Chapter Twelve
VICTORIA
As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, the words have been flowing.
My notebook is a mess of lyrics and half-finished verses, and ink is smudged down the side of my hand and arm as I rush to keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of my head.
I don’t even know what time it is. Mason’s oversized T-shirt is slipping off one shoulder, my legs tucked underneath me on the couch as I write.
It’s like something cracked open in me last night.
Maybe it was the adrenaline. The way my whole world tipped sideways, only to be caught—literally—by him. Or maybe it was the way he undressed me so gently, like he was trying to peel away the fear instead of just my clothes.
Maybe it was the kiss.
God, that kiss.
He left just before dawn. I barely registered the sound of his alarm over the haze of exhaustion. But I remember the shift of the mattress as he stood, the soft press of lips on mine, and the way his fingers lingered on my jaw like he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t say a word, just kissed me.
And somehow, that’s all I needed.
Now, curled up in his space with the smell of him wrapped around me, lyrics pour out of me faster than I can arrange them. Raw. Honest. Unfiltered. I haven’t written like this in a long, long time.
The lines aren’t about pain, the grief that had been suffocating me for months now. They’re about hope, about feeling safe again.
And under all the flowery words and heartfelt bridges…it’s all about him.
There’s nothing fake anymore about Mason’s and my relationship. Silently, that contract was mentally torn up last night, and in its place, we forged a new bond.
He is it for me. I just know it.
My phone buzzes across the coffee table, pulling me out of my writing trance. I blink at it, praying that it will stop ringing and I can go back to my work. I’m not that lucky though. When I see Cece’s name flash across the screen, I know she’s not going to give up so easily.
She’s trying to reach me and won’t stop calling until she does. I hesitate for only a second before answering.
“Morning,” I say, voice still hoarse from sleep and…well, life.
“Well, good morning to you,” Cece says, and I can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “You made headlines again today.”
I groan. “What? How?” My brain races with what they could have gotten a picture of now. Mason and I have been apart for the last week.
“Want me to read you the headline or just send the link and let you scream into a pillow in peace?”
I sigh, dragging Mason’s throw blanket tighter around me. “Just tell me.”
“Alright. This one’s from Star Watch Weekly, so brace yourself: ‘Things are Heating Up: Country Pop Princess Clings to Hockey Heartthrob as Apartment Burns Down.’”
I rub my temples. “Are you shitting me? The paparazzi was here last night?”
“Oh, baby, I never kid when tabloids are involved. And at least they weren’t calling you a drunk again. Now, you’re just a fire starter.”
“That’s such a crass headline. Nothing burnt down, just…singed.” I pause. “What’s the photo?”
There’s a beat of silence as Cece rustles some paper. “It’s you and Mason. He’s holding you like the world just ended and you’re all he’s got left. Cops are behind you, mid-conversation, but the angle makes it look very epic movie romance. You look…cozy.”
“Great.”
“You look in love.”
That stills me.
I swallow. “We were just… I was shaken.”
“So shaken that he had to leave training camp to be with you,” she says matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to play it down with me, Tori. We’ve been friends a long time. I know when you’re into someone and when you’re just smiling for the camera.”
I don’t answer right away.
How do I explain that I don’t know where the line is anymore? That the rules we set in place are unravelling thread by thread. That Mason makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years—maybe ever.
“I think…” I start, then stop, my thumb tracing the corner of my notebook. “I think lines are being crossed. And rules are definitely being broken. But I also think…I’ve never felt this way before.”
Cece doesn’t respond for a second, and when she does, her voice is softer.
“Then just be careful, okay?”
“I am.”
“No, I mean really. Be careful. You and I can weather any storm together, and if we have to, we can find another way to get your image back on track without Mason. But I can’t fix a broken heart. And from what I’m looking at in today’s paper…your heart is one beat away from being his.”
“I’m guarding it. I promise.”
There’s a long pause as we both take deep breaths to control our emotions.
“Back to being your manager. I think I should hire a security detail for the next little while. At least until this fire situation is cleared up.”
I blink. Sitting up straighter, I hold the phone tighter in my hand.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it just doesn’t add up. You don’t drink. You don’t burn candles. And you sure as hell don’t leave flammable liquid puddled on your floor.”
My skin prickles.
“How do you know those details?” My voice is shaky, and my body begins to tremble slightly.
“My ex. Ricky was a detective, remember? I called him, asked to know the details in exchange for a future favour.”
Oh, right. I’m being stupid thinking for one second that Cece would be a part of something like this. I’m starting to lose it.
“It is strange,” I whisper. “I’ve been trying not to think it. But…what if it wasn’t an accident? Do you think a member of the press would go so far as to light my place on fire just to get a damaging headline?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past some of those slimeballs, but your building’s secure.
It’s one of the reasons the label chose it.
I’m going to do a bit more digging with Ricky, but you need to take care of yourself for the next little while.
No going out alone. I’ll work on getting that security detail. ”
“That sounds extreme.”
“Well, the situation calls for it. I’m sure if I didn’t do it, Mason would.”
I press my lips together because I know she’s right.
Before I can say anything, there’s a knock at the door.
“Someone’s here,” I whisper to Cece. Slowly getting off the couch, I tiptoe to the door. As stealthily as I can, I squint into the peephole. Three men are standing outside my door, dressed in all black and looking very serious.
Keeping the security chain in place, I crack open the door. I can hear Cece yelling something, but I ignore her. “Can I help you?”
“Miss Westwyld, my name is Falcon. Your boyfriend hired us to be your security team from this point forward. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to come in and make sure the apartment is secure.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I knew it!” Cece screeches over the line before I hang up on her.
I can’t believe this. “Can you give me one second to—” The words die on my lips as I see a text from Mason flash on my screen.
MASON: Don’t freak out. If I can’t be there to protect you, I need someone I trust to watch out for you. Let Falcon and the boys in. I’ll call as soon as I’m in my room tonight.
He ends the message with a red heart.
I don’t know whether to be mad, impressed, or nervous that Mason has gone over the top and hired a security team to watch me. What I can decipher is that knowing he’s thinking about me, even as he’s supposed to be focusing on an important upcoming season, has tingles racing down my spine.
“Well, you better come in. Make yourself at home, as Mason would say.” I close the door, quickly unlatching the chain and then opening it up again. “I better put on another pot of coffee.”