Page 38 of Damaged Desires

There were only two things that could have him sounding that way. Either he found out about Nash and me, or he’d found out about last night’s incident. I wasn’t quite sure how he would have found out about either one because there’d been no witnesses to either debacle.

When I hadn’t responded, his voice turned soft, more concern than anger. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Which was mostly true. I was back to my normal self as much as I’d been over the last year.

“When I turned on the news and saw the fire hitting you, I… I kind of freaked out.”

I sat down on the weight bench. “It was on the news?”

“You didn’t know?”

“It was after midnight. How could it possibly have hit the wire already? Hold on while I turn on the TV.”

I looked around at the TVs that were stationed in the room, silent. I found a remote and sifted through the channels until I hit an early morning show. There I was, being hit in the back of the head with a rope of firecrackers, the spark setting fire to my jacket, me dropping it, and jumping into the limousine, Marco and Trevor shoving Brady in.

Then, the anchor came back on. “This arrived in our station’s email box with a note from Brady O’Neil’s supposed attacker. The email said, ‘You can’t replace me and win.’ So, it seems that the happy-go-lucky country musician, famous for his charm and his role onFighting for the Stars,is not quite the clean-cut American hero everyone wants to believe.”

I shut it off. Shit. I was going to have to be all over this. How could they be blaming Brady for this? As if it was his fault that someone was stupid enough to throw a firecracker at him—and miss, to boot.

“Dani?” Mac’s voice was all concern.

“I’m here,” I said, but I was already typing a text to Lee and Brady.

“The fireworks hit you. Are you hurt?”

“I have a small burn on my shoulder. It isn’t any worse than the million flat-iron burns I’ve had in my lifetime. I’m fine, but I’m going to have to go. I need to get ahead of it.”

“Hey. Stop. Breathe,” he said.

And I did. My anxiety from last night had now just turned into anger. It was just like a year ago, when I’d woken up to my parents at Mac’s and my door and the news showcasing the attack on me in an elevator. I’d gone from anxious to a fire-breathing dragon. It was the same now. No one was going to make Brady out to be the bad guy on my watch.

Nash

FIX YOU

“Tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace.”

Performed by Coldplay

Written by Martin / Berryman / Buckland / Champion

After drinks with Mac in D.C.,I sobered up over a meal and then drove out to Church Beach. It was late, and I let myself in because the lights were out. Molly came bounding down the stairs to greet me, jumping off the last step so I had to catch her or let her hit the ground.

“Hey, girl, you miss me?”

I scratched her chin, ran my fingers over her fur, and then set her down.

“Nash?” Tristan’s tired voice called out quietly, coming around the corner at the top of the stairs and looking down.

“Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”

We both knew I probably hadn’t.

“Why are you here again?” she asked.

“Go back to bed. We can talk in the morning,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to have another conversation about being put on leave.