no clue whether he was being genuine or not. There was very little love lost between Robin and me.
“Do you need to be here?” I asked.
He looked up from the screen for the first time to gape at me.
“You have your own room,” I pointed out. “Unless you need me for something?”
“No.” He snapped his laptop lid shut. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget our flight to Reykjavik is at noon.”
“I won’t.”
He left the room, practically slamming the door behind him. I dropped my head into my hands.
“Why don’t you go back to bed?” Pete suggested. “I’ll let you know when your food arrives.”
“I’m sick of sleeping.”
“You’ve needed it.”
I dropped my hands and looked up at him. “Did I make a mistake?”
“Telling everyone about your epilepsy?”
I shook my head. “Keeping it a secret in the first place?”
“You had your reasons.”
“But were they good reasons?”
Pete sat opposite me. “They were your reasons. Nothing else matters.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure he was right. It was probably a good thing I didn’t control my own social
media. I hadn’t even looked at the various channels in a couple of years. Robin handled all of that, occasionally
showing me the odd comment from fans.
“Why don’t you call Austin?” Pete suggested. “I’m sure you’d rather be talking to him than me.”
That was only sort of true. While Austin was the man I was in love with, Pete had been by my side for nine years.
The first thing I’d done with my advance cheque from Phoenix was to rent a crumby apartment and hire Pete. Not
because I needed the protection—I’d been a literal nobody—but because, at sixteen, I was scared of living on my
own. Not scared enough to swallow my pride, give up music, and go back home, but enough that I’d hired a
keeper. When my first album had exploded, I’d bought a better apartment—the one I still lived in—and hired Wulf,
Trent, and Greg. I hadn’t realised until recently that they were my friends as well as my close protection team,
mostly because I’d had my head stuck firmly in the clouds.
Austin had brought me back down to earth in the best possible way.
‘Will you shift with me?” I asked.
Pete raised his eyebrows as he stared at me.
“I need to get out of this head space for a while, and I don’t like shifting alone.” I only liked shifting at all because
of Austin, but he wasn’t there.
“All right,” Pete said. “I’ll let you shift in private.” He slipped through to his bedroom.
Alone, I sent Austin a text.
—I’ll call soon, I promise. I just need a bit of time. I love you.
He texted right back.
—I’ll be here. Love you too.
I took my clothes off, closed my eyes, and embraced my arctic fox. Pain ripped through me as my body
rearranged itself molecule by molecule. When I opened my eyes, I was standing on four legs and covered in fur
that was instantly too hot in the height of summer, even in an air-conditioned room. I jumped onto the sofa and
sat, waiting for Pete.
He lumbered into the room in his bear form a moment later and flopped down beside the sofa. I lay down too,
resting my chin on my front paws. It wasn’t the same as being with Austin—we would have curled up together—
but at least I wasn’t alone. Exhausted, I closed my eyes and let my worrisome thoughts slip away.
I woke late the next morning, still in my fox form. Pete hadn’t shifted back either, and we’d been joined by Wulf in
his wolf form. I stood, stretched my front and back paws, and yawned widely. I was a lot more refreshed than I
had been the night before. If only I’d fully recovered in time to sing. I jumped off the sofa and nuzzled Pete’s huge
furry shoulder as a way of saying thank you. Then I padded through to my bedroom, nudging the door open with
my nose.
I gasped as I shifted back into my human form. It took a moment for the dizziness caused by my changing
perspective to pass. One foot off the ground to almost six feet was a big difference. I used the wall to steady
myself as I breathed through it and then took my meds before having a shower.
Only then did I feel up to checking my phone again. I read the message from Dad first.
—I saw the news. Let me know if you need anything.
That was
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