Page 37 of When the Stars Rise

“Maybe you should ask her.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “Tell me what the fuck happened,” I grit out.

Dean sighs and throws down some cash for our drinks, then gestures for me to follow him.

He doesn’t speak until we’re upstairs on the balcony of his suite, where we have some privacy.

He drops into a cushioned lounger while I lean against the railing. I’m not planning to stay long. I just want to hear the story. He lights another cigarette and takes a drag, blowing smoke into the night air before speaking.

“We were in London for a week. The paparazzi figured out where she was staying. She couldn’t even leave the hotel without those vultures preying on her. Everywhere she went she was being chased by at least twelve cars. But this one guy was relentless. Followed her everywhere and even tried to break into her hotel room. Chris had to physically restrain him. Warned him to back the fuck off. The asshole didn’t listen. Not only was he a freelance photographer trying to get the money shots, but he was under the delusion that he and Hayley were dating, and she was going to be his wife. Turns out he was the guy sending her all those gifts and letters—”

“Gifts and letters?”

“Flowers. Stuffed animals. Love letters if you could call them that. Poetry he wrote for her. Graphic descriptions of what he would do when they were finally together.”

My stomach churns. He doesn’t have to spell it out for me to read between the lines—the graphic descriptions were sexual.

“He’s been following her for a while. Over a year now. She made the mistake of being nice to him on the festival tour last summer. But when we got to London a few weeks ago, it all escalated and he made some threats,” Dean says. “Said that if she doesn’t meet with him privately, he’s going to kill himself.”

My head snaps up. “Don’t fucking tell me she met with this psycho.”

“I hired extra security to keep her safe,” he continues. “We didn’t want him anywhere near her. A few days in, we had to get to Wembley and the guy ran into the street, chasing after our SUV. Wasn’t looking where he was going and got hit by a car. Hayley saw the whole thing,” Dean adds. “The asshole didn’t die. Just got banged up pretty bad. Hayley tried to get out of the car to help but we wouldn’t let her.”

“Fucking hell.” I’m more worried about how Hayley is handling all this than whatever happened to that guy.

“She spoke to the cops and said the guy needs a psychological evaluation. Said he needed help, not jail time. In the end, the fucker got what he wanted. Hayley snuck into the hospital to visit him, and he got five minutes of her undivided attention.”

Dean shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Said she couldn’t have someone’s death on her hands.”

What the fuck?What were you thinking, Hayley?

I wouldn’t know because she hadn’t mentioned a word of this. “You let her see him?”

He shoots me a glare. “I didn’tlether do anything.” Dean crushes his cigarette in a crystal ashtray filled with butts and leans back in his seat. “Hayley can be stubborn. Went behind my back knowing I wouldn’t approve. The only consolation is that she got security to accompany her.”

I’m trying to wrap my head around this, but I can’t. It all sounds so far-fetched but ever since Hayley was catapulted into the limelight, she’s had to deal with this kind of shit every day. The paparazzi. The media.Stalkers.

“At first I thought she was handling it all really well,” Dean muses.

“How could you ever think she’d handle being stalkedreally well?” I ask incredulously.

And then to see that same asshole get run over on a street in London? That had to fuck with her head.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know. On the outside, she appeared calm. Too calm. Whenever I tried to talk to her about it, she said she was fine. And then it all caught up to her and she ended up in the goddamn hospital.”

“Hayley’s always done that,” I say, gazing at the New York City skyline until the lights blur. “Ever since we were kids, she would pretend she was fine even when she wasn’t. She shoves it deep inside, and then, out of the blue, bam! It hits her hard. Even after the accident, she never wanted to talk about it. She wouldn’t even mention her parents. Everyone thought she was doing so well, but she wasn’t. She was just blocking it all out.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I got that. That’s why her music is so damn good. If you want to know Hayley, truly know her, just listen to her music, and it’s all there. She writes her life story in lyrics and notes.”

He pauses a beat, eyes narrowed in thought. “That’s why she moved in with me, you know. She needed time and space to write her story, and she needed the freedom to go through all the emotions she needed to get to the other side.”

“She had the freedom to do that back in Texas.” I don’t bother hiding the edge in my tone.

“Did she?” His gaze never wavers from my face.

I rub my hand over my jaw. Maybe not. Thinking back, she didn’t have that kind of freedom. Everyone was so worried about her, and while my family means well, sometimes their love can be a bit overwhelming.

The McCallisters are a lot more demonstrative and physical than the Petersons were and after the accident, my family smothered her with love.