God, no!
I didn’t want to protect him just because he was Andy’s son.
I didn’t want to protect him because I was some stupid uncle figure to him.
I wanted to protect him becauseI loved him.
“I’m okay, really,” he said, looking back down at his marshmallow. “It’s just that… life in the fast lane. Sometimes it gets a little too fast. I’m okay. I’m old enough to handle myself, at least in most situations.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Harry, everything’s fine.”
“No it’s not. Dean, I heard your voice. You sounded… afraid of something. You know you can talk to me.”
He was silent for a moment—
More than a moment—
Until eventually he raised his head and said, “You have to promise not to tell my dad. I don’t want Dad to worry about me. He doesn’t get the whole fame thing. He doesn’t wanna know anything about it… especially not the bad stuff.”
I took my mug and his and set them both down on the coffee table.
My hand inched across the sofa, closer to him.
God how I wanted to hold him.
“Dean, what kind of ‘bad stuff’ are you talking about?”
He exhaled, a long quavering breath, then said, “The worst stuff. Harry, I think someone’s stalking me.”
“What do you mean, ‘you think someone’s stalking you?’”
“Iknowsomeone’s stalking me. There are letters. Whoever it is keeps leaving letters for me. Threatening letters. I think someone wants to kill me if I don’t leave LA.”
“Oh my God, Dean! We need to call the police.” I couldn’t hold my hand back. Instantly I reached out and laid my large paw on his thigh. I squeezed his leg, desperate to shield him from harm, determined to let him know I would keep him safe no matter what, furious at whoever had scared him so.
He looked down at my hand on his thigh.
I was about to remove it, thinking I’d made things even worse, thinking I’d made him feel even more uneasy in his vulnerable state.
But instead, he laid his hand on mine and held it there.
He looked at me directly.
I saw his confusion, his fear, the lost look in his beautiful blue eyes.
He shook his head. “I don’t want the police involved. My manager, Astrid, she’s flying here tomorrow. She’s bringing my bodyguard. I don’t want anyone to panic, I don’t want anyone to worry about me… but I also don’t want to leave Mulligan’s Mill. Not yet. Not while things seem so… dangerous.”
Before I could stop myself I reached for him.
I wrapped my arms around him.
I pulled him in so close, so tight, I was worried he couldn’t breathe.
But hecouldbreathe, because I heard him crying.
I felt his hot, frightened breaths against my shoulder.
