He had just wanted money, after all.
“I can have him investigated,” Dale offered. “I mean, he could still be who he says.”
“I don’t care.” I tossed the paper on the floor. “He never wanted me, whoever he is. He only wanted to take advantage of you.”
“I’m sorry, Sara.” He gathered me in and I fit myself against him, soft curves melting into sharp angles.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have listened to you,” I murmured. “Let’s go home. I want a do-over on this day.”
But the worst part of the day was yet to come.
Chrissy was gone with her new found friends to the local mall but John was waiting for us, looking concerned.
“We’re fine.” I assured him, giving him a long, long hug when we got into the door.
“You got a phone call.” He hugged me back. “I told him you’d call back.”
“I don’t want to talk to Ben,” I replied wearily, disengaging myself and heading toward the stairs. “I want to go back to bed.”
“It wasn’t Ben,” John said, glancing over at Dale. He still looked very worried. “It was the prosecutor’s office.”
I froze.
“What did they want?” Dale grabbed my hand.
“Your stepfather…” John met my eyes and I felt everything inside me turn to ice water. “Peter Holmes is getting out of jail. Parolled. Time served for good behavior.”
“Good behavior?” I laughed. The irony was too painful to bear.
“Sara?” John called as I turned, zombie-like, and started up the stairs. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I called back in a little voice. “I’m just going to take a nap.”
Dale followed me up the stairs. He helped me undress. I seemed to have forgotten how to unbutton and unzip things. Then he took off his pants and got in, spooning behind me.
“He’s going to find me,” I whispered to the wall.
“No.” Dale stroked my hair. “The reporters couldn’t even find us, remember?”
“Ben found me.” I closed my eyes, feeling tears slip down onto the pillow.
“I’ll protect you.” His arms tightened, enfolding me. “I promise.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I nodded, but I knew better.
We couldn’t protect each other, not all of the time, even the people we loved the most. Sometimes things happened. Sometimes they were very, very bad things, and nothing we did or said could stop them from happening.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The tour started in Florida. That irony didn’t escape me, since Ben was from Florida. He’d called several times but I told John to tell him I wasn’t home and I had left without saying goodbye. We flew down in the record company’s private jet. I told Dale I didn’t want to be his Yoko, but things had already gotten off to a rocky start. The members of Black Diamond had never liked me. I distracted Dale too much from the band. Which, early on, I had to admit was true, but it wasn’t true anymore. Well, it wasn’t as true.
It was the lead guitarist, Rick—I called him a Dale wannabe when Dale wasn’t around—who was the biggest problem. He said if Dale could bring me, then he could bring his wife and kid. I didn’t even know he had a kid. So Greg had solved the problem by giving me a job on the tour. I was in charge of fashion and style.
“You went to art school, right?” Greg had asked. “Good. Make them into rock gods.”