2. Zayden

Chapter two

Zayden

I have this overwhelming urge to chase after the handsome man fleeing from the tent.

The moment my eyes landed on him, standing in the middle of the food area, looking lost, I was intrigued. While everyone was rushing off to go see Monifex on the main stage, the handsome stranger just stood there as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

A feeling I could definitely relate to.

We clicked effortlessly, and I found myself wanting to hold his attention. I liked the fact that he didn't seem starstruck, despite wearing one of our band tees. I got the impression he was telling the truth when he said he couldn't read the script. Dallas always designed our shirts so that only true fans could read the band's name easily.

I wanted to ask for his name, but as soon as he mentioned having a boyfriend, I backed off a bit. I didn't need that type of fucking drama this weekend. No names meant I could pretend he was whoever I wanted him to be.

"You fucking killed it, man." Emery throws his arm around me, snapping me back to reality.

Dallas, our drummer, emerges from the crowd with a shit-eating grin. "Great show, Zayden."

"Thanks, man." I can tell he wants to say more, so I walk off the stage and into the staff-only area portion of the tent.

"Where the fuck were you earlier?" he whispers. "Your brother was freaking out!"

My thoughts wander back over to the handsome stranger with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. He's at least five years older than me, maybe more, but his presence totally screams ‘ Daddy vibes .' Yeah, he's exactly my type.

That electrifying buzz I get from performing vibrates in my veins. It doesn't matter if I'm performing for a crowd of thousands or a small and intimate crowd. The pleasant buzz is one I love to chase. When Carter messaged me during the set, asking me to sing our song, that sense of excitement grew. I pushed aside my nerves and performed something that was solely mine to a crowd for the first time—ever.

When I opened my eyes and saw that stranger entranced by my performance, I focused all my passion toward him, pretending he was my best friend, that he was my Carter; the man I've gotten to know from behind a screen.

Dallas nudges me. "Did you hear me? Your brother was freaking out when he saw you were missing."

"Sorry." I scrub a hand through my hair. "I just needed a break. After a year with all those damn bodyguards and extra security I wanted some alone time. Can't a guy just get something to eat?"

"Not when your brother thinks he saw our stalker earlier."

I frown. "What the fuck? They caught the bastard. Oscar's in jail. That fucker is going to be behind bars for a long time."

Dallas squeezes my shoulder. "He knows," he says in a hushed tone. "Mentally, Olly knows that, but his body has been reacting in fight-or-flight mode for so long."

"What does that mean?" My shoulders tense, ready to defend my twin.

Emery appears by my other side. "I think Dallas is trying to say that his body hasn't gotten the message yet, and sometimes our minds like to play tricks on us."

The words sink in. "Are you saying that my brother might have PTSD?"

Fucking Oscar Mendez, or whatever his real name is. Worst fucking decision of my life. Oscar was a roadie who was hired by our label. He'd flirt with me and I'd flirt back with the man every once in a while. But fuck, I flirted with everyone. About a year ago, his flirtations started becoming a little… aggressive.

I might be bisexual and can appreciate all body types, but there's something really sexy about a dominant man. Oscar knew that somehow and took advantage of that little tidbit. And one morning he seduced me. Timed it so my twin would walk in on us during the act. Turns out Oscar was secretly dating my brother.

I immediately kicked him out of our home and out of our lives. He was fired the same day. Only that didn't stop the psycho from leaving us alone. At first, he tried apologizing to Olly, explaining that he confused the two of us, since we were identical. We ignored his calls, praying he'd just get bored and move on. When neither of us would forgive him, he resorted to creepy as fuck letters, threats, and stalking.

Oscar was obsessed with the whole band, but he loved targeting Olly and me. But especially Olly.

About a month ago, they caught Oscar. Somehow, the FBI had gotten involved. Oscar wasn't his real name and apparently, we weren't the first celebrities Oscar terrorized. When Olly and I found out what he did to some of his other victims, we were just so fucking thankful we weren't hurt like some of the others.

"Where's Olly? I need to see him." My twin has always been the sense of reason, the glue that kept this band together. While the rest of us were off partying and flirting with anything that moved, Olly was working hard at keeping us in line and out of the media. Then, this stalker shit happened, and Olly hasn't been handling it well.

As much as I wish I could go back to the time before either of us met Oscar, I'm better off focusing on protecting my brother. "Where is he?" I ask again.

"In our tour bus."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm in the back room of our bus with my arms around my twin. He trembles in my embrace, and I swallow back the angry tears. That bastard did this to my brother. Seeing him struggle, despite that asshole being locked up, is fucking bullshit.

"I'm sorry," Olly whispers.

I pull out of his embrace, far enough so he can see the sincerity on my face. "This is not on you, Olly. This isn't your fault."

He nods, but I get the feeling he doesn't actually agree with my words. "I'm just as much to blame as you are, then."

Olly's face, so similar to mine, scrunches with anger. "No. This isn't your fault," he snaps.

My lips twitch. Of course, he wants to reassure me, but can't seem to do the same for himself. Reverting to acting how I know best, I grin. "Good, it sounds like we are in agreement, then. I knew one day you'd admit I was right. This isn't on either of us."

A small smile covers Olly's face. "Asshole," he jokes.

"Right, but you still love me. Now, let's count our fucking blessings and try to heal."

(June)

"Thanks again for setting this up, Noah." Ella Gray smiles at my brother, Noah, as she pushes back her office chair and she stands. Ella is the CEO of Dee Rama magazine. Despite its name, this fashion magazine isn't a tabloid. It's just as well respected as Vogue, Vanity Fair, and GQ .

Ella is a stunning woman with sharp cheekbones and looks that could kill. She pulls her high ponytail over one shoulder, and my eyes follow the movement before dropping to her luscious curves wrapped in that tight-as-sin pencil skirt.

Olly nudges me with his elbow, and I shoot him a playful grin. "What?" I mouth.

My twin just rolls his eyes.

My gaze wanders back over to my little brother. Noah has been wanting to work for Dee Rama magazine ever since he was a young teen. Now that he's all grown up with his fancy degree, it's nice to see him working for a company he loves.

Ella smiles our way. "Zayden, Olly, it was a pleasure. Noah, have fun on your cruise." She waves a finger between the three of us. "I'll give you two some time to catch up with my favorite employee."

I stand. "Nonsense, Ella," I purr, laying on the charm. "I see my brothers all the time. Why don't I take you out to lunch instead?"

Noah narrows his eyes on me and I give my head a little shake, silently looking at Olly. Noah must get the hint and starts talking to Olly while I convince Ella to eat with me. As we walk out of the conference room, Olly glances back over at me and I wink as I hover my hand over the small of Ella's back.

I don't actually plan on touching her, but I need my brother to think I'm back to my old, flirty ways. My therapist, who has been helping me in the aftermath of our stalker, believes that Olly needs some sense of normalcy. What's more normal than me flirting with a beautiful woman the way I used to before meeting Oscar?

Ella leads the way and I spot Olly and Noah studying us through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Out of habit, I say something flirty to Ella, but for the life of me, I can't tell you what I said.

Ella's grin doesn't falter. "I'm not sleeping with you," she says easily, as if talking about how sunny it is outside.

I give her a flirty smirk and lean in close. To anyone else observing us, it might look like I'm whispering sweet nothings into her ear. "Good. Promise?" I ask in a similarly casual tone.

She throws her head back and laughs. "Oh, there's a story here."

Does she know how hot she is? When she continues to laugh, several people in the office watch her with awe. She's powerful, stunning, and definitely screams dominate in bed, but I feel absolutely nothing.

Silently, I glance her way before cocking my brow.

She arches her eyebrow in return. "Okay, Mr. Famous Rockstar, who supposedly sleeps with every attractive person out there, I'll bite."

My lips twitch. Oh yeah, Ella Gray knows she's hot.

"So, why do you want me to promise I won't sleep with you?"

The old me would have hooked up with Ella in a heartbeat. Well, at least I would have tried. I get the feeling she meant it when she said she wasn't sleeping with me. But fuck, that would have turned me on even more. I used to love a good challenge.

We enter the elevator as soon as the door opens, and I jab the lobby button before leaning against the railing. I let out a deep sigh and tip my head up to the ceiling. It's like my body held onto all my stress, and now that the Dee Rama interview is over, it's being released like a deflating balloon.

"Zayden, are you okay?" she asks, voice soft. Her fingers touch my hand lightly, before pulling away. Comforting yet still professional enough.

I sigh again. "I'm good. It's just been a rough year."

"It sounds like it." She offers me a soft smile. "Let's chat over lunch. Come on, I have the perfect place."

She might be my little brother's boss, but she's still the very successful CEO of one of the most popular fashion magazines. Journalism is in her blood. I have several celebrity friends who work exclusively with Ella Gray because of her work ethic, but just in case, I text Noah.

Zayden: How trustworthy is Ella? If I accidentally tell her something or disclose something to her, will it end up in next month's article?

Noah: She's very trustworthy. The woman is like a steel vault.

Noah: Just make sure you are very clear that anything you say is off the record.

For a moment, my index finger hovers over my messenger app. The temptation to send Carter a message is strong.

The elevator door dings and slides open, startling me out of my thoughts. I shove my phone back into my pocket and follow Ella out of the building.

We pass the parking lot and I'm shocked when Ella walks further down the street in her high heels.

"We're not driving?" I ask, glancing around, half expecting the paparazzi to jump out of the bushes.

"No." She grins. "It's just two buildings over. How do you feel about subs?"

My stomach growls and I laugh. "Yeah, I can go for a sandwich."

"Good. We can take them to the park; it's the perfect place to enjoy them without anyone listening in."

I arch a brow. When was the last time I ate at the park? Fuck, when was the last time people left me alone long enough to eat outside?

As if sensing my thoughts, Ella speaks up. "No need to worry about paparazzi here. Olivia Cove is known for its privacy. You aren't the biggest celebrity currently in our small town."

I give her a grateful smile. "Noah told Olly and me the same thing. Sounds too good to be true."

As soon as we are seated on a park bench with our freshly made sandwiches, Ella asks me again how I'm doing. "I mean, how are you really doing? The media has painted you as this easygoing playboy. All charm and smiles. But after everything you and your brother have been through, first with the back-to-back tours, the fame, and then the stalker, I can easily say the media has you pegged wrong."

I nod, slowly chewing my first bite before answering. "That might have been me once. Hell, I wish it still was. But I always had my twin to keep me in line. To keep the band in line. Then this stalker bullshit happened."

Letting out a heavy breath, I glance at Ella. "Is this off the record?"

"It is. You can trust me, Zayden. The only things that will touch my article will be the things we discussed during the interview. It's rare for me to set aside my CEO hat and write something, but when I do, I make sure each article is an important one. And Olly's story is not something to splash all over a tabloid."

"It really isn't." I like that once Olly and I opened up to Ella, she understood that not only was it important to tell our story before someone else printed lies, but it's also important for people, like Olly, who might deal with PTSD or anxiety, know that they can get help. That there are others—even celebrities—who are dealing with the demons life has to offer.

Noah reassured me that his boss would write the story the way we want it written. If we could have gotten away with never mentioning Oscar again, I'm sure we would have. Unfortunately, there have been several incidents where Olly was triggered. Once, he thought he saw Oscar in a crowd, another time at the store. The worst episode was last week, when we were performing in front of thousands, and Olly saw a man who looked so much like Oscar, even I did a double take. The next thing I knew, my brother was curled up in the fetal position. Photos and videos went viral and speculation on whether Olly was on drugs started to surface.

Olly doesn't do drugs. Ever. And I couldn't stand the media bad-mouthing him. In short, we reached out to Noah to find a trusted person to write our story. Someone who would report our truth before it got twisted.

"To answer your question, I'm fine. Just worried. Olly has always been the good twin. The serious one. While I'm the carefree, flirty brother. But now, with my brother struggling, I've been working hard to show everyone I've grown up. I've had some hard truths hit me this past year. For one, I can't—and probably shouldn't—always rely on my brother. Second, I want him to feel comfortable enough to come to me for once. It's why I encouraged him to do the interview with you."

Ella leans over and pats my hand. "Thank you for trusting me with your story, Zayden."

I look her in the eye and pour as much sincerity as I can into my words. "It's not just our story we're trusting you with, Ella. This is my brother's life."

Olly and I might be the same age, but my brother deserves me to be there for him the way he was for me. If he needs a helping hand, or a shoulder to cry on, I want to be there. If he needs a clutch to hold him up, then I'll sure as fuck hold him up. Whatever he needs.

We finish our sandwiches while we chat, and the more we get to know each other, the more I realize I like Ella. Besides Carter, it's been a long time since I've had a friend outside of my family or band. When I finish my last bite, I pull out my phone and tap on the messenger app. No new messages.

Ella crumples up her wrapper and leans forward on the bench. Like a pro shooting a free throw, she tosses it right into the trash bin that's several feet away.

"Nice shot!"

She laughs. Ella's eyes drop to my phone and she waves a finger at it. "So, who's got you checking that thing every few minutes?"

"What?" I blink up at her, shocked.

"On your phone. You keep opening that same app and checking the messages. Every time you see it's blank, you frown."

Damn journalist skills. I didn't even realize I was doing it. I give her a sheepish smile. "Off the record?"

"Off the record," she agrees with a grin. "Now, freaking spill. Is it a girl? Or maybe a guy?"

"How—how did you know?"

She chuckles. "You have that hopeful puppy dog look my son gets when he's talking to his boyfriend."

My mouth drops open in shock. Ella has a son who's old enough to have a boyfriend? I study the beautiful woman again. She looks like she's my age, in her late thirties. Maybe forty tops. I'm half tempted to ask her how old she is, but I'm a mother-fucking gentleman.

Ella barks out a laugh. "The look on your damn face. I just turned fifty. Victor, my son, is twenty-five. You can do the math."

I blink. "Wow! You've gotta tell me your secret. I thought you were my age."

"You really are a flirt." She pushes my arm playfully. "Now, tell me all about this person who has you waiting by your phone like an eager puppy."

Shaking my head at her words, I bite back a smile. Damn it. I can't even deny it. I probably do look like an eager-as-fuck puppy. So, I tell her.

I tell her everything.

I tell Ella Gray, CEO and journalist of Dee Rama Magazine, all about my online mystery man. I tell her all about how Carter and I met, to how we became friends. I tell her how personal our conversations got, and how I've somehow kept my identity a secret—but despite that, Carter knows who I am in my heart. He's my best friend.

The man I've fallen for.

Eventually, I tell her about the song I wrote for him and even confess that I sang it to a stranger at Rocktoberfest, pretending it was him. She immediately recognizes the song because, of course, it went viral that day. Even I could see the emotion pouring off of me in waves when I played back the videos. I meant every word. And somehow I know that song going viral has to be the reason Carter has pulled away from me over the last few months. We still talk, but it isn't the same. He's holding me at a distance. He knows. Somehow he has to know it's me.

Carter told me to sing our song that weekend, and I did just that. I sang my heart out.

The entire time I'm talking to Ella, I take comfort in the fact I know she won't publish a word. All the while, another part of me secretly hopes she will, if it will bring my Carter back to me, but in real life.