Against my better judgment, I answer his call, my craving to hear his voice too strong to resist.
“What’s wrong?” he demands immediately.
Clearing my throat, I lie to him. For all the truths that he’s told me, I choose to lie to him. It’s for his benefit, but I still feel like a complete jerk for doing it. I tell him that I’m just tired and that I’m going to go to bed early to try and make up for the lost sleep since I have to work in the morning.
“Miss you, darlin’ girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low sexy rasp.
Smiling through my teary eyes, I whisper back to him. “I miss you too, Beaumont. Wish I could have stayed,” I admit.
His voice rumbles and I wait for his next words, knowing that they’re going to make me want to run to a plane and fly back to him, immediately.
“You could have.”
“Two weeks,” I remind him.
My eyes move toward the posters and I grimace at the sight of them. Whoever did this, they followed me somehow. They saw me at my most intimate and it makes me ill just thinking about the fact that they were watching me and Beaumont together.
This isn’t just some fan that took a picture and made a little money by selling it to the tabloids, this is something completely different, something sinister.
“Get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow when we’re stopped for the night. Brian and I are going to be working on a couple new songs.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
We end the call and I inhale a shaky breath. I debate calling the police, but decide against it. What are they going to do anyway? I don’t have any cameras that could have captured this person.
All I have are the posters with ugly words written on them, and a phone call that came from an unknown number. I’m not even sure any of it is really a crime. I bite the corner of my lip, trying to decide what I’m going to do.
Shaking my head, I reach across the floor and grab the posters. Without a second thought, I tear them in half. Then I tear that half in half, then again, and again, until my floor looks like it’s covered in confetti.
I don’t feel any better though.
I feel terrible. I feel sick to my stomach and all I want to do is stay locked inside of my bedroom, because there’s obviously a crazy person watching me.
Immediately, I think that it’s Chelle, or Rachelle as she introduced herself to me, but then how would she even know that I was in California over the weekend?
Staying on the floor, I don’t move, not for the rest of the night. I don’t sleep either, I can’t. If I do, then I know that someone is going to break into my house. Someone is watching me, after all.
This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life, because I know without a doubt that I will not sleep until I’m safe in Beaumont’s arms again.
BEAUMONT
Day after day, show after show.
Usually, I don’t feel like I’m in a hamster wheel until it’s nearing the end of a tour, not still in the beginning stages. But this entire tour is completely different from any other one that I’ve been on. Not just because I’m sober, but for a combination of reasons.
My phone rings and I groan as I reach for it. Frowning, I see that it’s Louis on the line.
“Yeah?” I ask, sitting straight up.
It’s well after ten in the morning, so normal people are up and about, but I’m not normal people and I didn’t get to sleep until four. Even then, I didn’t sleep much, not that I ever do. Clearing my throat, I rub the sleep out of my eyes.
“We got a problem,” he murmurs.
My heart immediately jumps up and into my throat at the thought of there being a problem, because I know the problem has to do with Hutton. Louis has promised to keep an eye on her, along with the other guys, but when he’s in town, like me, he isn’t working so he has more availability.
“Drove by her salon this morning, like I do every morning, just to keep an eye on shit and get my morning java,” he begins. I want to tell him to hurry the fuck up with his story, but I don’t. “Her place was vandalized, brother.”
“What the fuck?” I rasp.
“I’m out here with the sheriff deputy, it ain’t Robby, it’s another guy. Thankfully, she ain’t been by yet, but Beau, it’s pretty bad.”
“What is it?” I grind out.
There’s a moment of silence and I wait for him to continue. He’s getting on my fucking nerves by not saying anything immediately. I hear him inhale deeply then let it out with a whoosh.
“Pictures of y’all together. Mostly her naked body, then ugly words written all over them. They are completely covering her shop’s windows.”
“How?” I breathe.
My lungs squeeze at the thought of what that must look like, and then my heart aches at the thought of everyone in town driving past her salon, seeing that. Hutton is a private person, she’s not like other girls, she’s modest and a little shy. She’s going to be mortified.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”
“Chelle. Hutton mentioned something about Chelle visiting her. Have the sheriff check her out. Fuck it, I’ll call Robby.”
I end the call before he can even respond and find Robby’s number quickly. It only rings twice before he picks it up with a heavy sigh.
“I just heard about it. I’m off today, but I’m not in town. I’m interviewing for a new job in Austin in a couple of hours so I can’t go back to town until I’m finished with that.”
“Austin?” I ask.
He chuckles. “My woman lives here, she doesn’t want to move back, so I figured it was only a couple hours away, why not?”
I nod, thinking about Emily, his woman and the sad state she was in the last time I laid eyes on her. Poor little thing, I’m glad she’s doing well, but I didn’t call him to talk about his woman or his job, I called him to talk about his cunt of a sister.
“Was it her, was it Chelle?” I grind out. “She visited Hutton at work a couple of weeks ago.”
Robby makes a whining sound in the back of his throat. “Honestly? I don’t know. I called her and she swears it wasn’t. She said she went to her shop to see her. She admits she gave her your pick and class ring then wrote a note. She said she was just trying to get right, she wanted you to have your things back. I don’t know, she’s had a rough go and yeah, she’s a little crazy, but I really do think she’s trying to get herself together.”
“Would she do this to Hutton?”
“She’s capable… but she doesn’t have the money to get back and forth like that. Plus, it’s not really her style. If she was going all the way out there, she would have made herself known to you. I’m not trying to protect Chelle by any means, I just don’t think it’s her,” he admits.
God, I fucking hate Chelle. As if she hasn’t done enough shit in my life, now she’s harassing Hutton. “Fuck,” I hiss. “What can you do for her?” I demand.
“For Hutton?”
“Yeah.”
There’s a moment, a pause, before he decides to speak. “Nothing, Beaumont. Until we know exactly who it is, there is nothing that we can do except file a report. This is the part of my job that I hate, you know. Sister or not, I would arrest her if I knew it was her.”