Recovery

FREYA

“Come on, say it,” Liam teased, stroking my hair. “You can’t lie to me.”

We were lying together in my tiny hospital bed, Liam’s arms wrapped tightly around me as if he was afraid of letting go.

“Fine,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “I missed you.” I watched the corners of his mouth curl up in satisfaction. “But only a little.”

We both grew silent, reveling in the moment.

I knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Eventually his life would kick back in.

The celebrity would creep beneath his skin again.

He had obligations. A career. Places to be. And I couldn’t fault him for that.

But these moments, the brief glimpses of a normal life—of the man behind the lights—were becoming precious to me.

“You still haven’t told me what happened,” Liam said quietly.

I stiffened.

“What do you mean?” My voice was unnaturally high—a fact I was sure he would notice.

“You know what I mean,” Liam replied.

“I…”

The truth was, I didn’t know whether I was ready to tell Liam about the stalker. Or maybe I wasn’t sure whether he should hear it.

Sure, Liam seemed fine at the moment.

Stable, even.

But I still feared that the slightest provocation could send him spiraling.

And with the tour, the increased media attention, and everything else, it didn’t feel like the right time.

“Yes, I did,” I insisted. “I was in a hurry and I slipped.”

Liam curled into my side, not saying another word, and an uncomfortable silence filled the air.

“So what about the tour?” I inquired, trying to change the subject.

“I’m not going to leave you again…I’ll just have to cancel it,” he responded matter-of-factly.

I sat up in bed. “~Cancel~ it?”

He shrugged his shoulders, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers.

“Liam Henderson, you cannot cancel your tour,” I insisted.

The thought of cancelling something so big just because of me felt ~wrong~.

Thousands upon thousands of people had saved their money to see Liam perform.

And he was just going to let all of them down.

For me.

“Why can’t I?” he muttered.

“Because you made a commitment to your fans,” I said. “Because they trust you, and you can’t betray that trust.”

“Freya,” Liam murmured, taking both of my hands, “I wasn’t here when you needed me. But I am now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.” I slid my hands from his grasp and pulled away.

“What do you mean, no?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I reject your decision to stay here and cancel the European tour for me,” I replied defiantly.

“You…reject?” Liam snorted, wrapping his arms around me and planting a kiss on my cheek.

“I mean it!” I exclaimed. “You’re going back on tour. And you’re not going to use me as an excuse.”

“You’re bossy,” he murmured, inching closer to me.

“~I’m~ bossy?” I scoffed.

“Fine,” Liam muttered, stroking my collarbone with his thumb. “I’ll go back. In a few days. After I know you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, his head buried into my skin. “Sure you are.”

As Liam cradled me in his arms, I felt myself drifting off into sleep once again.

It was a euphoric sleep—the kind that comes on slowly when you’re utterly exhausted, and for a while you can’t discern the dreamland from reality.

I supposed there wasn’t much of a difference, really.

Falling asleep in Liam’s arms, feeling his slowing heartbeat as he drifted off, was its own sort of dream.

And I never wanted to wake up.

Luce

Have you seen this morning’s headlines?

Liam

I just woke up

Luce

What the fuck, Liam?

Luce

Freya knows she’s supposed to keep us updated on this kind of thing.

Luce

Who is this guy?

Liam

What guy??

Luce

Sending you the link now.

Luce

We need to clean this up ASAP

An overwhelming feeling of dread consumed me as I waited for Lucinda to send me the link to whichever nauseating tabloid was currently making my life hell.

~It’s probably some bullshit story.~

They usually were—some journalist pig trying to make something out of nothing.

My phone vibrated as Luce sent me the link, and I begrudgingly clicked to open it.

NY Chatter

Liam Henderson Love Triangle?

While the cat’s away, the mice will play! Onlookers yesterday morning witnessed Liam Henderson’s flavor of the month in a lover’s quarrel with—you guessed it—another man!

Sources say a particularly tired-looking Freya Coleman, 25, was attempting to flee an unidentified male late yesterday morning. The man chased her several blocks and attempted to follow her into the subway.

First-hand witnesses claimed that the man even got violent with Freya and possibly pushed her down the stairs.

Liam Henderson, of course, is currently in the middle of his European tour, though insiders from his London show this evening hinted he might just be cancelling to go see a certain someone.

Miss Coleman is currently being treated for a concussion in NY Presbyterian, but the question remains: who is this mysterious man? An ex-lover? A current one?

If any of our readers recognize the man from the photos posted below, we kindly ask that you alert NY Chatter—your top source for inside info on the hottest celebs!

Is Freya cheating on the golden king of rock, and if so, how much longer until their relationship finally combusts? Stay tuned…

Comments:

Lady_of_the_lake_90: finally!!! i knew she was bad news!

Jazelle_is_my_girl_12: Poor Liam…looks like Jazelle will have to cheer him up 😉

Stargazer89: ugh i’m so sick of this chick. she’s not even pretty enough for him…cut her already Liam 🙄

Henderson_69: i will kill you bitch!!!! nobody hurts my man!

wander_lust_365: But like…is she okay? That’s pretty messed up if this dude pushed her…

The phone slipped from my hands and landed in my lap, but I hardly noticed.

~Freya was with…another man?~

My eyes crept over to Freya, who was sound asleep in the hospital bed beside me. I didn’t want to believe she could be capable of lying to me like that, but…

~Photos don’t lie.~

I retrieved my phone and studied the series of grainy images showing Freya standing on the steps of the subway entrance with a man holding on to her arm.

~Who is he?~

As a crippling stream of dark thoughts consumed me, my confusion gave way to something else.

Anger.

~She lied to me.~

Ripping back the bedsheet, I shot out of bed and began pacing the hospital room.

~First she’s lying to me. Next she’s leaving.~

Freya stirred suddenly, yawning. She rolled over in bed, her arm searching for me.

I watched her sit up, her eyes snapping open as she realized something was wrong.

“Liam?” Freya rubbed her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm, let me think about that one,” I replied sarcastically, feeling the anger boiling into rage. “Some guy shows up out of nowhere, tries to hurt my girlfriend, and she doesn’t even ~tell~ me. Nope—nothing’s wrong. I’m just great.”

Freya’s mouth dropped open slightly.

I could see it in her eyes.

She’d been caught.

“What do you—how did you—” she stammered.

“How did I find out?” My voice was rising. “Funny you should ask. I found out like everyone else. From a tabloid! And they’re speculating that this guy is some ex of yours.”

Freya pulled her knees into her chest. “It’s not true,” she whispered. “They got it wrong.”

“Then tell me what happened,” I said, trying to rein in my emotions. “Tell me who he is.”

Freya bit her lip, turning to shield her face from me.

“I don’t know who he is,” she said quietly.

“Have you ever seen him before?” I asked soberly.

I’d managed to stop myself from pacing and now stood at the foot of the bed.

“Yes.”

“So tell me the whole truth,” I pleaded.

“I—he’s been following me for a few weeks,” Freya admitted, “and I thought he was just paparazzi, but…”

“But?”

“But he doesn’t carry a camera with him. And yesterday he chased after me. He grabbed me,” Freya explained, her eyebrows knit together. “I tried to get away, and that’s when I fell.”

Her words made my blood boil.

~I’m going to fucking kill him.~

“What does he want?” I asked. The question hung in the air—grew stale in it—and Freya shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

I couldn’t keep my rising anger from rebounding on the only person directly in my path. On Freya.

“How could you be so careless?” I demanded.

Freya finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing. “How could ~I~—” She let out a sardonic laugh, face flushing red.

“Yes!” I spat back. “You ~knew~ you could have been in danger. You lied to me.”

“I—I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Freya insisted. “You have so much on your plate right now. I didn’t want to add to it.”

“So you’re saying what? You were trying to protect me? Is that it?” I scoffed at the idea.

“Yes,” she answered. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t—”

The door swung open behind me, and I hardly had a chance to turn around before I heard the voice of the last person on Earth I wanted to see.

“You know, when Harri told me you’d hopped on a plane to go see ~her~, I thought she was fucking with me, yet here we are,” Wyatt snarled.

“Do you want me to tell you how much money you’ve lost us?” he continued.

“Or maybe you want to guess.”

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied, my back still turned to him.

“Oh, Freya,” Wyatt said, crossing the room. “I’m being rude. Are you alright?”

Flustered, Freya looked from Wyatt to me, then back to Wyatt. “I’m okay. I just—”

“Oh, dear,” Wyatt said, cutting her off. “I’m sorry—it was more of a rhetorical question. In fact, I really don’t care how you’re doing. The girl that single-handedly cost me—well, if I say it out loud, I might just start crying.”

My entire body tensed as my temper begged to be cut loose.

As I opened my mouth to bark at Wyatt, Freya cut me off.

“Hey.” Her legs flew over the side of the bed and suddenly she was standing inches away from Wyatt, staring into his beady eyes.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not after I just convinced your star to fly back and finish the tour. So, I don’t know, maybe a quick ‘thank you’ would be appropriate?”

To my amazement, Wyatt shrank back.

Was he actually ~intimidated~?

“And you know,” Freya continued, taking a step closer, “maybe I should have one of you two explain how this thing works, but aren’t you, like, Liam’s ~employee?~”

“No, I’m—uh…” Wyatt stammered, and I couldn’t help but grin.

Wyatt looked to me, straightened his tie nervously, and cleared his throat. “I need you on a plane to Amsterdam tomorrow night, Liam. That’s my bottom line.”

“Or what?”

He didn’t respond.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I replied, taking hold of Freya’s hand. “We’ll reschedule the shows I’ve missed. I’ll do this tour. I’ll be on time to every show and play my fucking heart out. But on one condition.”

My manager glanced nervously between us, already regretting his answer, which we both knew would be yes.

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“Freya comes with me.”