CHAPTER EIGHT

Giovanni was still texting me. Every single day.

“Please, Angie. Talk to me.”

“I miss you.”

“I know I messed up, but I still love you.”

I ignored them all. I tried to move on, but every time his name popped up on my screen, something twisted in my chest.

Reed saw the texts once. I noticed the way his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He never did. That was the thing about him; he saw everything but kept it all inside.

We were doing okay. Some days we laughed. We shared meals. We even binge-watched a crime show one night. It felt… normal.

But then, there were days he’d go cold again. Distant. He would answer with one-word replies or disappear for hours. When he was kind, it was easy to pretend we were real. When he was cold, I reminded myself it was all fake.

Still, I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t ask why he left at night. I didn’t ask who was always calling him. I didn’t ask what he was hiding. Because I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the truth.

My career was coming back. Slowly, but surely. The internet had moved on a little. The fans were starting to care about my music again. Not just the drama.

I had been invited to perform at a private show in L.A. Michelle was excited. My dad called it “the beginning of the rebound.” I should’ve been thrilled.

But something felt off.

I woke up feeling heavy. My head hurt. My stomach twisted. I tried to shake it off. “It’s just stress,” I told myself. But by that evening, I couldn’t stand.

Reed found me curled on the bathroom floor.

“Angie?” His voice was sharp. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I feel sick. It’s getting worse.”

He didn’t waste time. He lifted me gently, carried me to the car, and drove straight to the hospital. I drifted in and out of sleep. The lights above me were too bright. My chest felt tight. I could hear Reed arguing at the front desk, demanding someone see me immediately.

Then the doctor came.

“She’s dehydrated,” he said. “But that’s not all. We ran a few tests.”

Reed sat beside me, holding my hand now. His face pale.

“She’s showing early signs of endometriosis.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

The doctor nodded. “It’s a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows outside of it. It can cause pain, fatigue, sometimes infertility if left untreated.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Is it serious?”

“Not yet. We caught it early. That’s good. We’ll start treatment. With the right care, you’ll be okay.”

I nodded slowly. I didn’t know much about endometriosis, but just hearing the word scared me. When the doctor left, I looked at Reed.

He was still holding my hand.

I expected him to say something cold, something sarcastic. But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked at me like I was something fragile. Like he didn’t know how to protect me, but he wanted to try.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said softly.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

“I know.”

He didn’t let go of my hand that night. Even when I fell asleep. Even when the nurse came to check my vitals.

He stayed.

When I woke up the next morning, he was asleep in the chair, his fingers still laced with mine.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

I was discharged two days later. The treatment started immediately; pain relievers, hormonal therapy. The doctor said I’d need monitoring every month. I’d have to change my schedule, take better care of myself.

My life wasn’t going back to normal. It was changing. Again. Reed drove me home, quiet the whole way. But this silence wasn’t cold. It was careful.

When we got inside, I sat on the couch and pulled my blanket over me. I looked up at him.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He didn’t pretend to not hear me. He sat next to me and nodded. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do,” I said. “You were there. When it mattered.”

He looked at me for a long time. “You would’ve done the same.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Lately I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He leaned back, resting his arms on his knees. “You’re Angie. You have to fix yourself.”

I blinked.

Fix myself?

I smiled a little. Letting it slide

He stood up

“You’re confusing, you know that?” I Said looking up slightly.

He smirked. “You’re not exactly simple either.”

We looked at each other. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even flirty. But it was real.

And in that moment, it felt like we weren’t acting anymore. We were just two people trying to figure things out, or was it just me?

I thought to myself.

The next few weeks moved slowly. I wasn’t performing much. I had to cancel a few things. Michelle helped manage my schedule.

Reed started cooking more. He checked my meds, reminded me to drink water, even picked up my prescriptions without being asked .He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke louder.

And for the first time, I wanted to know more about him.

One night, we sat on the balcony. The city lights were quiet beneath us. I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders.

“Reed?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you say yes to the contract?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the skyline, his jaw clenched.

“I needed the money,” he said simply.

“I know that. But… that’s not the whole reason, is it?”

He looked at me. His eyes were softer than I’d ever seen. He was looking at me like I was something he had once lost.

“One day, I’ll tell you everything. But not yet.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

And I meant it. For the first time, I didn’t want to push. I just wanted to sit here, in this moment, with him.

He stood up and held out his hand. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

I took his hand.

It was warm. Strong.

Safe.

Just like that night in the stadium when everything fell apart.

And for the first time, I thought maybe, just maybe, we could get through this.

Together.

He helped me up slowly, looking at me passionately, the air between us tensed up.

His eyes went down to my lips, my chest and back to my lips. Just like that we kissed, it was different this time, I was real, I wanted to stay in this forever. But suddenly His phone rang.