Connected: Part 4 of the On The Edge Series

"The fighting is good." I couldn't tell if Billy was speaking to himself or me. "We need to fight, to let things out."

"I don't enjoy fighting with you," I admitted. "Even these micro-fights."

"Micro-fights," he echoed with a laugh before pulling away and tipping my face to his with a single finger. "I love you even when I'm angry, frustrated, or hurt. Tell me if you ever feel like I don't love you, even for a split-second, and I'll reassure you I do."

I gave him a weak smile and let my head roll to his shoulder. "I forget that you're famous. Tonight, with the cab driver, it made me feel weird when someone watches you like that."

Billy scanned me for a long moment before he swept me up in his arms in one seamless move. He settled on the bed with me on his lap. "Okay, let's talk about that," he began. "What do you mean by weird?"

"I don't know. It's a mix of awkwardness, frustration, anger, and..." I pondered the bubbling undertone, "pride, maybe."

His brow furrowed at my final selection.

"I'm proud of you, Billy. I've always been proud of you. People are weird around you. It's not fair. If a person thinks you might be that guy they saw on TV once, why not just ask? Do people think that creepy staring is better?"

A small laugh slipped from his lips. "I don't think most are thinking about it like that. Has your gaze ever fallen on something or someone, but you don't see what's in front of you? You know, you're staring at a bird, but your mind was on a bus ten years ago?"

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged.

"That's what I do to people. I'm vaguely familiar. My face is one that people have seen but can't quite put their finger on where. My voice triggers a memory, but they don't know why. Only a tiny group of people can pick me out of a lineup. To most, I'm just another famous person they hear about in passing; maybe enjoy my work, but don't linger on for too long. It's not like I'm always hitting hot spots in LA. I hide in Duluth, put out some records, and tour every couple of years."

"Do people approach you like they did when the kids were young?"

"Less so now. For one, I'm old news." Billy let out a bit of a chuckle. "And honestly, Sarah was the most interesting part of my life to people back then. And I think there's something in the way you carry yourself. You can be in people's faces and grab attention with how you act and where you go. Then people will approach you. But if you are just a guy doing a job, even if that job is music, you don't get hassled too much." He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. "What do you worry about?"

"You don't want to know," I said as I dropped my eyes from his gaze.

"Don't do that to me, Lil." He lifted my face to meet his again. "I have a very vivid imagination. Talk to me."

"Well, John Lennon comes to mind." I sheepishly shrugged.

"Oh, geez, Lil," he pulled me close to his chest.

"But not just that. I think about Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran. I am always worried. There are just so many things. Ever since the car accident when I just got a snippet through the news, I always feared it'd happen again."

"Babe, you can't think like that. You'll drive yourself crazy," he tried to soothe.

"You say that, but the Audi? Isn't that the same thing? People worry about those they love, and you put yourself in more danger than most."

"I'm not in the military or a firefighter. I play music."

"You know what I mean," I groaned. "You know how I used to love Twenty Flight Rock?"