Page 133 of Be My Compass

He has a key.

I never took it back. He never offered.

I follow him inside and slam the door shut behind me.

Thirty

Kastle

When I found out about mom, the building, and the pictures, I plunged into a dark place. The hell I enter when the cameras are rolling and I’m expected to perform in a ‘realistic’ way. In a way that won’t upset fans. In a way that makes it seem like I’m perfect but flawed. That my family is dramatic but lovable.

I went to that place that day in my apartment and I didn’t like it.

I hated it.

I resented it.

Because, when I’m holding Kaelyn’s hand, I’m free from that place. The harsh lights can’t reach into my shadows. The make-up and the masks wash off and melt away.

That place always makes me feel hollow.

Less than human.

And this time it was worse. Because it was Kaelyn who led me there. Kaelyn who dragged me and shoved my head into the stench of ulterior motives and manipulation. Who pushed me and held me inside my own prison.

And I couldn’t get away from it. From that darkness.

She was supposed to be my hero. My refuge. My safe place.

She was supposed to be—

A fantasy.

In the car, I heard the hurt in her voice and it brought light.

I saw the frustration in her eyes and it brought clarity.

She made her mistakes, but I made my own. More than I care to admit. Kaelyn had shifted from a person to a thing—to a warm blanket, to safety, to the object that would point me to freedom.

I forgot that she was a complex woman with feelings. With flaws. With instincts. She had become a comfort to me, like a flame I kept to a low simmer for warmth, but all the while it was burning and building until it lashed out and destroyed.

What she said about Glory, what she did with the pictures… it wasn’t for me.

It was for her.

She fought for herself.

Kaelyn spent years and years holding back on my account. She silently suffocated by my side, watching while I jumped and grinned and danced when my strings were tugged, knowing that if she stepped out of line, she wouldn’t be able to shield me.

Then she snapped.

And rather than understand, I fell into that dark place without reaching for her. Without holding my hand to her the way she would have done for me.

“It’s your fault.” She glares at me. “It’s your fault too. Did I ask you to be my best friend? To be the most important man in my life? Did I ask you to take up so much space in my soul that when you hurt, I die?” She tosses a couch pillow at me. “You freaking bastard.”

“Kaelyn.” My voice tapers out softly. Gravely.

She stands next to the couch. Chest heaving. Eyes wild and bright. Her dark fingers dig into a pillow that she has yet to wield.

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