7. Zach
ZACH
Nate beats me to the car, barely, and then we drive back to Halo House.
I don’t talk or sing, and Nate seems happy to let me be silent.
I’m not sure why I committed to telling him what happened.
Is it because he’s so open about his own life, or because he makes me feel safe?
Or maybe I just need to get it out. If I speak it out loud, it’ll seem less scary, and I’ll realize I’m overreacting and laugh it off, and this whole nightmare will be over.
Alternatively. I’ll feel even worse about myself than I already do.
The conservatory is free, so we go in there, shutting the door behind us.
We sit on neighboring chairs, but almost straight away I get up and pace.
It’s so hot in here. It doesn’t help that I’m hot and sweaty from the run.
I should go and shower first, although I probably won’t come downstairs again if I do.
Besides, there’s something oddly comforting about wearing Nate’s clothes. I have no idea what that says about me.
Talk. That’s what I said I’d do. That’s what I will do.
I take a deep breath, twist my fingers together, and face him. “Before I tell you everything that happened… I’ve been trying to figure out how she found out where I live.”
“Have you?”
“I think so, yes. A few days ago, I was photographed with my co-star from Confessions. Stacey? That’s the actress’s name. Her character was Melody.”
“Your on-screen girlfriend? I remember.”
“We went for coffee together. I have no idea why there were even paparazzi there, but one minute we were enjoying an iced coffee together, and the next, they were taking photos of us. It didn’t take long before they ended up online, and everyone started asking if we’re dating in real life.
We’re not, obviously.” I put my hands in the pockets of the jogging bottoms I’m wearing.
Nate’s jogging bottoms. “Afterwards, a reporter followed me home.”
Nate’s expression darkens. I assume the bodyguards he hires have to deal with overenthusiastic press all the time.
“They tried interviewing me, and they took photos, but I asked them—politely—to leave me alone. I didn’t mind running into reporters downtown, but following me home…” I shudder. “It was too much.”
“It’s not okay,” Nate agrees.
“My current theory is that they published some of the photos and that there was enough in them to identify where I live. It’s either that, or she’d been following me.” I shudder. “I don’t want to think about her following me.”
“I know.” Nate moves along, making room for me beside him, and holds his hand out. “Sit with me.”
I stare at him.
He smiles and waggles his fingers invitingly. The sunlight picks out golden flecks in his hazel eyes. They’re so beautiful. So kind. He promised he wouldn’t laugh at me or mock me. I have to trust him. I step close enough to take his hand and let him gently tug me onto the seat beside him.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls me against his side, stroking my shoulder. “Is this all right?”
It’s better than all right. It’s nice, comforting, and grounding. I nod and lean into him more, craving his warmth in a way I’ve never wanted anything before. I can’t explain it. Being this close to him just feels right.
We sit in silence for a while, Nate holding me, while I build up the courage to continue. Tears prickle my eyes. Why can’t I just spit it out? Why can’t I admit what happened? Admit how ridiculous I’m being?
“I was bullied for being a theatre kid,” I blurt out eventually, which isn’t what I meant to say at all.
“That’s the real reason I bulked up. I was always tall for my age.
Tall but scrawny. Between that and liking acting, singing, and dancing, I was an easy target.
I bulked up so the bullies would be too scared to target me, but I told myself I was doing it because fit guys get cast more easily.
It’s bullshit. But now I’m big enough and strong enough to stand up for myself.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was terrified. ”
“What happened?” Nate asks, holding me tighter still.
I choke out a sob.
“Take your time.” He rocks me, whispering soothing sounds that make me want to press tighter against him.
I’m pretty sure I’d climb into his lap if he’d let me. No one has ever made me feel this protected before. I want to let my guard down with him, really I do, but it’s so hard. I’ve spent so long manufacturing a tough-guy image that being vulnerable has become alien to me.
“Would it be easier if you pretend you’re acting,” he asks.
“What?”
“Imagine you’re playing a role and reading lines from a script written by someone else. This is someone else’s story. Someone else’s truth. You’re just the actor bringing the monologue to life. You can do that, can’t you?”
“I—” Can I? Would that even work? It’s worth a try, I guess.
I close my eyes. Distance myself from it.
Pretend it’s someone else’s story. “I’d been waiting tables from opening at eleven until eight.
I got home and noticed the lights were on and music was playing, but I figured I must have just left them on that morning.
Or maybe there had been a power cut, and things had been set off when the power came back on.
” I try not to feel. This happened to someone else.
Not me. I’m playing a role. Zach Taylor is just a character. “I wasn’t worried at all.”
Anger rises within me again. I should have been worried.
I shouldn’t have gone into my apartment at all.
I should have done everything differently.
I could have knocked on a neighbor’s door and asked them to check the apartment with me, gone to my landlord, who lives on the same block, or called the police.
“Breathe,” Nate says.
I take a few deep breaths until I’ve calmed down.
“You went into your apartment,” he prompts.
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“Her.”
“What was she doing?”
“Sitting at my kitchen table. She’d cooked a meal for us.
She’d scattered rose petals all over the floor, leading to my bedroom.
The air stank of her perfume. She berated me for being late.
Said I’d almost ruined dinner, and how could I do that to her?
Wasn’t it bad enough that I’d cheated on her with Stacey?
” I squeeze my eyes shut. “No. Not Stacey. Melody. She specifically said Melody.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing, at first. I was too stunned. How had she got into my apartment? I couldn’t see any obvious signs of a break-in.
The door had been locked. She just kept talking.
Going on and on about how ungrateful I was and how much trouble she’d gone to.
She’d tried to make the evening special, and I was late.
There was just something about the way she spoke.
Her voice. I don’t know. She scared me. Why did she scare me? ”
Nate doesn’t answer. I guess he can’t. He wasn’t there. I can’t describe the way she made me feel. Even thinking about it leaves me cold inside.
“There were knives out on the side. The ones she’d used to cook with.
I just kept thinking, what if I say the wrong thing?
What if I make her angry? What if she goes for a knife?
Umm…” I’m shaking, but Nate holds me. “My phone. My phone was in my pocket. It has this feature where if you rapidly press the side button five times, it automatically calls the emergency services without making a sound. I did that. I didn’t know what else to do. ”
“You did the right thing.”
“She got angry because I wasn’t saying anything. But when I did, to try to make her happy and keep her calm, she screamed at me because of my accent.”
“She was expecting you to sound like your character?”
“Yes. And I should have known that. I should have—” I press my face against his chest and curl against him, needing to feel safe.
“I tried placating her. I switched accents, but I was kind of rusty. On set, I worked with a dialect coach. While I was filming, I could flip back and forth between the two without really thinking about it, but we wrapped up filming months ago, and I haven’t used a Californian accent since.
” Why am I telling him this? It’s not important.
“I kept talking. Played along with her. I didn’t know what else to do.
Then she laughed.” My face twists on the word.
“She called me silly. Told me she could never really be mad at me and that we should kiss and make up. And I had to… I had to let her… I had to play along. It was just a hug. Just a kiss… But it felt so wrong. Like a… A… Violation. But it was just a kiss. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing, Zach. It was unwanted and forced upon you. It felt like a violation because it was one. I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“The police arrived right after. She screamed at me for calling them. Told me to make them go away.”
“But you didn’t?”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t say a word. They must have heard her shouting or something, because they took one look at me and marched into the apartment. She ranted and raved at them to go. Told them it was none of their business. That I was her boyfriend and we were just having a lovers’ tiff.”
“They didn’t believe her?”
“No. Thank God. They arrested her. After they’d taken her away…
I couldn’t… I couldn’t even go into my bedroom.
I didn’t want to know what she’d done in there.
The thought of staying in the apartment…
I just couldn’t. It smelled of her. Her perfume was everywhere.
Even on me.” I disentangle myself from his embrace, stand, and retreat to the other side of the conservatory. “I hate feeling this way.”
“How do you feel?”
“Powerless. I should have been able to do something, but I just played along.”
“You were scared, and you didn’t know what she was going to do. You did what you could to keep her calm until the cops arrived. I’m proud of you, Zach.”
I sniff. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I did the right thing?”
“You did what your instincts told you to. I assume you’ve never been given training on what to do in this sort of situation?”
I shake my head. “There’s training?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I’d been given it. There’s so much I don’t know about how to handle fame and everything that comes with it. Especially the bad stuff.”
Nate comes over to me. He extends his arms, waiting until I give him the slightest nod to pull me into a hug, with my arms clamped at my sides. I don’t fight him. I sink against him, needing him.
I sob into his shoulder. “Every time I think about going home, my thoughts spiral. What if she’s already been released? What if she does it again? What if—?”
“You don’t have to go back there. When you’re ready, I can help you find a new place. And I can assign a CPO to you—no charge—until you’re feeling safer and more confident again.”
“I don’t—” I work my arms free so I can return his embrace, clutching the back of his T-shirt. “I don’t want a bodyguard. I don’t want another stranger in my home or near me. I want… I want… You. You make me feel safe. I just want to feel safe.”
“I know.” He strokes my hair. “And I’m here. I’ll be here for you for as long as you need me to be.”
“Thank you.” I sniff and lift my head, so I can look into his eyes. “While I’m here, will you be my caregiver?”
He uses his thumb to brush the tears from my cheek. “You know I will.”
My chin wobbles. “I’ve never…”
“I know. It’s all right. There’s nothing you need to do. Nothing you’re not already doing. Just trust me. Lean on me. Let me take care of you.”
I nod. “I can do that.” As I say the words, I realize I can. I can drop the tough-guy act around him. I can be me—a guy who caught hold of his dreams, only to have them ripped away in a single night. A guy whose confidence has been shattered. A guy who just needs to be held.