Saving the Rockstar

Chapter 22 Asher

As the plane touched down on the tarmac, the familiar sights and sounds of Los Angeles flooding my senses, I felt a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, a rollercoaster of highs and lows that had left me feeling raw and exposed.

Jared and I made our way through the crowded airport, our hands clasped tightly together in a silent show of solidarity. It wasn't until we were in the car, speeding down the highway towards the city, that I finally saw it. There, splashed across the front page of a tabloid magazine, was a headline that made my blood run cold.

"Jared: The Truth Behind His Relationship with Asher Roth," it read, the words seeming to mock me from the glossy pages. "Exclusive details about his past affairs and his true intentions revealed."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me as I scanned the article with shaking hands. It was filled with accusations and insinuations. It painted Jared as a fame-hungry social climber, suggesting that he'd used his previous relationship with a well-known actress to gain access to Hollywood's inner circle. It claimed that he was only with me for the publicity, for the chance to further his own career.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at the words on the page. The idea that my love for Jared might be based on a lie, that the one person I had come to rely on more than anyone else in the world could be using me... it was too much to bear.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, gentle and hesitant, and I looked up to see Jared's face, his eyes filled with concern and uncertainty. "Asher," he said softly. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak, couldn't find the words to express the depth of my pain and confusion. Instead, I thrust the magazine into his hands, my own shaking so badly that I could barely keep my grip on the pages.

Jared's eyes widened as he scanned the article, his face draining of color as he took in the accusations and the lies. "Ash, this isn't true. You know that, right? You know that I would never, ever use you like that. You know how I feel about you, how much you mean to me."

But I could barely hear him over the roaring in my ears, the sickening swoop of doubt and anxiety that threatened to pull me under. It was as if all my worst fears, all my deepest insecurities, had been laid bare on the page, exposed for all the world to see.

By the time we reached my apartment, I was spiraling, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios and bitter recriminations. Jared followed me inside, his concern palpable, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"Ash, talk to me," he pleaded, reaching for me. "Don't shut me out. We can figure this out together."

Something in me snapped, the hurt and confusion boiling over into anger. I wrenched away from his touch, my voice shaking as I rounded on him.

"Is it true?" I demanded, hating the way my voice cracked. "What they said about your past, about your ex. Is that why you're with me? For the fame, the attention?"

Jared recoiled as if I'd slapped him, his eyes wide with shock and hurt. "What? How can you even ask me that? After everything we've been through, everything I've done to prove my love for you?"

"Have you, though?" I countered, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "How do I know it hasn't all been an act, a ploy to get close to me, to use me like you apparently used her?"

Jared's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Is that really what you think of me? That I'm some kind of opportunistic leech, latching onto you for my own gain?"

He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and anguish. "I have risked everything to be with you. My privacy, my anonymity, my own fucking career. I've stood by you through the media circus, through the public scrutiny and the invasive questions. I've held you through your panic attacks and your nightmares, I've been your rock and your safe haven. And you have the nerve to question my intentions? To doubt my love for you?"

His voice broke on the last word, and it was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, shocking me out of my spiral of anxiety and doubt. The raw pain in his eyes, the hurt etched into every line of his face cut me to the core.

"Jared, I..." I swallowed hard, shame and regret rising like bile in my throat. "I'm sorry. I don't really believe that. I know you love me. I'm just so scared."

My voice wavered, tears blurring my vision. "I'm terrified that this is all too good to be true, that I don't deserve you, that you'll realize I'm not worth the trouble and you'll leave. And reading those horrible things, seeing our love twisted and tarnished like that, it just hit all my worst insecurities, all my deepest fears."

Jared's expression softened, the anger draining from his face. He closed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly against his chest.

"Baby, no," he murmured into my hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you, I choose you, every day, no matter what. No stupid article, no outside opinion, can change that."

He pulled back just far enough to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped down my cheeks. "I know your anxiety lies to you, I know your past makes it hard for you to trust. But I need you to hear me, to believe me when I say that my love for you is the realest, truest thing in my life. You are my heart, Asher. My home, my forever. And I will spend every day proving that to you, if that's what it takes."

A sob hitched in my throat, the knot of fear and pain in my chest loosening at his words. I pressed my forehead to his, my hands fisting in his shirt. "I'm sorry," I whispered again, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "I know your love is real. I feel it every day, in every look, every touch, every word. Forgive me?"

Jared's answer was a searing kiss, his mouth slanting over mine with desperation.

I woke slowly. For a moment, I was disoriented, unsure of my surroundings. Then the familiar scent of my bedroom, the soft warmth of my sheets, registered, and I remembered. I was home, in my apartment.

I lay there for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of conversation drifting in from the living room. Dylan and Jared, from the cadence of their voices. I couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone gave me pause. Dylan's usual playful lilt was missing, replaced by a gravity, a seriousness that seemed out of character.

Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped out of bed, padding softly to the bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar. Pressing myself against the wall, I strained to hear.

"...just don't want to see him get hurt again," Dylan was saying, his voice tight with worry. "He's been through so much already, Jared. I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with tension. Then Jared spoke, his tone measured but firm. "I know the things that have been said about me... it doesn't paint a pretty picture. But I need you to believe, that my feelings for Asher are genuine. He's not a stepping stone, not a means to an end. He's everything to me."

I held my breath. Hearing Jared defend our love, defend his intentions, to my best friend - it meant a lot.

Dylan sighed, and I could picture him running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. "I want to believe you, Jared. I do. It's just... Ash is like a brother to me. I've seen him at his lowest when he was with Carter. I've watched him claw his way back from the brink. I can't stand the thought of him being used, being hurt like that again."

"I know." Jared's voice was soft, almost reverent. "Believe me, I know. I see it every day, the strength in him, the resilience. I count myself lucky beyond measure that he's chosen me, that he's let me into his heart."

There was another pause. When Dylan spoke again, his tone was gentler, more conciliatory. "Asher really loves you, you know. I've never seen him light up the way he does when you're around. I remember how happy he was before Carter came into his life. But that monster changed him. Asher never really got back to his jovial self when things with Carter ended. But now that you’re in his life, it's like you've brought a part of him back to life, a part I thought might be gone forever."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my throat tightening with a swell of emotion. To hear Dylan, my rock, my fiercest protector, acknowledge the depth of my feelings for Jared, the positive impact he'd had on my life, it was a validation I hadn't known I needed.

"I love him, too," Jared said, his voice raw with sincerity. "And I promise you, Dylan, I will spend every day striving to be worthy of that love, of the trust he's placed in me."

I heard Dylan exhale, long and slow. "Okay," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I believe you. And for what it's worth, I'm glad he has you. You're good for him, in ways I don't think even he fully realizes yet."

Their voices dropped, the conversation turning to lighter topics, but I barely registered the words. I crept back to the bed, not wanting to alert them to my eavesdropping.

The night before the press conference found me pacing the floor of my apartment, my breath coming in short, painful gasps. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thick to pull into my lungs.

Jared watched me from the couch, his brow furrowed with concern. "Ash, baby, come here," he pleaded, patting the seat beside him. "Talk to me. Let me help."

I shook my head, my fingers clawing at my scalp as I tried to quiet the screaming in my head.

Jared rose, approaching me slowly, his hands held out in supplication. "Maybe we should postpone the conference," he suggested gently. "It's taking such a toll on you. Your well-being is what matters most."

Something in me snapped, the suggestion of retreat, of hiding, raking across my raw nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I whirled on him, my eyes wild, my voice high and tight.

"Postpone? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what that would look like, Jared? The whispers, the speculation... it would be a fucking nightmare."

Jared recoiled as if I'd slapped him, hurt and confusion etched into the lines of his face. "Hey, I just want to protect you."

I laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that scraped my throat raw. "Protect me? You can't even begin to understand the pressure I'm under, the weight of expectations crushing me from all sides. You have no idea what it's like, to have your every move, your every breath, dissected and analyzed by millions of people who think they own a piece of you."

The words tasted like poison, like ashes on my tongue. Even as they left my mouth, I knew they were wrong, unfair. But I couldn't seem to stop, the pain and panic spilling out of me in a vicious torrent. I saw the impact of each barb, each bitter accusation, in the flinch of Jared's shoulders, the tightening of his jaw. But still, the words kept coming.

Finally, chest heaving, I fell silent, the echoes of my tirade ringing in the sudden stillness. Jared stared at me, his expression a mask of hurt and resignation.

"I'll give you some space," he said quietly, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "I can see that's what you need right now."

I stood frozen, mute, as he slipped out the door. I sank to the floor, my back against the wall, and buried my face in my hands. What had I done?

The morning of the press conference dawned bright and clear, a cruel contrast to the turmoil roiling inside me. I had barely slept, my mind and heart in tatters from the devastating argument with Jared the night before. His absence was a physical ache, a hollow space in my chest where his warmth and love should’ve been.

But the show, as they say, had to go on. And so I dragged myself out of bed, going through the motions of showering, dressing, preparing for the performance of a lifetime.

In the green room, as stylists fussed with my hair and makeup artists concealed the dark circles under my eyes, I practiced my lines, the carefully crafted script we had prepared to share our love story with the world.

"Jared is my rock, my safe haven," I recited, my voice hollow to my own ears. "He has been by my side through every challenge, every trial. His love and support have been the guiding light in my darkest moments. I am blessed beyond measure to call him my boyfriend, my soulmate."

How could I stand up there and profess my love, my devotion, when just hours ago I had pushed Jared away, had wounded him with my careless cruelty?

With a heavy heart and a leaden step, I made my way to the podium, the flashing cameras and murmuring crowd a dizzying blur.

As I took my place, my palms slick with sweat, my heart racing in my chest, I scanned the room, searching for the one face I needed to see. And there he was, sitting at the back, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, our eyes met, and I saw a flicker of something - love, encouragement, a silent plea for me to be brave. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a mask of cool professionalism.

I gripped the sides of the podium, my knuckles white, and began to speak. But the words I had practiced, the declaration of love and commitment, stuck in my throat, choking me.

Instead, what came out was a jumble of half-truths and evasions, a desperate attempt to deflect the probing questions and prying eyes. I spoke of friendship, of mutual respect and admiration. But the word "love," the confirmation they were all waiting for, never passed my lips.

And then, in a moment of sheer panic, the question I had been dreading most: "Asher, are you and Jared romantically involved?"

The room fell silent, every eye, every camera trained on me. I could feel the weight of expectation, the pressure to be brave, to be true.

"No," I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant, foreign to my own ears. "Jared and I are just friends, colleagues."

The words sounded like betrayal. In the back of the room, I saw Jared go still, his face draining of color. For a moment, our eyes locked, and the pain, the disbelief I saw there cut me to the core.

And then he was moving, standing abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, without a backwards glance, he turned and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him with a finality that shattered my heart.

The room erupted into chaos, reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing. But I was oblivious, my eyes fixed on the spot where Jared had been, the space he had left behind.

What had I done?

I don't remember much of what happened next. I know Dylan rushed to my side, his face tight with worry and confusion. I know he whispered something to the crowd, something about ending the conference early. And then he was guiding me off stage, his arm around my shoulders, shielding me from the clamoring masses.

Backstage, in the relative quiet of the green room, he turned to me, his eyes searching my face. "Ash, what happened out there?"

I shook my head, my throat tight, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I don't know," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I panicked and I..."

Dylan's expression softened, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders. "It's okay," he soothed, though the worry never left his eyes. "We'll figure it out, alright?"

But I could feel the panic rising. As Dylan left to find Vivian, to try to do damage control, I stumbled to my dressing room, locking the door behind me.

And then, in the privacy of that small space, I fell apart. Sobs tore from my throat, raw and wrenching, as I sank to the floor.

I thought of Jared’s face, the shock and hurt and betrayal etched into every line. The way he had walked away, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. As if I had struck him, as if I had driven a knife into his heart.

And hadn't I? With my cowardice, my weakness, I had shattered the trust between us, had thrown away the most precious thing in my life.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed Jared's number. It rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. I tried again, and again, each unanswered call a twist of the knife in my gut.

He wasn't going to pick up. Why would he, after what I had done? I had proven myself unworthy of his love, his trust. I had betrayed him in the most public, most humiliating way possible.

As I huddled on the floor, my phone clutched to my chest, the thoughts swirled in my head. I had ruined everything. The love, the safety, the future I had found with Jared - I had thrown it all away in a moment of fear, of weakness. I had let my anxiety, my insecurity, my past trauma, rule me, and in doing so, I had lost the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door, Dylan's voice soft and concerned. "Ash? You okay in there?"

I couldn't answer. I heard him sigh, heard the thump as he leaned his forehead against the door.

"I'm here, alright? I’ll always be there for you. When you're ready. We'll figure this out."