Page 18 of Hold Me Closer

Nadia

B y the time Teo flies out for the game, the fact that he stayed the night at my place is all over the news.

I know because my phone won't stop ringing.

Zoya is the first to call, squealing in my ear.

She's over-the-moon thrilled for us. Innessa is equally as excited, peppering me with questions and pouting about the fact that she wasn't able to come visit with Zoya.

My mom and dad are more reserved but no less excited for us.

"I should come, zaika ," Dad says, worry in his tone. "Your face is everywhere. You have need of big, scary men in your life to keep these photographers away."

"Daddy," I say, laughing quietly. He is a big, scary man, more than capable of scaring photographers away. But we both know he's only looking for a reason to come check up on me. "I'm fine. Teo already took care of it."

"He did?" Mom asks as I stare out the window, taking deep breaths to keep myself calm and focused.

I'm heading to Olive's office in the back of the car she sent for me. Even now, cars aren't easy for me. I don't drive. I don't know if I ever will again. But Olive called me in for an emergency meeting, and there's no getting around this city without getting into a vehicle.

I already know what—or who—we'll be discussing today. Like Dad said, my face is everywhere right now.

"He did," I tell my mom. "He has security outside my house now, keeping the paparazzi at bay."

"He is smart boy," my dad grunts, clearly pleased by the news. "I will call him. We will make more plans to keep you safe, zaika . It will be well."

"Dad," I groan quietly. "Please be nice when you talk to him."

"Nice? I am always nice to Mateo. He is good boy, Nadia."

I shake my head, smiling to myself. He is so full of it.

I hear the false innocence in his tone. He's going to harass the hell out of him as soon as he gets him on the phone, just like he did when we were kids.

I know it. He knows it. Judging by the smile on my Uber driver's face, even he knows it.

And he's only hearing half of the conversation!

"I'll make sure he behaves, sweet girl," Mom promises.

"I am very well-behaved," Dad grumbles.

"Of course you are, He-Man ."

"We're pulling up," I murmur as they bicker back and forth about the fact that my dad is absolutely not very well-behaved . He doesn't even know the definition. "I've got to go."

"Okay, sweetheart. We love you," Mom says, her voice softening. "And we're happy for you. Enjoy this, okay? And try to let the past be the past. That's what both of you deserve now."

"Yes," Dad agrees. "You have cried enough, zaika . Both of you. Be happy now."

"Okay," I whisper, tears stinging my eyes as a fierce wave of gratitude washes through me. I love them both so damn much. No matter what I do, they're just there for me. No matter how badly I've messed up, they've never judged me for it. They just show up. They love me.

And they love Teo, too.

Aunt Miranda and Jason, Teo's parents, are the same way. Our parents have been best friends for decades, doing everything together. And no matter what happened between me and Teo, they never treated either of us any differently.

"Hey, Mom? Dad?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for loving us," I whisper, my throat tight. "Thanks for trying to protect us—both of us—even when you didn't know how to do it."

" Zaika ," Dad says, his voice gentle. "Of course we protect you.

You both hurt. You both grieve. Neither of you can see it because you were both lost. We keep your secrets because they aren't ours to tell.

But we always knew you would find your way back.

You are sud'ba . That means what you have is special, zaika .

It means forever, like me and my kisa ."

"I love you," I say, smiling softly. My dad may be a big, scary man, but he's also a smart one, too. I love seeing the world through his eyes. It's always kind of beautiful and a little bit magical, too.

" Ya tebya lyublyu ," he murmurs.

I disconnect the call, preparing to slip my phone into my pocket, but I hesitate and then pull up Teo's number. There's no way he'll get a text from me right now—he's still mid-flight. But I send one anyway.

Me: I miss you already.

Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly, since this grown-up version of Teo plays by his own rules—I get a response almost immediately.

Teo: So fucking much, butterfly. Forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight hours. After six years, it's not so long.

Somehow, it feels like a lifetime anyway.

My driver pulls up along the curb outside of Olive's building.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and climb out, stretching my arms over my head as I thank him.

Sunlight glints on the massive glass windows, blinding me.

Then again, this part of Los Angeles is always blinding.

It's so freaking big here, overwhelmingly so.

Shadows from buildings stretch across the street and tower overhead, blocking the bright blue sky. Back home, there's sky everywhere. Here, you only see it in glimpses in entire tracts of the city, like it's some ephemeral thing hanging like a pretty backdrop against the rat race.

I miss looking up and seeing the whole broad expanse of it stretching above me. More than I realized.

I head inside, taking the elevator up to Olive's office.

Her receptionist immediately waves me in, not even pausing her phone conversation long enough to say hello.

I don't take it personally. The woman is busy.

Olive is busy. New York isn't the only city that never sleeps.

And the entertainment industry never stops.

I tap on Olive's door, waiting for her to shout for me to come in.

I find her behind her desk, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her delicate nose. She's not much older than I am, but unlike me, she's a force of nature, born into a family that's been in this business for decades.

She glances up, her blue eyes settling on my face. "You said you weren't fucking him, Nadia."

Busted, I guess.

"I wasn't at the time." I grimace at her. "And then things changed."

"I can see that." She stares at me levelly for a long moment and then shakes her head, an exasperated smile touching her lips. "The whole world can see that right now."

I push the door closed, crossing her massive office on silent feet. I don't apologize, though. I won't ever do that, not over this. "How bad is the coverage?"

I refuse to look. I really don't want to know what they're saying about us. I learned long ago that it's better not to know what people say about me than it is to obsess over it. The only thing I'm liable to do by reading it is drive myself crazy.

"Well, whoever was outside your house last night got some great shots of his hands all over your ass while you two were making out in his car," she says, making me groan. "But the coverage itself isn't bad. The tide of public opinion seems to be turning in his favor for once."

"Really?" I slip into a chair across from her desk, relieved as hell.

"Mmhmm. Someone floated the idea that the bar fight the other night was over someone threatening you.

The story caught like wildfire." She meets my gaze, hers frank.

"It helps that you look really fucking happy at his side.

People love you. They root for you. So seeing you lit up like that makes them want to root for him, too. "

"Good," I whisper. "I want them to root for him."

"They think he's the football player from your music," she warns me.

I glance down at my hands. "He is."

"Shit."

"We were best friends growing up. We drifted after…well, none of that matters. The point is, he's been part of my life since the day I was born."

"How do you want me to handle this, Nadia?

The phone has been ringing off the hook with people wanting us to comment.

If we don't get ahead of it, they'll go digging," she says gently.

She's well aware of my history. I didn't lie to her about it when she agreed to represent me.

The only thing I kept for myself was Teo's place in it.

That felt sacred. But the rest of it? The accident, the PTSD, and the intensive treatment?

She knows. "It'd be better to plant the story you want to tell. "

My stomach churns at the thought of planting a story or building a carefully crafted narrative. That's never been what I wanted to do. I just wanted to sing with Teo at my side.

But I guess even dreams have little pockets of shadow, right? They're designed in the same realm as nightmares, crafted from the same stuff. One can easily turn into the other. We're both public figures, living public lives. If we want to keep doing this, we have to take the bad with the good.

I don't want to peel back my skin and let the whole world see the wreckage of my past. I don't want to share my scars and trauma.

I never wanted to be the pop star who has PTSD.

I never wanted to be Nadia Mikhail, the girl who spent time in rehab.

I don't want everyone treating me differently—and they will. They always do.

But…maybe it's the sacrifice I have to make. Maybe that's the only way we get to move forward: by spilling it all out. We can't forget it. We can't hide from it. Maybe we have no choice but to spill it all out and take what comes.

But more than I owe anyone else answers or the truth, I owe it to him. I don't know why I thought I'd be able to keep it from him anyway. Life doesn't really work that way. I guess I just hoped that, for once, I'd be able to protect him the way he always protected me.

"Can I talk to him first?" I ask Olive quietly. "There are some things we need to discuss before I can make any decisions."

"Yes, definitely talk to him. Decide what you guys want to make public and what you don't. We'll go from there," she says. "I know his publicist, Emelia. We can sort it out together once we're all on the same page."

I nod, my stomach churning.