Page 107 of Hideaway Heart

“No, you haven’t.”

I scowled. “Yes, I have, asshole. Remember that business about being shot twice in the leg?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t looked death in the eye, brother. And I’ll always be in awe of you for that. I’m saying you haven’t faced down every possible fear in life. And I get it.” His voice grew a little quieter. “I was the same way you are for a long time. I wanted complete control over everything, including my feelings. And realizing that I didn’t have it was scary as fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You want kids? Let me tell you, becoming a father is like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. You will worry about your children from their very first breath in a way you cannot comprehend before it happens.”

“I believe it.”

“But it’s worth it,” he said, his voice sure. “And I think if you meet someone you have feelings for—especially to the point where it scares you—it’s worth at least trying to make it work. What have you got to lose?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’ll tell you what you stand to lose,” he said, in true bossy big brother style. “The chance to make her happy. And if you walk away, someone else is going to grab that chance. How does that make you feel?”

“Like pushing that someone out of a plane without a parachute. After I beat the shit out of him for touching her.”

Austin laughed. “Exactly.”

“I’ve just never met anyone like her,” I said. “When I’m with her, I just—I can’t seem to—I want to just—” Again I fumbled blindly for the right words to convey how I felt. “And when I’m not with her, it’s even worse.”

“Believe me, I get it. You know what to do, Xander.”

“Yeah.” I watched a guy with a camera bag over his shoulder go by the window. He looked familiar, and a fraction of a second later, I placed him—Lawrence Hooper, the photographer who’d trailed Kelly up to Michigan. “I gotta go.” Without saying goodbye, I ended the call, shoved my phone in my pocket, dumped my trash in the bin, and raced outside.

I caught up with him easily and fell in step beside him. “Lawrence Hooper,” I said gruffly. “I’d like a word with you.”

He turned in surprise, and when he saw my face, he panicked. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

When he turned to keep walking, I grabbed his arm. “I think you do. I want to know how you knew exactly where Kelly was staying.”

“I told you. Social media post,” he said.

“What post? Show me.” I still didn’t believe this guy’s story. He just didn’t seem sharp enough to figure out the exact location of the house from Kelly’s single post showing the address.

“I don’t remember which one it was.” He wrenched his arm from my grip and kept walking.

I followed him. “Did someone tell you where she was staying?”

“Go away.”

“Was it her assistant?”

“No.”

“Her agent?”

“No.”

“I still haven’t forgotten how you trespassed on private property, you know. How you took photos not just of Kelly but of me.”

“You guys let me go already.”

“Kelly let you go. But she’s not here.”

“I can’t tell you anything, okay? I’m in enough trouble as it is.”