Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

I laughed. “I’m well aware.”

He took another step closer to me. I swallowed and tilted my head up to look into that gorgeous face. The person who had turned my world upside down and shattered it in the next breath.

“But I don’t want to be the reason you run ever again.”

My knees wobbled at those words. “I don’t think you can promise that.”

“I’m not the same person I was eight years ago.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I glanced down. “Me either.”

Losing him had made me careful. It had made me hesitant. It had made me think before I leaped. I didn’t know how not to be that person. Especially with his beautiful face looking down at me so earnestly.

“Why don’t we just…try to start over?” I offered.

He accepted it for the olive branch it was. “I’d like that.” Then, he sighed softly. “Look, you don’t have to do those videos just because my manager asked.”

“Have you considered that I might want to?”

“No,” he admitted.

“You seem adamantly against it.”

“I’m not. I’m just…” He bit the inside of his cheek, shifting from foot to foot and fidgeting, as he always had. That nervous energy crackled through him. Nowadays, he channeled it onto the stage, but before, it had come out like this. “I want to protect you. When you called me, crying, I freaked the fuck out. It reminded me so much of when the police called the night my mom died.”

“Campbell,” I whispered.

“It’s not the same. I know it isn’t. But the instant it happened, I knew that I’d do anything to keep you safe. And the deeper you get involved with me, the more you post videos, the more you let LA weasel in here, into your Lubbock sanctuary, the less I can do about it.”

Despite myself, I put my hand on his arm. He jumped at the touch. “You don’t have to protect me. What happened Sunday was a surprise. I didn’t know that sort of thing could happen. I’ll be more careful now. I won’t be alone.”

“Fuck, I hate that you have to think like that now.”

“It might never even happen again,” I told him. “And I don’t think I should decide everything based on a what-if. Sunday was a lot, but I want to do this, Campbell. I’ve already gotten several offers for things like being on the Today show and a speaking tour for Blaire Blush.”

His eyes lit up with pride. “Really? Blaire, that’s incredible.”

I flushed, true to my namesake. “I actually wanted to ask about how to navigate it. I need help and thought you might know someone.”

“Oh yeah? Like a publicist? I know someone great. She’s New York–based now, but before she moved, we hung out a lot in LA. She’s great. Let me give you her contact. Just tell her I sent you.”

He sent me a text, and my phone dinged. A name and number came up on my phone—Anna English, English & Bhardwaj PR.

“She goes by English,” Campbell told me.

“Well, that was…easier than I’d thought.” I shoved my phone away with a promise to message English tomorrow.

He shrugged. “I have contacts. I just want to make sure this is what you want. I remember when all you wanted was to disappear.”

“I got rid of that girl when you left,” I whispered. “After everything happened, I decided that I didn’t want to disappear ever again.”

As if he couldn’t stop himself from touching me, he brushed my hair behind my ear. “Then, go take over the world. I can’t wait to watch it happen.”

And he was so sincere that it took everything in me to step out of his embrace instead of crushing my lips to his.

18

Blaire

Anna English was a total hard-ass, and I immediately liked her. As soon as I’d texted her, name-dropping Campbell, she’d scheduled a call. At first to verify I was who I’d said I was and then to go through everything that was already on my plate. We worked out the details for a standard contract, and I signed with her before the day was out. I went through my emails and sent her everything that looked even remotely interesting. Things that I didn’t know what to do with, but she apparently ate this stuff for breakfast.

“I’ve got you covered, Blaire. I’m glad Campbell gave you my number. Tell him hi for me, will you?”

“Sure.”

“And if you’re in New York or LA anytime, then let me know, so we can meet,” she said, all business.

“I’ll definitely do that. Thanks, English.”

“My pleasure.”

English was a hundred percent on board with me recording everything that happened with the band when they were in Lubbock. She said she was going to reach out to her LA contacts to see about a possible documentary with Netflix using Blaire’s footage of the band as they create their new album. I had no idea how likely that was, but she seemed like the kind of person who didn’t take no for an answer.