Page 64 of Rescue

“I think it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world for him to know how difficult things have been for you since then.”

“No,” I say immediately. “I’m not talking to him about it.”

“Maybe he would understand.”

“How could anyone understand that?” I close my eyes, knowing that the images are coming. The way Randy had looked when he pushed into my apartment, the feel of his hand on my arm. The terror of being trapped there with him for hours, sure he was going to hurt me or—

“It’s okay, Haylee,” Layla says, her voice clear. I open my eyes and focus on her face, reminding myself that I’m safe here. Randy is in jail. I’m safe.

“I just… I just don’t think he could possibly understand what that feels like. To feel so… broken down by something. Like your whole life is controlled by this thing that happened to you. How could I make him understand that?”

“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Before I can answer, there’s a commotion at the door. The Ransomes are in the lobby, their bodyguards pushing a swarm of fans away. Soon hotel security joins them, and they manage to get the fans back onto the sidewalk. “Hey,” Daisy says, seeing us in the lounge. The boys join her as she walks over to our table. “How’s it going?”

I hope any trace of tears is gone from my eyes. I know, without looking, that Lennon’s gaze is on my face. “Good,” Layla says easily, nothing in her voice betraying the seriousness of the conversation they walked in. “Just talking about what Paige might have planned for tonight.”

Daltrey groans. “I know it’s going to be something weird.”

“He’s just tired,” Daisy says, stepping on his foot. “They’ve been doing interviews all day.”

Cash collapses into a seat across from us. “Interviews in French,” he clarifies. “Trying to listen to the reporter and the translator at the same time. I have such a headache.”

“Unfortunately you don’t have time to go rest,” Paige says, appearing at our side, Sam and Karen trailing her. “We’re heading out.”

“Already?” Reed asks, his normally professional veneer slipping a little. “We’re tired, Paige.”

“Sorry, babe,” she says, kissing his cheek. “We’re on a schedule here.”

“Can we at least eat first?” Lennon asks.

“This is your night, buddy,” she tells him. “So no complaining. Besides, we’re going to eat later.”

“What do you mean, my night?” he asks, something close to panic in his eyes. “Are you going to make me do something weird?”

She crosses her arms. “Like what?”

“Like sing karaoke or—”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Stop being such a worrywart. I picked this especially for you because I knew you would love it. Now let’s go.”

So the boys trudge back through the waiting crowds of fans, Layla and I following. To my relief, she hangs onto my elbow without me having to ask, pulling me through the crowd without incident. We pile into the waiting black van, Paige handing the driver a card with an address on it, and then we’re off.

“This is pretty close,” she says as we crawl through the early evening traffic. “Just have to cross the river.” I stare out the window as the buildings of Paris, so different from anything at home, pass by. It looks like a movie set, a fairy tale.

“You’re doing it, you know,” Lennon says from behind me, leaning over my bench seat.

“Doing what?”

“You’re trying to guess what she’s planning, aren’t you?”

I laugh. “Just enjoying the view, actually.”

“It’s pointless to guess,” he says. “Paige is always surprising.”

But apparently I’m not the only one trying to figure it out. As we slow along the river, Cash leans forward to peer out the front window. “Is this a train station?”

“It’s not a train station,” Lennon says, and it’s my turn to lean over to face him. He’s staring out at the building next to us, his eyes a little wide. Paige is next to him, smiling knowingly. “This is a museum.”