A buzzer sounds. An inner door is opened by a guard, who then steps aside, revealing—
“Rush!”
He emerges into the sunshine, his eyes lock on mine, and the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen breaks over his face. He’s wearing his usual denim shirt and the silver jewelry that he looked so strange without whenever I visited him in prison.
My squeal of delight alerted all the press behind me who start to take pictures, but I’m only dimly aware of the flash and click of their cameras as Rush comes through the outer gate and folds me in his arms.
He squeezes me so hard while whispering, “Dree, baby. I’ve missed you. Daddy’s missed you.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard him say that in six months, and it makes tears spring to my eyes. We haven’t just had to put our relationship on hold, but everything special that makes us us in order to keep it private.
I put my lips against his ear and whisper. “I missed you, too, Daddy.”
He captures my mouth in his and gives me a long, thorough kiss that steals my breath and makes my heart pound harder than it has since he went inside.
Finally, he turns to Wes and clasps him in a hug. “I missed you too, you big bastard. Come here.”
Wes grins and hugs him back. “Mate, chill with the weightlifting. You’re going to crush my ribs.”
“Nothing else to do on the inside,” Rush replies drawing away, but a glimmer of amusement passes between them like they’re sharing a joke. I don’t believe for a moment that the only thing Rush has been doing while locked up is lifting weights.
Rush takes a firm grip on my hand and we head toward the waiting black car, but first we have to run the gauntlet of journalists.
A blonde woman shoves a microphone in his face. “Rush, have you heard that Palatine has been dropped by their label?”
I suck in a breath at the news. If it’s true, it must have happened late last night or today.
Rush slows down and almost stops walking. I squeeze his hand, reminding him that he doesn’t have to say anything. He squeezes me back, and turns to the journalist. “I’m sorry that they’ve disappointed their fans through their actions. But I’m thrilled for Dree’s sake and the sake of the women who have come forward that the truth is coming out at last. They have my full support.”
We keep walking while more questions are shouted around us, but there’s nothing I want to add and we get into the waiting car. Wes sits up front next to the driver and immediately pulls out his phone.
I’m in the back with Rush, and as the car pulls away from the prison and the cameras flash, Rush draws me into his arms.
“Come here, I need to snuggle the living daylights out of you.”
I laugh and wrap my arms around his shoulders while Rush groans and buries his face in my hair.
“I’m so fucking touch starved,” he says, voice muffled. “Just let me hold you for a bit.”
I hold him tightly all the way along the motorway as we head out toward Shropshire. He keeps gathering me closer and closer, his eyes closed in bliss. Despite his confident manner outside the prison and the muscle he’s put on, there are shadows beneath his eyes and his cheeks are too thin.
“Poor Daddy,” I whisper, stroking the bristles on his cheek. “I’ll have to take care of you for a while.”
He smiles and kisses my temple. “Don’t you worry about me. All’s well in my world again.”
Wes asks the driver to pull into a motorway services after we’ve been on the road for an hour and he goes inside to buy cups of coffee. Rush still has me tight against his chest when Wes comes back and passes two paper cups to us.
“Do you want your coffee?” I ask Rush as he adjusts his grip so I can sit up. He still has both his arms around me and doesn’t seem to want to let go.
“In a minute. You drink yours,” he says, kissing my temple.
After a few minutes, Wes asks, “Mate, are you feeling human enough yet to hear some news?”
I glance at Rush. It’s about Striker and Palatine, I presume. Rush sits up and pushes his hair back, and reaches for his coffee. “Go on, then.”
He threads the fingers of his free hand through mine as he sips his coffee and Wes reads aloud an article that was published a few hours ago. It’s just like the journalist said outside the prison. Palatine has been dropped by their label, and we discover why. As well as my charges against him, four more women are pressing charges for sexual and workplace harassment. One of his bandmates has quit and is singing to the press about every toxic thing he’s seen Striker do over the years.