I’m intensely curious to see her response to it. As terrifying as it is to admit all of this to her, I also have a deepneedto tell her this truth.

---