She’s still curled on her side when I return. I flick off the rest of the lights, plunging the room into total darkness. Helpless little noises pass her lips. Her body jerks, arms and legs twitching. Every tortured cry twists the thorns of guilt in my chest even tighter.
“Shhh.” I slip into bed and pull her body against mine. Gradually she relaxes, her breathing turning deep. “I’m right here, Shelby.”
I hope it’s enough to help her feel safe.
Chapter Nineteen
Shelby
Anxiety tingles through my chest.
I blink open my eyes and stare into the shadowy room.
Long curtains come into focus. Weak sunlight peeks around the edges.
A heavy presence behind me shifts.
My heart jumps, then settles when I recognize Rooster’s breathing. Something tickles over my shoulder. His heavy arm curls around my waist. I roll to my back, wincing as all my aches and pains wake with me. I must’ve slept in the same position all night and my body’s announcing its extreme displeasure.
“Morning.” Rooster’s gruff rumble greets me.
“You’re awake?”
“Mostly. It’s early, though. Get some more sleep.”
I stare up at the ceiling. How’d everything go from great to horrible so fast? My thoughts are too jumbled to sort and my eyelids slowly close.
The room’s brighter the next time I wake.
I roll to the side, coming face-to-face with Rooster’s warm chest and I burrow against it. He slides his arm around me, gently rubbing my back. His presence is such a sweet, stunning relief, and I snuggle closer.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Hurt.”
His hand stops moving and he rolls to his back.
“No, I—”
“Shelby, I’m so sorry.” The pain in Rooster’s voice cuts straight through me.
I pull away. “Don’t.” My voice quivers. “Please don’t apologize. You rescued me—”
“He never should’ve gotten his hands on you in the first place.” Regret clings to his words, filling the space between us. “That’s on me. It’ll haunt me until the day I die.”
I shift and sit up, resting my hand on his chest and staring into his troubled eyes. The hurt and remorse etched on his face releases the sorrow that’s stuck with me since waking in the hospital.
Logan’s always so stoic. Steady. Rock solid. Admitting any sort of weakness isn’t in his nature. But being honest and expressing his grief to me is more important than his pride. His admission heals some of the brokenness inside me.
And I need him to understand none of what happened is his fault.
“Logan, I never once blamed you.”
He opens his mouth—probably to argue with me—but I silence him with a finger against his lips. “Please, listen.”
When he nods, I move my hand from his mouth to his cheek. “You heard what I told Jackson. He…the guy…” I refuse to say my kidnapper’s name. “He told me he’d been stalking me for a while. Longer than we suspected. He originally planned to grab me earlier at a different show. You weren’t with me then.”
I blow out a long, shuddering breath. Between the numb moments, I’ve thought about this a lot. Considered all the possible scenarios. “The truth is, I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there the night he took me. If you hadn’t reacted as fast as you did—chasing down the van, getting the plate number—”
“Shelby.” His raw voice slices into my heart. “I was supposed to be protecting you. He never should’ve gotten so close. Never. That’s on me.”
“No. It’s not.” I put enough force in my voice to knock down his stubborn wall.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all. I let you down. I’m going to be furious about it for a long damn time.”
How do I get through to him? “What would’ve happened if he’d grabbed me the first time I ran into him? You think Greg or Trent would’ve gone to the lengths you did? They might have been upset but they wouldn’t have searched for me.”
He grunts in a noncommittal way.
“No one would’ve known where I was or who to look for. I would’ve been trapped in that…” my body shudders at the memory, “…cage for God only knows how long. No one would’ve known how to find me. I would’ve been lost. At the mercy of the police deciding if something had happened to me or if I’d skipped off the tour. If your club hadn’t conducted their own search, who knows how long it would’ve taken before anyone found me?”
Oh yes, I’ve thought long and hard about all the possible ways it could have turned out. Rooster’s the only person both relentless and capable enough to pursue me no matter what. “You’re the one who saved me.”
“I’m no savior, Shelby. Believe me.” His haunted voice ties me in knots.
“To me, you are.” I cup his cheek, forcing him to meet my eyes. “My white knight who’s always rescuing me.”
He tilts his head, kissing my inner wrist. “I don’t want to rescue you. I want to love you. I want you safe.”
“I’m safe with you.”
His jaw sets in a stubborn line. He wants to deny it. Blame himself more. But Logan’s an honorable man. He won’t pout and keep harping on it once I’ve said my piece. No, I’m worried he’ll store up his guilt and take it out on himself.
“Please, don’t do this,” I plead. “I love you. I’m so grateful to be here with you right now. You have no idea.”
“Come here.” He pulls me closer, gently wrapping his arms around me, and touches his forehead to mine. “I love you too. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not gonna flip out and do something stupid because I’m mad at myself.”
Geez, maybe we know each other a little too well.
A hint of a smile ghosts his lips. “Is that what you were thinking?”
“Not exactly. But close.”
His big hand cups my cheek, brushing loose strands of hair that escaped my braids out of his way. “This scared the hell out of me, Shelby. He won’t be the last. The more people who fall in love with your music, who think they’re in love with you, the greater the odds of another psycho thinking you’re destined to be together. I need to learn from this and do better for you. I won’t fuck up again.”
“You didn’t fuck up.” I press my finger to his lips to silence any response. “I hate hearing you say it, but I know you’re right—he won’t be the last. And Lord only knows what kind of kook it’ll be next time.”
“That’s my fear.”
“We’ll learn from this together. I’ll take every letter seriously. I won’t go off on my own without letting someone know. I’ll be more careful about my social media—”
“Stop. This wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m not saying it was. Trust me. Martin Suggs,” I spit out the name. “He’s the only one I hold responsible. But, I’m trying to be practical and honest here. If I want to keep growing my music career—and I do—then I need to take every threat seriously. What can I do to lower my risk without ruining my life?” I turn my head and brush my lips against his wrist. “It’s not all on you.”