THIRTY NINE

Ronan

Justine stumbles over the question. My mind tracks back to the awful dejected look on her face in that exit interview, so I know exactly why.

"Well, I wasn't feeling great when the show ended." She pauses, swallowing thickly. "I guess I've had some time to reflect since then, and I'm so glad I went on."

"But?" Tabitha gives her a knowing look.

I silently pray Justine sticks to the script and doesn't mention what an ass I was to her. My team were kind in their edit. Of course, they were. They all want to keep their jobs.

I watched the footage back. All of it.

I deserved far worse.

I'm lucky she was so patient with me or I would have made a complete mess of the board's direction to improve my public image. I did my best, anyway. She's too forgiving.

"But I"—Justine looks around at me, chewing her lip—"My perspective has changed since then." Her cheeks color and I have to hold back my smile.

I hope I've done a little to redeem myself in the last few months.

Tabitha's brows shoot up and she looks between us. "Oh! Has something happened between you two to change your perspective, Justine? When the show ended, it looked like that was it for the two of you, but from what I hear you've been spotted together. So does this mean the rumors are true that you're an item?"

When Justine stammers, I cut in. "It's true that we formed a connection while we were filming—"

There's a ‘oooooh' from the audience and I have to restrain my urge to roll my eyes.

"And we've stayed friends." The last word is firm, hoping to draw a line under this line of questioning.

"Awwww. Only friends?" Tabitha looks disappointed. "You know I was definitely shipping you guys. So does that mean you're dating other people now?"

"No." We both answer at once. Justine glances at me under her lashes.

Tabitha raises a brow. "Oh, so let me get this straight. You're both ‘friends'"—she makes an irritating motion with her hands to show her disbelief of this—"but neither of you is dating?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "I don't date. There's not enough time in my schedule for that."

Tabitha turns to Justine. "Well, what about you? You must have received so much attention after the show finished. I'm sure there are lots of lovely young men and monsters lining up for an introduction."

"Absolutely not!" I glare at Tabitha and they both look around at me in surprise. I'm seething. I've got half a mind to cut this interview short and walk out. After all, Tabitha still works for me. She'd do well to remember that.

I breathe in through my nose, keeping hold of my temper for now. She's just doing her job. No need for me to be irrational.

No need for her to go on about it, though.

Despite my frosty glare, she does, though. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous, Ronan. You're just friends, right?"

I let out a hot huff of breath. "Friends look out for each other. I just don't want to see her hurt by some asshole who is only interested getting famous by dating her."

Justine shoots me a hurt look.

I soften. "Not that she's not worth dating, but you know how people are."

Tabitha frowns. "So let me get this straight, you think she's worth dating, but you don't want to date her. And you don't want anyone else to date her either? Seems unfair to me."

I open my mouth, but for once I can't think of any retort.

Tabitha continues writing out her resignation. "So she's supposed to what? To wait for you forever? No deal!" She turns back to Justine. "I say get out there! Have some fun. And you just might find that prince charming you're waiting for. After all there's a reason you went on the show, right?"

Justine nods. She's not looking at me anymore, and it's not lost on me the way her lip trembles.

"You want to get married, don't you?"

Justine nods.

"And you want a family?"

She nods again. Then she covers her mouth with a shaking hand. "I-I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Before I can stop her, Justine gets to her feet and rushes off stage.

"What have you done?" I snarl at Tabitha.

The werewolf raises her hands with an infuriatingly innocent look on her face. "Hey, I just say it like it is. Ask the questions we all want answers to. Seems like Justine wanted some of those answers, too."

I crane my neck, but I've lost sight of Justine.

"You're just stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

Where has Justine run off to? I don't like that she's been upset by this. I need to find her and explain.

Quite frankly, I just need her near me.

I should be trying harder to put out the fire on the burning wreckage of my public image. Right now, I don't give a fuck about that. "This interview is over." I get to my feet. Behind the camera, Reggie, my centaur director, is waving frantically at me to sit back down.

I give him the same glare I gave Tabitha. "There will be a meeting Wednesday morning and you will account for your actions today. The whole lot of you." I gesture wildly at the whole production team. "And so help me, if I'm not satisfied with your answers, heads will roll."

That shuts them up.

No one says a word as I storm off set, striding past alarmed crew and through tight corridors to the dressing rooms. I pass mine, searching the hallway for the one marked with Justine's name.

When I burst through the door, the room is empty.

Fuck.

Where is she? She can't have had time to get changed. She would hardly have had time to get her things.

I storm back down the hall, heading for the back entrance. My chest is tight. My head throbs with an oncoming headache and my tail swishes behind me. I feel like turning and putting a horn through the wall, but I somehow restrain myself.

A terrified assistant darts out of my way as I round the corner.

I catch her scent in the air. It's bitter with anger and disappointment, rather than sweet like it should be. I curse. Doesn't she understand I'm giving her as much as I can?

I should have explained it better. Told her how my heart is damaged in more than one way. I can't give myself to someone completely. Not like that.

Not when I could be snatched from them—from a family—at any moment and leave them bereft like my father left me.

My chest burns and my hooves clatter over the floor as I race the final steps. I call out to her when I spot her pushing open the fire exit, but my voice is drowned out by the sudden blare of a wailing alarm. "Justine!"

She doesn't stop. She shoves open that door and stumbles out onto the back alley behind the studio.

I push my way out after her. "Justine!"

This time she glances back.

"Stop!"

She keeps going, her hurried steps tripping into a run.

"Come back and talk to me. Don't you dare run out on me!" My bellow echoes around the dingy alley, bouncing back in my face until I'm finally forced to hear myself.

It's not a comfortable feeling.

Thank fuck, she stops. When she turns, she's brushing tears from a reddened face, her mascara already blurring beneath her eyes. "I'm not running out, though, am I?" She sniffs.

"Sure as hell looks like it to me!" My heart is pounding. My arm tingles and my fists clench with pent up anger.

"That's just it, though, Ronan. We're just friends. So it might look like I'm running out on you, but there's nothing to run out on. We're not an item, are we?"

I reel back and my hoof crashes against a trash bin. "You know what we are."

She shakes her head. "I don't think I do anymore. At least my heart doesn't. I can't be just friends with you. Or friends with benefits or lovers or whatever you want to call it. The way you hold me and touch me, I can't! I'll always want more than that."

Tears stream down her cheeks.

She looks so goddamn fragile I want to gather her into my arms and stop her tears, but I have to listen to what she's saying.

"You know my reasons, Justine. My father—"

She cuts me off. "I know about your father, Ronan, but that doesn't stop me wanting you. It only stops you wanting me, and that hurts."

I'm vaguely aware of a shout in the distance. I barely register a crowd of people and monsters gathering around us. People who have no doubt been waiting outside the studio collect to see what the fuss is. A flash of a photograph.

I can't look. All I can see is the distress on Justine's face.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," she goes on. "But the longer I've known you, the more you've taught me to ask for what I need. So I can't stay silent anymore."

Fuck.

That's exactly what I wanted for her. I never thought about how those things applied to me. To how I treat her.

I wish I knew what to say. I'm finding it harder to breathe, let alone speak.

"So I'm asking, Ronan. Can we be more than friends? More than just casual lovers? Because that's what I need."

I rub my arm to shake the cold tingling feeling. The tips of my fingers feel numb. "Justine, I—" I what? I can't give her what she needs. Only, I'm too selfish to let her go. That's been my problem all along.

I take a step closer, longing to hold her. "Let's talk about this. It doesn't have to be so black and white."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Ronan. For me it does."

She turns and hurries away from me.

I'll be damned if I let her leave things like this. The thought physically repulses me. My body rebels against it, thrusting me forward in pursuit. When I try to follow her, though, my path is blocked, the crowd surging around her and in front of me.

"You heard the woman," a sneering goblin woman says, pointing her bony finger in my face. "She's had enough!"

"Get out of my way!" I push past her, but a tall man in a heavy overcoat blocks my way.

"You really fucked that up, buddy." He shakes his head.

What the hell is these people's problem? Why can't they mind their own business?

My chest is heaving as I try to find a way through the crowd. At every step, the press of people grows thicker and the tightness under my sternum gets worse. "Move aside!"

They ignore me.

I'm debating the legal ramifications of simply pushing my way through, but by now, Justine is long gone. Swallowed by the crowd of idiotic onlookers. I've fucking lost her. This is ridiculous. She's just overreacting. That's all. Once she's calmed down, I'll be able to talk to her about this and reason with her.

Only, I've never seen her look so sure of herself—or of me. And she's damned well right. She should be able to ask for what she wants. She deserves to get it!

Fuck!

A vision of my life without Justine makes a cold sweat break out at the back of my neck. I can't wait and let her talk herself out of ever seeing me again. How is it possible I never realized until right now she's as essential as the damn air I breathe?

Long days. Too many hours in my office. More paperwork when I get home. Emails far into the night. Lying awake unable to sleep, but desperate for rest.

Worse—waking from whatever sleep I get only to miss her scent and the feel of her soft body cuddled against mine.

My vision blacks.

I stumble, catching myself against the brick wall.

The pain in my chest is unbearable for a heart-wrenching few seconds. The pain in my heart.

Not now. Not like this!

I barely manage to pull out my phone and dial 911.