Dylan’s been pulling back from me since we stepped onto the plane. He was quiet the entire flight, and now that we’re back in L.A., he’s distant and edgy. He’s not telling me why, but I’m guessing it was something to do with that phone call from Tim.

Desperate for a distraction while he’s at his interview, I take out my bag of clay and start sculpting.

“What are you doing hiding in here?” Dylan says two hours later when he finds me in his bedroom walk-in closet.

I’m on the ground with a sculpture.

“I’m not getting any clay on your carpet. I swear.”

I show him the contraption I’ve concocted. It consists of one of his bath towels followed by an alarmingly-voluminous layer of paper towels.

“I tried to pick out your oldest towel,” I explain to him as he takes a seat next to me. “But it was hard. I don’t think I own a towel half as new as any of yours.”

“Don’t worry about dirtying stuff. It’s no big deal.” He looks at my sculpture of a bald man with sunken eyes and a drooping chin. “What’s it supposed to be?”

“Death,” I answer him before I can stop myself.

But Dylan doesn’t flinch. “Interesting take. I love that you can just express yourself like that. I’m envious.”

I go to the bathroom to wash up. When I return, Dylan’s sitting on his bed, staring into space.

“Dylan.” I take his hand. “Hey. Talk to me. Something’s going on. Please tell me what it is.”

He hesitates like he’s not sure he knows what to say. He turns away from me and pulls at his hair like he’s going to tear it right out of his head. When he turns back, his dark eyes are distant in a way I’ve never once seen him be with me.

Cold dread shoots through my chest.

He’s going to break up with me.

“Tim called with some news.”

“Okay.”

“I received a death threat.”

I gasp. “Oh my God! From who?”

“A ‘fan.’” He puts the word in air quotes as he rolls his eyes. “She saw all the pictures of you and me in Tucson. She’s jealous. Apparently she thinks—in her mind—that she and I are fucking married, and so she’s decided I was cheating on her with you.”

“What? That’s insane.”

“Exactly.”

“So what are the authorities doing about it?”

“Trying to locate her. She’s gone underground. So now I have security around the clock. They’re outside the house right now.” He takes a deep breath. “And I’ve hired security for you, too, Jasalie. Twenty-four seven. Because even though her threat was only directed at me, you’re in the line of fire by association. And especially because of her delusion that she’s my fucking wife.” He shudders as he says the word, and I reach out to comfort him.

I freeze when he pulls away like he’s allergic to me. That’s when he delivers his real blow. “You’re not safe with me, Jasalie. As much and as hard as I would try to, I can’t promise to keep you safe right now. Until this crazy stalker is caught and behind bars, I think we should take a break. It’s the only way I can be sure you’ll be okay.”

My heart threatens to shut down, but I keep fighting. I’m not about to give up on us.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “I can take care of myself, Dylan. I’ve been doing that my entire life. More than most.”

“Who I am in the public eye, hounded by fans—some of them clearly crazy as shit—could get you killed, Jasalie.” He grips my shoulders with both hands. “I can’t take that risk. I love you too fucking much to ever take that risk. I don’t want to do this—it absolutely wrecks me to imagine waking up without you by my side…” His voice cracks, but he clears his throat and continues on stoically, “Maybe after this fan’s caught, Tim can help me rework protocol so I can take care of you better. But until then…”

My heart sinks into the ground, taking my renewed trust in humanity along with it. I feel like my legs will buckle under me, but I manage to hold myself up.

“You’re ending this.” I say it with certainty because the flatness in his eyes makes everything crystal clear. “You’re quitting. On us.”

Just when I’d given everything.

“I have no choice,” he says. The pain is in his voice, but he tries to mask it with his businesslike approach to our break-up. “I was selfish to want you for longer than Tucson. I was selfish to ask you to be my date for the weekend. I thought I could be like everyone else, but the truth is that my life comes with danger attached to it. I chose to take that risk when I entered professional football, but you didn’t. And you deserve better. You deserve everything good.”

I shake my head at him in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re actually convincing yourself you’re doing this for me.”

“I’m doing it to make sure you don’t get hurt,” he says.

“You’re doing it to make sure you don’t get hurt! I’m not Annabella, Dylan. I won’t blame you for bad press, or rude comments, or for an unflattering photo. And I’m certainly not going to run from one death threat.” I grab my bag and walk out of his bedroom, but he follows me.

“Jasalie…”

Dylan follows me as I head downstairs and into his kitchen where I stop by the dining table.

For a few moments, neither of us says anything.

I stand awkwardly and ponder what the hell I should do. My life seems to be exploding from the inside out.

“Jasalie, look.” Dylan’s eyes are pleading. “I admire and respect how strong you are. But I would rather know that you’re safe and lose you for myself than subject you to things I can’t control.”

“You think I don’t recognize self-protection?” I say. “It’s like looking in the mirror, Dylan! I know exactly what you’re doing!”

“I’m protecting you, Jasalie.”

“Bullshit.” Our eyes lock. “You’re protecting you. You may really and truly believe you’re doing this for me, but I know you’re lying to yourself. You know how I know?”

He doesn’t hazard a guess, so I answer my own question. “You have the most honest, open eyes I’ve ever seen,” I say softly. “And right now, they’re cloudy and you keep trying to avert your gaze.”

A frustrated growl leaves his throat as he comes closer and kisses me hard on the mouth.

I breathe him in, knowing it will be the last time. If he’s going to walk away from me, just like everyone else has, I can’t beg him to stay. I know better than anyone what happens if you try to cage a butterfly.

Dylan and I are exactly the same in this way. The difference is, I’m not running scared.

I pull back just enough so I can look directly into his eyes. “You say you’re doing this to protect me, but what you’re really saying is that I’m not worth the risk.”

He flinches, and for a second, I think he’s going to crack and let down his walls. But he takes a shuddering breath and doesn’t say anything.

And I shatter inside.

“Goodbye, Dylan,” I whisper into his lips.

He leans his forehead to mine, and his reply comes out hoarse. “Goodbye, Jasalie.”

He walks me out to the town car that’s waiting in the driveway, puts me and my bags inside, and he’s gone.

I catch the anguished look on his face in the rearview mirror as he turns away, and I suppress a sob.

Dylan Wild loves me. I know that as surely as I know my own name.

But he left me anyway.

Our fairytale—like my heart—is crushed.

And somehow, like when I was a child, I need to pick up the pieces and put myself back together. No one else is going to do it for me.

I have to lean on myself.

But this time, I’m not four years old and utterly alone. This time, I have people in my corner.

I text Rosita from the car.

As soon as I step out with my bags, she’s running toward me. Two minutes later, we’re inside my apartment and tears are coming down my face.

“Sit down, honey, and tell me what’s going on with you.” She takes a seat on my couch and pats the empty space next to her.

As soon as I sit down, I’m crying on her shoulder.

I tell her about the deal Dylan and I made. I talk about our romantic nights in Arizona, about his house in Malibu, and then how he ended things so abruptly. Without giving too much detail, I fill her in on how he blames himself for a previous breakup. And I tell her I love him so much it hurts.

“Why does it have to hurt?” she asks me.

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I truly don’t know. But Dylan made that choice. I opened up my heart to him, and he decided I wasn’t worth it.”

“I think he got scared,” she says as she hands me a pack of tissues from her purse. “Scared of losing you for good, and after what happened in his past, he thinks he’s protecting you.”

“And I feel like the door was slammed in my face all over again. It’s like I’m still lost in this one moment. The moment when I lost my mother. I just relived the pain once more.” I wipe my eyes with the tissue.

“Sounds like this is quite different.” Rosita narrows her gaze at me.

I look away.

“Sounds like the two of you found something people spend a lifetime searching for. I don’t blame you for being upset, honey. But I wouldn’t give up on this boy just yet. He thinks he’s doing this to watch out for you. And I don’t doubt it broke his heart as well.”

I sigh heavily and lean my head on her shoulder. “I know. But I couldn’t stop him.”