Page 47 of Damsel in Defense
Text after text floods in.My stomach flips.Dread creeps up my spine.
Mason’s already searching for the source.He pulls up one of the gossip accounts on Instagram, and his jaw tightens instantly.
“Vic—don’t.”
But I’m already reaching for my phone, already searching my name.
There it is.
A picture, grainy but unmistakably me.
I’m crouched by the arena’s exit doors with my hoodie up.My face looks pale, and my eyes are wide and have a dazed look about them.One arm is braced on the wall, and the other is up by my ear, hidden by my hair and the hoodie.
VICTORIA WESTWYLD RELAPSES AGAIN.Country Star Seen in Distress After Nighthawks Game.Drunken Diva or Something Darker?
The captions make my stomach churn.
“That wasn’t—” I choke on the words.“What the hell is happening?That’s not what happened at all.That’s the outfit I wore to the team charity event.I bought that sweater when you were teaching drills and took a call from my brother.Nothing happened.I was fine that day—I didn’t have an anxiety attack.I swear I—”
“I know,” Mason says quickly, sitting up and pulling me into his lap.“Iknow that.But these vultures?They’re gonna twist anything for clicks.”
My breath trembles as I clutch his arms.“Why do they keep catching me like this?How are they always there?Alwayswatching?”
He presses a kiss to my temple, his voice low and firm.“You’re a threat, honey.You’re rising too fast, you’re too talented, and you’re withme.That makes you prime meat for tabloid drama.But we’ll get through this.Okay?”
I nod, but shame bubbles in my throat anyway.I hate this.Hate how exposed I feel.How even in moments ofquiet, the outside world finds a way to blast through.
I tip my head up to his, needing his touch.Seconds later, his lips are on mine.
Soft at first, then firmer, coaxing.My hands slide into his hair, needing the distraction, needinghim.He pulls me down into the mattress with him, and for a while, the world fades away.
His kisses chase away the headlines.The lies.And the doubt.
When we finally pull apart, breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.“Stay in bed with me all day.”
I wish we could.
But a soft ping draws our attention back to reality.
I don’t want to look, but I also don’t want to miss a text or call from Cece.She’s probably reeling just as much as I am.Reaching for my phone, I see a text from an unknown number sits at the top of my screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:Hey Victoria, it’s Neil from the studio.I found one of your song writing notebooks in a practice room.Thought you might want it back.Swing by today if you can—leaving early at 3.
“Oh my God.”I sit up straight.“My notebook.”
Mason frowns.“What notebook?There are like four on the kitchen island.”
“No, mynewsongwriting notebook.I started a new one last week since the words are flowing now, but I couldn’t find it yesterday.I thought I left it with the others since that’s where I woke in the mornings, but it must’ve fallen out at the studio when I was working on those last vocals.”
“Do you need it right now?”Mason asks, hands dancing over the bare skin of my arm.
“No,” I draw out, my eyes going to the time.“But we slept in, and it’s almost noon.I have no idea who Neil is, but I’d feel better with my notebook back in my possession.”
I’m already moving toward the closet, grabbing jeans.
“I’ll drive with you,” Mason says, starting to swing out of bed.
“No,” I say quickly.“You rest.Plus, don’t you have a trainer coming over this afternoon or something?”
