Page 30 of Save Your Breath

“Alright,” Rina said, clapping her hands and snapping right into action. “Let’s get you to your dressing room, shall we?”

“Hello, Miss Love,” a young woman said, extending her hand for Mia’s. I still had a protective hold on her, but Mia smiled up at me and slid out of my embrace to greet the woman. “It’s so lovely to have you back at Rockefeller. If you’ll come this way, we have a room all ready for you.”

I didn’t realize my hand was still clamped hard around hers until Mia tried to walk and was halted by my grip.

She startled, turning back to me with a sleepy smile. Her hair was a fucking mess, her face showing clear signs of exhaustion. And yet, she smiled with ease, with confidence, with a silent promise to me that she was ready, that she was excited for this.

“You look a bit pale there, Suter,” she teased. “See one of your many exes in that crowd?”

“More like a line of men begging to be my new punching bags.”

“Don’t mind them. I never do.”

My brows dipped farther.

How long had she put up with that shit?

How did any man think it was okay to behave that way toward a woman?

“Is it always like that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Not always. There’s usually a better barrier, and a lot of times people gather around to take pictures or ask their questions, but they keep a safe distance. But…” She tilted her head side to side. “All it takes is one person pushing in, getting closer, to give everyone else permission to do the same.”

My jaw tensed.

The brazen fucking audacity of people to think they had the right to do that to her, toanyone.

I was two seconds away from telling her I was resigning from hockey and joining her security team when she chuckled a bit. “I’m good,” she promised, squeezing my hand — which made me realize I still held hers in a vise grip. “See you after the show?”

Reluctantly, I nodded, my throat tight as I released her.

She held my gaze for a long moment over her shoulder as Rina, Glo, and the young show runner walked her toward an elevator. Her security team still surrounded her, which made me feel marginally better. Only once I saw Mia laugh at something Glo said did I feel the lock on my chest release.

“Nowthatwas a good show,” Isabella whispered as she passed by me, squeezing my arm. Her eyes were on her phone as she tapped away on the screen. “The Internet is already losing their minds.”

She winked as she walked backward toward the elevator where they were holding it for her.

“Hang down here with Marci and she’ll get you settled. See you later, you heartthrob, you.” I didn’t know who Marci was, but I assumed she was someone’s assistant with how she smiled gently and waved at me, an iPad clutched in her arms.

With one last flourish of her hand, Isabella and that half of the team were gone, but her words still played in my head.

A good show.

Yeah.

Because that was all it was.

• • •

I watched Mia’s interview and performance from the back row of a packed audience.

The show was one that was pre-recorded, but that didn’t take anything away from the palpable energy from a crowd that was beyond excited to be the first to hear her new single performed live. They had to do a few takes just to ensure they could actuallyhear Mia over the screams and the fans singing along to the song — a song that had just released less than a week ago, in between the time the news of our “relationship” had broke and this performance.

The fans knew all the lyrics, already.

I took it all in with my sunglasses on, arms folded, and back leaning against the wall. I was thankful that most of the attention was on her and no one seemed to really notice me. Although, I didn’t miss the fans who thought they were slick recording me on their phone from the back couple of rows.

I liked the new song. It was poppy enough to sound like her old albums, but with a deeper edge somehow, a maturity that felt new and fresh for her. It reminded me of the songs she’d write in her bedroom when we were younger, the ones she’d sing only when she thought no one else was home. Except this was more of a bop, of course — and I knew that was on purpose.