He takes the flowers from me as I unlock the door and disable the alarm. Once we’re inside, I put the flowers in a vase with some water, and he seems to be taking note of how many vases of flowers there are now. “What does the card mean? I figured it was a fan of Dad’s, and since I love yellow tulips, I’ve kept them.”
“I’m not sure what it means.” His eyes flicker down to his feet, and I swallow down the disappointment I feel. I know he’s lying to me.
What is it with these guys constantly lying to me?
I shrug and move to the refrigerator, pulling out one of the meals Mrs. Potts put together for me, shoving it in the microwave to heat since I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Lasagna for breakfast would probably send Smithy into a conniption fit, but he isn’t here right now. “Fair enough. Well if that’s all, I’m going to eat, shower, and head to bed. Thank you for dealing with Blair.”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be at home if you need anything.”
He comes over and kisses my forehead before turning and leaving out the front. The roar of his engine fills the space and I let out deep breath. I thought we’d come leaps and bounds, especially after our not-quite-date night earlier this week, but now I feel like we’ve taken about ten steps back.
One day I’ll figure out what the fuck’s going on around here, but today’s not that day. Today calls for sleep, food, and not leaving my bed.
Absolute perfection.
* * *
I wake up to someone pounding on the front door, and I scramble from my bed, half asleep still. My feet clap against the hard wood of the stairs as I rush downstairs. My brain is hazy, but I have enough wits about me to wonder what the fuck is going on. I try to not care about my somewhat feral appearance as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window as I rush to the door.
I open the door ready to yell, and I find a stoney-faced Mac standing in front of me. Thank God I showered before I slept. “Uhm, hi?”
I blink a couple of times, and he stands there, silent, with his arms folded across his chest.
“What are you doing here?”
“Let me in, Octavia.” His voice is low and rumbly, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard my dad’s old head of security sound so mad. I step aside without question and wave him in. That’s when I notice a few paparazzi camped out by the gates.
Fucking awesome. This is just what I wanted.
I groan as I move to shut the door. I’m super tempted to flip them all the bird. A picture of me looking like this and acting like that, would be worth more money than I want any of them to have. So I resist the urge and lock the door once Mac’s in the house.
“What the hell’s going on around here, V?” Mac’s voice booms through the entry hall, and I wince at the volume of his apparent anger. “Five years you were under my watch, and not once did anything like this happen. Less than three months away, and you’ve been in the media more times than I care to count. The latest being pictures of your arrest.”
“Okay, look, I can see that you’re mad, but how about you tone it down a little, and I’ll explain. Coffee?” I walk toward the kitchen without waiting for a response from him. If I’m going to get a dressing down from a disappointed Mac, I need coffee to make it through. I pour myself a mug from the pot I brewed before my nap and pour him one too before sitting down and waiting for him to catch up.
What is it with all of the men in my life generating their big dick energy in my direction? I’m tired of being everyone’s go-to to be pissed at.
“You had better start explaining, Octavia, otherwise I’m either pulling you from this place or moving in. Because something isn’t working.” He leans against the wall, arms folded, and I sigh. I don’t technically owe him an explanation, and he doesn’t have the power to make me leave; but he helped raise me, so I understand some of his frustration.
I walk him through everything that’s happened since I got home, and I wish I could say that it abates his anger, but at least it’s redirected for the time being.
“These boys need to be taught a thing or two,” he growls before finally sitting down and drinking the tepid coffee.
I bark out a laugh at the thought of him dealing with the four of them. “I’m not sure you’d do anything but give yourself high blood pressure and a potential heart attack. The four of them aren’t really big on the whole authority figure thing.”
He huffs a dry laugh and leans forward on the counter. “That sounds like they need a swift kick up the ass. But since I’m here, what can I do to help with this mess?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure there’s much to do besides ride it out. Smithy’s had the security increased on this place, and you’re welcome to have a look around to make sure it’s up to your liking. But beyond that, I’m kind of keeping myself on the down low as much as I can.” I smile sadly at him and clutch the coffee cup in both my hands, hating how helpless it all sounds. I always thought I was a bad bitch, but being back in Echoes Cove is testing every single thing I ever thought to be true.
He stands, circling the island to wrap me up in those giant arms of his, making me feel like a little girl again. The fatherly comfort that radiates from him nearly makes me cry, and it hits me once again how alone I’ve really been without my dad around. There’s nothing like being an orphan with literally no family left in the world—and my mom doesn’t count because she left. She’s never coming back, and I’ve made my peace with that.
“Let me take a look at your security system, and if anything’s lacking, I’ll sort it out. I wish there was more that I could do.”
I squeeze him a little tighter before letting go. “You’re here. That counts. But you have other people that need your special brand of protection now. I’m a big girl, and I have big walls here. I’ll survive. It’s not like I have a few thousand fans trying to break into my tour bus.” I laugh at the memory of Mac trying to wrestle the door to the bus shut as a bunch of teenage girls tried to get to my dad. In the moment, it was terrifying, but looking back, it was kind of funny too.
He shakes his head, chuckling a little as he rubs a hand down his face. “Teenage girls are way more feral than anyone gives them credit for.”
* * *