Jason quietly walked up and handed him a copy of the magazine. Then, he silently slipped back to wherever he had come from. Looking down at the photo, Phil’s face turned into Lethal Phil.

“This is bullshit!” he hissed. “Why are you letting this garbage bother you?”

“Is that what today’s stunt was all about?” I scathingly asked, pointing at the tabloid filth. “Were you afraid I’d find out, so you had to soften me up beforehand?”

“This is the first I’m seeing this,” he snapped back.

Anger blazing through me on an empty stomach with the thought of slimy Brigid in Phil’s arms flitted through my traitorous brain and had me seeing white spots. My tinnitus flared loudly, and I felt my knees starting to give out.

“Shit!” shouted Phil, lifting me up into his arms, holding me close.

“Put me down,” I said, my own voice sounding like it was coming from a distance down a long tunnel.

“So you can fuckin’ faint?”

“Lay me on the couch!” I snapped, feeling some blood and reason rush to my head. “I need my knees up.”

He did as I’d asked, sitting so that he held my feet in his lap with my knees bent toward the ceiling. Jason drifted by with a bottle of water.

“She ain’t takin’ Baby Girl from you, Kenna. I won’t let her.”

“She already has,” I replied miserably.

“No, she hasn’t. No one can take it from you.”

I kept my mouth shut as the roaring in my ears died down. Light was too bright, so I shut my eyes.

“Don’t give her any power over you. She has none,” he said softly. Then, he sighed. Wrapping his arms around my knees, he hugged them tight, resting a cheek on top. “You’re my only Baby Girl. And I’m so sorry I did this. It’s my fault, Kenna. I fucked up. I never should have gone to lunch with her. I knew it was a bad idea.”

“Then, why did you go?”

“Because, at the time, I thought it was the nice thing to do, you know? Just to let her know that I was sorry I’d ended it the way I had. But she took everythin’ all wrong. I told her over and over how I had been in love with you since I was a kid, but she completely ignored it and only heard what she wanted to hear.”

Everyone was listening to us but trying to appear as though they weren’t paying any attention.

“I want to go lie down,” I quietly told him.

“Can I lie down with you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

I struggled to my feet, and Phil followed me back to the bunks where I noticed straightaway that my panel had been graffitied all over with hearts containing Phil + Kenna and Phil Deveraux-MacGregor scrawled in his beautifully flowing script.

“What the…”

The entire fucking panel door was an adolescent declaration of devotion.

Philip MacGregor.

Mr. and Dr. Deveraux-MacGregor.

I ♥ Kenna.

I love my Baby Girl.

That sort of shit.

I looked up into his face. He was trying to gauge my reaction.

“You ruined the panel.”

“I think I significantly improved it.”

My lips twitched. “It’s completely juvenile.”

“Well, you do reduce me to a pantin’ adolescent with a boner. I thought it was only fittin’.”

“Why do you love me?” I whispered, my self-confidence plummeting and splattering in a hot mess at our feet.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied, sounding angry now. “You are the most amazin’ woman on the whole planet. Where is this comin’ from? Did that photo upset you that much? It’s fuckin’ funny because, at that moment, I was laughin’ at her for suggestin’ that she remind me of what sex with her had been like. I find it ironic that it’s being used to depict how I’m supposed to be enamored with her.”

That did make me smile a little bit.

“Kenna, please stop pushin’ me away,” he begged softly. “I’m tryin’ to fix this. It’s drivin’ me insane, havin’ you at a distance. It’s you and me against the whole fuckin’ world, if need be.”

“I told you what I needed you to do.”

“I’m not talkin’ ’bout just the physical stuff. You’re my best friend. I need you by my side. I know I endangered your trust. I know it looked bad, but you also know that I ain’t capable of bein’ with anyone else like that.”

“You need to talk to Devon.”

His nostrils flared. “I don’t see what he has to do with any of this!”

“It’s about what I found out when you went out to lunch with that viper! I can’t tell you myself. So, do us both a favor. Swallow your fucking pride, and listen to what he has to say!”

“I’m fuckin’ workin’ on it!” he hissed. “But right now, I’m still too full of hate for the motherfucker to trust myself not to kill him! Don’t you get that?”

Brigid’s pretty face floated through my head. “Actually…I do. So, yeah, take all the time you need.”

“Will you stop pushin’ me out then?”

“I’ll think about it,” I replied as I slid open the panel.

Crawling in with Phil’s assistance, I rolled onto my back and yelped.

Plastered with photos of Phil, the ceiling of my foxhole watched me from at least fifty pairs of eyes. Goofy shots of him sending me kisses, photos of our happy faces kissing and touching, handwritten poems, cutouts of lotus blossoms—the whole thing was wallpapered with him. In the very center was a magazine poster of him. Normally, it would show his rockin’-out angry face, but over his head was a superimposed photo of his head with his eyes closed and his lips puckered up.

“Gods above!” I gasped. Turning my head, I stared at him. “What the hell, babe?”

His eyes sparkled with warmth at the term of endearment. “Just want you to know that I’m always with you, even on the creepiest of levels.”

“You’re kind of insane, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replied.

“Orlando, I’m in a bit of a funk to be honest, and there’s a song that fits me perfectly right now. The guys are happy to play it with me, so if y’all don’t mind a cover, we’re gonna go ahead and do that for you.”

Orlando cried back in support of Phil’s little speech.

Alys, Lili, and I had joined the crowd for this show, much to our dudes’ irritation. But I wasn’t going to sit backstage to suffer another sneak attack from the Swiss Brigade. I was under the impression that Switzerland was supposed to be a friendly neutral country. Brigid must have missed that bit of info at Swiss Citizen Orientation Day.

Smashed close to the stage but not so close as to be spotted, we were just a few fans in the crowd, happy to be watching our favorite band play.

“Flipper and X are gonna take a break on this one,” Phil told the audience as he pulled up a stool and strapped on an acoustic guitar.

The crowd started to cheer for him, excited to see an instrument in his hands. Jason took the seat on his left, and Connor took the one on the right, holding a violin across his lap. Each of them had a mic positioned in front of them.

“Some shit’s been fuckin’ with someone I love, and I’m tied up inside, watchin’ her have to deal with it. So, this one is for the most beautiful soul I’ve ever had the great fortune to know,” Phil said.

He started to strum the acoustic, and I immediately recognized it as “Vermillion, Pt. 2” by Slipknot. A beautiful song from a band not known for tenderness, it was a personal favorite of mine. It took Phil, Jason, and Connor harmonizing perfectly to pull it off.

It seemed that all I’d had in me these past few days were tears. Stuffed in with all these filthy, sweaty ripe bodies, once more, my eyes dripped. Phil showing the world he was aching for me was more than I could bear.

Around our heads, lighters rose, and flames flickered. The balmy night turned light. Inside myself, trampled and squashed down into the sore parts of me, I ascended with their voices. We all sang with the heroes on stage before us, releasing some of the pain and sadness harbored in each of us. Everyone here carried something that needed to be freed even if just for the space of a four-minute song.