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HARRY

I thought he was going to cry.

I thought his legs might cave beneath him.

I wanted to rush to him and take him in my arms and lay his head against my chest and let his tears soak through my shirt. I was ready for my heart to soak up his pain.

But I was pretty sure Dean didn’t want my arms, or my chest, or my heart.

So instead, I opened the front door, juggling the gifts in my arms as I did, and gestured for him to come inside.

Dean had been inside my house only once before. He was maybe twelve or thirteen at the time, a skinny kid who had fallen off his bike on the way home from school. I happened to be driving by, so I picked him up, lifted his bike into the back of my truck, and drove him back to my place where I patched up his knee and gave him a hot chocolate before driving him home.

He was a good kid, my best friend’s kid, someone I would help and protect and care for because in a way he was family. But I saw nothing in him then other than a boy who was all skin and bones with shoes too big for his feet on account of the fact that Andy liked to buy him clothes he’d “grow into,” to save him forever buying new clothes for his constantly sprouting son.

It was long before Dean came of age.

It was long before Dean transformed.

It was long before I saw him as someone completely new and different and altogether… fuckable .

And yet, as hot as Dean was to me now, I knew my chances of touching him, kissing him, having him, were zero.

Hell, they were less than zero given the fact that the kid was a famous rock star.

Now that the two of us were alone in my house, I didn’t even know where to start except to say, “You want a hot chocolate? Whatever’s happened, will it help if I make a hot chocolate?”

Dean chuckled and I felt stupid. “Harry, I’m not a kid anymore.”

No, he wasn’t a kid at all.

Then he paused, rethinking his answer and quietly saying, “Actually, a hot chocolate would be… nice.”

I set all the gifts—his and mine—on the kitchen counter. “Marshmallow?” I’d never offered a famous rock star a marshmallow in his hot chocolate before. I felt stupid again.

“Oh yeah,” he smiled. “Yes please.”

I smiled back. “Two hot chocolates with marshmallows coming right up. Why don’t you take a seat on the sofa and relax.”

I heated milk and cocoa in the microwave.

I stirred in some sugar and plopped marshmallows into the mugs, letting them bob in the foamy milk.

I took our drinks to the sofa and handed one to him, then sat beside him.

We sipped.

“God that tastes good,” he said with froth on his top lip.

I grinned. “You have a little… here… let me.”

I touched my finger to his upper lip before I even knew what I was doing, gently wiping the foam away.

I didn’t quite know what to do with it after that, so I quickly put my finger in my mouth and sucked it off.

A hard-on sprang up so fast in my jeans it actually hurt .

I couldn’t help but glance down at his crotch, just to get a glimpse, hoping to fulfill the fantasy that there was something going on in his pants too. But his hands were in his lap, covering the one thing I wanted to see.

I raised my gaze quickly, shifting on the couch, stifling a grunt of pain… unsuccessfully.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. I’m… good. Burnt my tongue, that’s all. How are you? I know it’s none of my business but… do you wanna talk about that phone call?”

He looked down at the marshmallow bobbing in his hot chocolate and shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or uncertain or—

“Are you scared to talk about it? Dean, is something scaring you? Because if it is, I can kick whoever’s ass I need to kick.”

His face brightened as he looked up. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course I would,” I answered. Before adding, “You’re my best friend’s son. We’re family.”

The second it came out of my mouth I kicked myself.

Dean’s smile faded a little. “Yeah, we’re family. You’re like… an uncle to me.”

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 because I 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?’”

“I know someone’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 he could breathe, because I heard him crying.

I felt his hot, frightened breaths against my shoulder.

I ran my large fingers through his blond hair and cradled his head against the crook of my neck, listening as he uttered, “Harry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I told you all this. I never meant to…”

But I quietened him with slow rocking motions. “Shhh, it’s alright, Dean. I’m here for you. I’ll protect you no matter what. I’ll stop whoever’s doing this to you. I’ll make everything alright, I promise.”

He pulled his head from my neck to look at me. Tears had reddened his blue eyes. “You will?”

I nodded. “Oh yes. Oh God yes.”

I suddenly realized how close our faces were, his sweet teary breath mingling with mine.

I suddenly realized how intensely he was gazing into my eyes.

I suddenly realized I needed to kiss him.

I had to kiss him.

I… I…

I sat back. I pulled my fingers from his hair and clasped both his shoulders in my hands, like an uncle giving his nephew a reassuring squeeze for luck before a big game. “We’re going to get you through this. We’re going to make sure nobody hurts you. And we’re going to figure out who the hell is sending you those letters. Just tell me what I need to do first.”

He looked pained.

He looked bewildered.

Then he seemed to process his next steps, and with a nod of his head he said, “I think I need to find somewhere for Astrid and Bogdan to stay. Benji and Bastian’s is the only place in town. Do you… do you think you could drive me over there so I can book them in?”

“Of course.”

I moved to stand but he grabbed my arm. “Harry, I don’t want anyone to know about the letters. Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Especially not my dad.”

I wanted to hug him again.

I wanted to hold him in my arms till the end of time.

Instead, I simply nodded. “I promise.”