P.S. I’m Still Yours: Chapter 9

“Where the fuck is it?” I bang my fist against the top of the minibar I know for a fact should be packed with booze—seriously, there should be enough to last me a decade.

I’ve checked everywhere.

Every cabinet.

Every nook and cranny of the beach house.

There’s nothing.

I thought I was prepared for this.

Put together a plan from the moment my mom waltzed into my hotel room the day after the Josh disaster and announced that she was dragging my ass back to Golden Cove for the summer.

I even got one of my minions to fly in ahead of time and stock up so that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting through her little intervention sober.

Looks like my mom wasn’t fucking around when she said she was done watching me destroy myself.

I’m guessing she thinks not giving me easy access to alcohol will force me to quit.

Although, if that’s her endgame… someone should probably tell her that bringing Hadley Queen into my house is the definition of counteractive.

If anything, seeing her again last night made me want to drink more.

When I saw her standing there in her pj’s… with her pouty, parted lips, cute freckles, and wild red hair…

Fuck.

It felt like someone had reached inside my throat, squeezed my heart into a tight grip, and pulled. She hasn’t changed one bit, and yet, everything about her is different.

Her hair is longer. It stops at her belly button now, and that body… it’s a curvy masterpiece. Nice rack, hourglass figure, sexy little ass. She’s got it all.

Not that I expected any less.

She was always beautiful, in a delicate, innocent kind of way. But now? She looks like she was put on this earth to torture and test the shit out of me.

It’s as though the universe threw together everything I like in a woman, and it spit out Hadley Queen.

I could hear the devil on my shoulder taunting me as I realized…

This is what I gave up five years ago.

She was sixteen the last time I saw her, but I was so fucked-up the room was spinning, and all of my energy had to go into not projectile vomiting in the middle of the church.

Then the paps crashed Gray’s funeral like the worthless pieces of shit that they are, and I had to bolt out of there. I didn’t have time to truly drink her in that day, but last night…

Last night only reinforced what I’ve known for a while but refused to admit.

Every fantasy I’ve had for the past five years has been about this girl.

I couldn’t have her when I was a hormonal, fifteen-year-old little shit because of the age difference and the fact that she was Gray’s sister, but my cock never forgot that she was the first girl I ever craved.

Just another reason why I need her out of this house, this town, and my fucking life as soon as possible.

I don’t want to find out what I’m going to do if she stays.

“Of course you’d be going through the minibar at the crack of dawn.” My drummer’s voice makes me cringe.

I usually like this guy, but right now? I can’t stand him.

Not only is Scar one of my best friends, he’s also the first member the label ever hired for my band.

We’ve been touring together for five years, but that doesn’t mean I want him breathing down my neck for the rest of my sentence—sorry, the rest of the summer.

My mom insisted that I need to be surrounded by loved ones and friends right now, which is also why she invited Drea, my longtime publicist, to tag along.

She says Drea’s coming so we can figure out a game plan to save what’s left of my career, but I know the reason she wants Scar and Drea around is because she needs backup.

She probably thought it’d be easier to keep an eye on me with a whole damn village reporting back to her.

She’s convinced herself that forcing me to spend some time away from the spotlight is going to fix everything. Little does she know, I’ve only made it this far because of the spotlight.

Without the interviews, recording sessions, and back-to-back shows, there’s nothing to keep my mind from wandering. I’m scared that without my hectic schedule, I won’t be able to run from my demons anymore.

I realize I still have a mini Bacardi bottle from the plane a moment later and sprint to the foyer with Scar on my tail—I dumped my jacket on the one-seater by the door when we got here this morning.

I shove my hand into the pocket of my leather jacket and pull out the liquor I saved for later. “Score.”

I uncap the bottle, but just as I’m about to down it, Scar swipes it from me, earning himself a murderous glare.

He scoffs. “I don’t know how much they’re paying this Tori girl, but she better start cutting me in if I’m going to be babysitting your ass all fucking summer.”

He’s halfway to the kitchen sink before I can take back what’s mine.

“Don’t—” I start, but he’s already pouring the liquor down the drain with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Fucker.

“Where’s your sober companion, anyway?” He snorts, setting his forearms flat on the kitchen island.

A bitter laugh rips from my throat. “Fuck if I know. I sent her packing hours ago.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yup. She’s gone. Got in a cab early this morning.”

Conflicted, Scar rounds the island and tosses the bottle into the trash. “Does your mom know about this?”

His reaction is not what I expected. “That’s it? I thought you’d be throwing me a fucking parade.”

It’s no secret that Scar can’t stand Tori.

Out of all the people my new management’s hired to keep my drinking under control, she was by far the loudest, most aggravating one.

The girl just wouldn’t shut up, and she thought acting dumb made her look cute. She was hot, I’ll give her that, but no one’s hot enough to pull off being this fucking annoying.

“Don’t get me wrong, she was a major pain in the ass, but all that’s going to do is make them send someone else. You know that, right?”

Unfortunately.

“Then I’ll fire them, too.”

“Or you could, I don’t know, admit that you have a problem and let someone help you before you drive yourself into the fucking grave at twenty-one?”

I hate when he does this. I already have enough people on my case—try three hundred million people—without my friends lecturing me.

I’ve been beating myself up over what happened for weeks now. And sure, I was wasted when I went apeshit on Josh, but I didn’t crash my fist into my manager’s jaw because alcohol told me to.

I did it because he deserved it.

Scratch that, he deserved worse.

I shrug, ignoring his concern. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I trail to the fridge and swing it open.

I’m fucking famished. I skipped dinner last night, and my chef’s not getting here until tomorrow morning. I’d kill for a stack of Sue’s pancakes right now.

“Hold on, it’s like—” Scar pauses to check the clock on the wall. “—ten in the morning. When did you even fire her? We crashed immediately after we got here.”

“You crashed immediately,” I correct him, digging through the fridge for food. “I needed a shower, and Tori snuck into the bathroom to suck my dick. She got canned instead.”

And then we found out we had an audience.

I’d pay good money to know what went through Hadley’s head when she first saw Tori.

Scar sits down at the breakfast nook. “Damn. Turned off a BJ. You’re better than me.”

I take a seat at one of the stools around the kitchen island. “Thank fuck I did. Hadley was right outside the door, listening to the whole thing.”

I only realize what I’ve said when his face falls. “Back up. Hadley’s here? Your childhood best friend with the dead brother Hadley?”

The dead brother part of his sentence makes me cringe.

I nod, grabbing an apple and taking a bite. Other than eggs and milk, fruit is all we have. I’m guessing Mom left the grocery shopping to Sue. “One and only.”

Scar sags into his seat, a drop of shock bleeding through his gaze. “Fuck me.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What the hell is she even doing here?”

“I’m guessing my mom invited her?”

Ironically, my mom pads into the kitchen as soon as the words are out of my mouth, a big smile on her face.

She’s wearing open-toe sandals and a long sundress. A beach bag with a bunch of shells on it droops from her shoulder, an oversized pair of sunglasses resting on top of her head.

I’m guessing today’s beach day.

“Morning, boys,” she singsongs, walking over to me to place a kiss on my forehead. She’s pulling a coffee mug out of the kitchen cabinet when I rise to my feet.

She’s in a good mood.

Too bad I’m about to take a metaphorical dump in her coffee.

“You should’ve told me Hadley was here,” I confront her.

She stops dead.

She drags out a sigh and spins to face me. “I was going to tell you about them today.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Them?”

“Hadley and Lillian. I’ve invited them to come live with us for the summer.”

The hell did she just say?

“You what?” I spit.

After I saw Hadley last night, I convinced myself that my mom had invited her over for the weekend and she’d be gone first thing Monday morning.

But the whole fucking summer?

“Look, I know I should’ve told you, but it was a last-minute thing. Lillian called me two days ago and mentioned that she was looking for a place because her condo’s flooded. You had so much to take care of back in LA, I figured it could wait.”

Either she’s messing with me, or we’re going to have a serious problem on our hands.

“And you didn’t think to ask me first?”

Last I checked, this is still my fucking house.

Yes, I bought it for her because I remembered how much she loved the beach house, but legally, the place is mine.

“Would you have said yes if I’d asked?”

She’s got me there.

I would’ve shut down the idea faster than my career went to shit.

“They’re not staying,” I state.

Normally, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for my mom.

Everything she’s ever wanted, I’ve given her.

But there is no goddamn way I can share a house with Hadley Queen for two months.

“Honey, please. Be reasonable. It’s only for the summer. Lillian and I are going to be spending a lot of time at the club, and Hadley mentioned she was going to get a full-time job. You’ll hardly ever see them, anyway.”

“I don’t care. I want them gone.”

My use of the word “them” isn’t really justified here.

I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Lillian staying for the summer. I like the woman. She’s my godmother and Mom’s best friend. It’s her daughter I’m worried about.

Spending this much time stuck in a house with the girl that got away is just asking for my self-control to snap.

“Kane…” My mom rests her hand on my shoulder. “Do you remember the first few months after your father died?”

Shit.

She’s going to go there, isn’t she?

“How helpless and desperate we were after we moved out of our apartment? How relieved and grateful we felt when Lillian opened her home to us?”

A pang of guilt flickers in my chest.

“She took us in, no questions asked. They were there for us. What kind of people would we be if we didn’t return the favor?”

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

Forget what I said before.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my mother.

I let out an irritated groan. “Jesus Christ, fine.”

Satisfied, my mom draws me into her arms. “Thank you, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She’s just retreated to the other side of the kitchen when Scar coughs into his fist. “Mama’s boy.”

And he’s right.

My mom’s all I have in this world.

She could ask me to take in a bunch of hobos for the summer, and I’d say yes in a heartbeat. By all means, take my room.

“You guys hungry? I was thinking I’d make some eggs,” my mom asks after she’s inserted a coffee pod into the machine.

“Starving,” Scar chimes.

I spend the next fifteen minutes trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to avoid Hadley for the next two months.

Granted, this is a big house, and she’ll be at work most of the time, so it shouldn’t be too hard during the day.

But at night… I might just have to ask Scar to tie me to my bed so that I’m not tempted to sneak into her room and finish what we started five years ago.

“Morning.” Drea ambles into the kitchen just as my mom is making me a plate.

I open my mouth to answer, but my voice leaves me the second I realize that she’s not alone.

Hadley’s with her.

My eyes rake over her body, and I’m probably being super obvious, but I can’t bring myself to give a damn.

She’s wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans, and while the baggy clothes do a decent job of hiding her curves, the perfectly rounded hips and perky-looking tits her pajamas clung to last night are ingrained into my memory.

My cock gives a jerk when her eyes lift to mine. Social conventions tell me to look away, but I couldn’t take my gaze off her if I tried.

“Look who’s up,” Mom chirps, making a beeline for the girls and embracing them one by one. “I’m making eggs. Would you like some?”

Hadley cracks a timid smile. “Sure.”

Drea matches her answer.

My mom gestures to the breakfast nook, where Scar is already seated. “Sit, relax, I’ll take care of everything.”

Hadley thanks her before sliding onto the bench right next to Scar. Drea follows, careful to avoid making eye contact with Scar, but he’s already got that covered, staring at his hands linked on his lap.

Good Lord, this shit is awkward.

Things have been weird as hell since Drea and Scar shagged in my bunk on the last day of my European tour.

I’m not judging. I’ve done despicable things on that tour bus, but walking in on my drummer plowing into my publicist from behind sure made me pause.

These two have been at each other’s throats for five years now, and it never occurred to me that maybe their constant bickering was because they wanted to fuck each other.

“I’m Drea, by the way.” Drea turns to Hadley once they’ve settled around the table. “Kane’s publicist.”

Hadley flashes a bright smile. “Hadley. Nice to meet you.”

I plop down next to Scar, who’s still avoiding eye contact with everyone. Hadley directs her attention to him, waiting for some sort of introduction.

I elbow him under the table, and he snaps back to reality. “Right, sorry. I’m Scar. Short for Oscar. I’m Kane’s drummer.”

“Hadley,” she introduces herself again.

I almost laugh.

Scar knows who she is.

And he doesn’t just know her.

He knows everything about her.

My mom stops in front of the table and hands Hadley and Drea their breakfasts before walking back to the stove to make me and Scar some eggs.

She comes back with our food a few minutes later, snatching the last free spot on the bench. “You didn’t have to wait for me. Come on, dig in.”

Everyone does.

Except for me.

All I can do is stare at Hadley.

She notices right away, obviously uncomfortable.

Like a shot of courage just tore through her body, she looks up and returns my stare.

She pins me with a look that screams “What’s your deal?”, defiance gleaming in her blue eyes, and holy hell, the confrontational side of her does something for me.

She’s different than I remember.

Confident in a “do no harm, but take no shit” kind of way.

When it becomes clear that I’m not going to back down first, she peels her eyes off me and turns to my mom. “Evie, do you happen to know where my mom is? I couldn’t find her this morning.”

“She told me last night she wanted to go for a morning walk on the beach. She should be back soon.”

Hadley answers with a small nod.

My mom realizes something’s wrong not even five minutes later. “Where’s your sober sponsor?”

She glances around the kitchen as though she expects Tori to materialize in the doorway.

I shrug. “Gone. I fired her this morning.”

3, 2, 1.

“What? Again?” she blurts out, the wrinkles between her eyebrows deepening as she glares disapproval-laced bullets at me.

“She wasn’t a good match.” I take a bite of my eggs, ignoring her exasperated sigh.

“You’ve said that about every single person your management’s sent. You can’t keep doing this, honey. You need to—”

“What I need is to relax,” I cut her off, leaning back against the wall the large bench is pressed to. “Take some time off. Isn’t that what you wanted? All these people riding my back around the fucking clock aren’t exactly making it easy.”

Her glare intensifies at my cursing, but I don’t think twice about what I say next. “I don’t fucking need them. I’ll figure it out on my own. Plus, you’ve already cleared out every liquor cabinet in the house, so it’s not like I have any other options.”

This will be the second time she’s lectured me in less than an hour. The first was when she guilt-tripped me into letting Hadley stay, and now she’s suffocating me with her motherly concern.

I know she’s just worried, but if there’s one thing she should know about me by now, it’s that telling me not to do something only makes me want to do it more.

She doesn’t say a word, disappointment oozing off her as she pokes at her eggs.

Great.

Now, I feel bad.

“I’m working on it, okay? I promise.”

My mom gives a small nod and clears her throat, changing the topic before it gets awkward. “What are everyone’s plans for today?”

Scar says something about wanting to go surfing. I think? I can’t listen for the life of me, still staring at Hadley.

Mom nods along with a smile before shifting her focus over to Hadley. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Hadley finishes her bite and says, “Oh, um… Jamie got me a job interview at Sandy’s later.”

Jamie.

I haven’t heard that name in a hot minute.

I was never friends with Jamie, but I wonder if her brother’s around for the summer. Couldn’t hurt to catch up.

“What a wonderful idea. I’m sure you’ll get it,” Mom rejoices.

I need her to get it.

And if it’s not at Sandy’s, I need her to get hired somewhere else. It’s the only way I’m going to make it through this summer with Hadley living under my roof.

“Shit,” Drea says just as my mom begins clearing the table.

I glance at her. She’s staring at her phone with an open mouth and shock pasted to her face.

“What?” I ask, and she lowers her phone, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Before I tell you, I need you to promise to stay calm. It’s not even confirmed yet. It’s just hearsay.”

My fists clench. “What now?”

She releases a breath. “It’s just… word on the street is… the girl you almost pushed down the stairs that night at the club is thinking of suing.”

It takes me a second to place her.

She’s talking about the nightclub waitress who opened the door leading to the stairs when I was getting into it with Josh. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She happened to be standing behind Josh when I decked him in the face. But she didn’t even get hurt. She moved out of the way just in time while Josh tumbled down the cement stairs.

“Are you shitting me? On what fucking grounds?”

Drea cringes. “Emotional distress.”

This is bullshit.

Just another lowlife trying to get some money out of an unfortunate situation.

I already have Josh and his entire family suing me. Now I have to worry about the club staff coming after me, too. It was an accident. I didn’t even know there was a staircase behind that door.

Man, I can’t catch a fucking break.

I drop my head against the wall behind me, forcing air in and out of my lungs to compose myself.

Then I notice Hadley eyeing me from across the table.

“NDA” is the first word out of my mouth.

Is Hadley the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life?

Yes.

Do I trust her with secrets that could blow up my career to the point of inhalation?

Fuck no.

If she’s going to be around while we discuss important things, I need to make sure she’s going to keep her mouth shut—no matter how tempting that plump little mouth might be.

“Oh, I hardly think that’s necessary,” my mom interjects. “You’ve known Hadley your whole life.”

“Doesn’t mean we can trust her not to run her mouth to the media,” I counter.

Hadley’s face twists with irritation, and I gather that I’ve offended her.

Good.

It’s better if she hates me.

That way, she’ll stay away from me.

Mom glares at me, clearly embarrassed by my lack of manners. “I really don’t think—”

“She can sign it or leave.” I’m adamant.

There’s a beat of silence—the kind that’s so heavy it crushes every bone in your body—but I don’t waver, keeping my eyes on Hadley as though I’m waiting for her to crumble under my gaze.

She doesn’t return the eye contact this time.

“It would be a good way to make sure everything that happens in this house stays in this house,” Drea backs me up.

Conflicted, my mom offers her goddaughter an apologetic smile. “Would you mind?”

Hadley doesn’t argue. “Not at all.”

We’ve just migrated over to the kitchen to put the dishes away when Drea excuses herself to her room to grab the paperwork.

Hadley and I don’t say another word or even look at each other again for the next ten minutes. Well, she doesn’t look at me, but mentally, I’m all over that ass.

Once Drea comes back with one of our standard NDAs, Hadley asks for some time to read it over before she signs it. She’s careful, I get it, but she’s going to have to sign it one way or another.

The last thing my reputation needs is my childhood crush giving the press exclusives about me.

She goes through the whole thing, signs it, and retreats to her room a little after we’ve cleaned the kitchen. I pick up the contract, flipping the pages to make sure it’s signed properly.

My mouth stretches into a grin when I see the name she put down above her signature.

Hadley Fuck-You Queen.

A scoff leaves my lips.

Someone’s feisty.

Scar announces that he’s going surfing a few minutes later, and Drea, who’s sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, addresses him for the first time today. “Hey, Cahill, if you see a shark, don’t forget to swim toward it.”

“Appreciate the tip.” Scar flips her off seconds before he walks out.

Glad to see these two are talking again.

I think back to Hadley’s ponytail swaying in every direction as she raced out of the kitchen. Her ass bouncing as she jogged up the stairs like she was in a hurry to get away from me.

This is supposed to be a break.

A vacation from the shitstorm my life has become.

But vacations aren’t supposed to feel like torture.

And that’s what living with Hadley Queen is going to be…

Fucking torture.

“How’d it go?” Jamie makes a beeline for me from the second I amble out of the office her boss led me into not even ten minutes ago.

The interview lasted seven minutes. Seven minutes. I barely had time to introduce myself before Fred, the restaurant owner’s son and Jamie’s manager, thanked me for my time and walked me out.

“It was… quick.” I give the crowded restaurant a quick scan. I knew Sandy’s was a hit around here, but I didn’t think it’d be this packed during rush hour.

What’s weirder, the restaurant is a decent size. Although it sure doesn’t look that way when you’re struggling to wedge yourself in between tables to reach the door.

She swats my shoulder. “You know that’s not what I meant. Did you get it or not?”

I don’t answer right away, keeping her in suspense, which she clearly doesn’t appreciate because she lets out an impatient “Come onnn” just seconds later.

I put her out of her misery. “I got the job.”

A big smile spreads over her face. “You did?”

“We’re officially coworkers.”

Jamie squeals, pulling me into a celebratory hug that draws a chuckle from my lips.

“You weren’t lying about the desperate part,” I say mid-hug, and she laughs.

Her boss was so fed up with working for two, he didn’t even look at my résumé or ask me if I had any waitressing experience before hiring me. Pretty sure he would’ve hired anyone who wanted the job. Not that I’m complaining.

She withdraws from the hug. “I knew you’d get it. When do you start?”

“In two days. I have to come pick up my uniform tomorrow.”

“Girl, you are in for a treat.” She gestures to the salmon-pink uniform she’s wearing.

I snort. “Bring it on.”

The sooner I start working, the sooner I can get the hell away from Kane.

God, what a dick.

I still can’t believe how obnoxious he was at breakfast.

He just wouldn’t stop staring at me—I’m talking smoldering, intense, unwavering stares. The kind that make you want to shrink into your seat, Alice in Wonderland style.

Not only did he stare so hard the weight of his scrutiny almost gave me a fucking backache, but he didn’t say a word for most of the meal, just boring through my soul without a sliver of shame.

I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to pull.

Did he want to get a rise out of me?

To make me so uncomfortable I’d pack up and leave?

Either way, it was a critical fail. His borderline-stalkerish stares didn’t make me feel nearly as uncomfortable as they should have.

On the contrary…

It felt like his eyes were lighting matches all over my skin, leaving a trail of electricity and goose bumps in their wake. Don’t ask me why. My body better get its shit together before I hit that bitch with a cease and desist.

I shouldn’t find him attractive. The asshole essentially called me a snitch and said I couldn’t be trusted, which is grand coming from the guy who betrayed my trust by hopping on a plane the day after he took my first kiss.

I looked him dead in the eyes at one point, hoping he’d take the hint and lay off the ogling, but it didn’t faze him one bit. If anything, it only made things worse.

“Damn it, my break’s over,” Jamie declares after glancing at the clock on the far wall. “We still on for girls’ night?”

“You know it.”

She looks back at me over her shoulder as she walks. “Don’t forget to bring your appetite. My friend Brooke’s making her famous guacamole.”

“One last thing. Would it be okay if I invite someone? There’s this girl who works for Kane, and she seems really—”

She interrupts me. “Say no more. If you like her, I like her. I’ll see you two tonight.”

I offer her a thankful smile. “Sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

I’ve just walked out of the restaurant when my phone pings with a notification from the group chat with Vince and Cal. Jamie added me as soon as she left the beach house yesterday.

Most of the conversation consists of the guys blowing up each other’s phones with memes, but it’s been great getting to talk to them again. We’re all supposed to hang out later this week, just like old times.

Of course, it’ll never be exactly like old times. Gray is gone, and Kane is obviously way too cool to hang out with us mere mortals, but we’re not going to let that stop us from having the summer of our lives.

I check out the boys’ messages as I climb into my mom’s car. I’m hoping I’ll be able to borrow it for the rest of the summer as she’s supposed to be riding with Evie.

I check the time on my phone before starting the engine. I have four more hours before I have to be at Jamie’s for dinner and cocktails. Plenty of time to get myself to look presentable to meet her friends.

I pad inside the beach house twenty minutes later, the dread sinking into my stomach overpowering the excitement I was feeling just seconds ago.

I drop Mom’s car keys into the bowl by the door before kicking off my shoes and beelining for the kitchen.

It’s empty.

So is the dining room.

I assume everyone’s stepped out to enjoy the sun until I hear what sounds like an argument in the distance.

“Motherfucker, you’re not going to win this one.”

I halt my steps.

“Watch me.” I recognize Kane’s voice.

They’re in the living room.

“Stop cheating!” The other voice belongs to Scar.

I don’t miss a beat, spinning and walking away. I’m not in the mood for Kane’s blunt remarks and rude staring. Although, I did want to ask Drea if she’d like to come tonight.

She seems nice, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to have an ally in this house. Might help me get through the summer.

I debate on going through the house to find her but quickly talk myself out of it, deciding to head upstairs to try and hide the dark circles under my eyes instead.

I’m afraid even my best concealer won’t be able to mask my exhaustion. I couldn’t go back to sleep after seeing Kane and his sober sponsor in the bathroom this morning.

I just kept staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment when they caught me eavesdropping.

He seemed shocked to see me.

And judging by the small snippet of conversation I overheard this morning, his mom had neglected to tell him she’d invited us to live with them for the summer.

I want them gone, he told his mom, dead set on kicking us out.

Good thing Evie knew just what to say to change his mind.

As much as I hate sharing a house with Lucifer, my mom deserves this vacation with her best friend. And I can’t afford to drop a few hundred dollars on a room when I should be saving up for school.

I was hiding out in the hall next to the kitchen when Drea came up behind me and caught me listening to their conversation.

She didn’t say anything or ask me what I was doing, but the amused smile dancing on her lips told me I was busted.

My growling stomach leads me back downstairs an hour later. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m going to need a snack to hold me over until dinner.

The guys are still bickering in the living room, but I easily tune them out, checking myself in the hall mirror on my way to the kitchen.

I went a little overboard, I’ll admit. I usually apply a few coats of mascara and call it a day, but I wanted to make a good impression, so I did winged eyeliner.

I’m hoping my laid-back outfit balances out my makeup. My skinny jeans and washed-out T-shirt are as casual as you can get.

I smile when I scan Gray’s Star Wars T-shirt in the mirror.

It says “Who Da Man? Yoda Man.”

Mom donated most of Gray’s things a few years back, but I kept all of his funny quotes T-shirts.

Every single one of them.

I’ve just entered the kitchen to fix myself a snack when Drea’s voice cuts through the first floor. “Okay, now that was definitely cheating.”

She’s here.

This is my chance to ask her.

I waltz into the living room and find Scar and Kane playing foosball by the electric fireplace—I have no idea where that foosball table even came from because it definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

Drea is curled up on the large sectional, alternating between watching the guys and scrolling on her phone. Her face lights up when she sees me. “Oh, hey, Hadley.”

Kane’s head whips in my direction as soon as my name is uttered.

His smile dies down instantly.

It’s as though I sucked all the fun out of the atmosphere just by being here.

I ignore him. “Since when do we have a foosball table?”

“Since His Majesty decided he wanted one.” Scar gestures to Kane with his chin. “Sent me all the way across town to get it. What am I, your fucking servant?”

“Can’t have people knowing he’s here, remember?” Drea interjects.

“And? I didn’t sign up to be his errand boy.”

Drea chuckles. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of the errand boy by default. His name is literally the most searched name on the internet right now. We need to keep him out of the public eye until the dust settles.”

“Why can’t you go? And how do you know people won’t recognize me? I’m part of the band, too, aren’t I?” Scar argues.

“Because I’m working. And yeah, people might recognize you, but no one actually cares because you’re not the star. If you were to quit tomorrow, we could get another drummer, but we can’t find another Kane—no offense.” Drea tops it off with a shit-eating grin, and it makes me like her even more.

I stop paying attention to their bickering and chance a glance toward Kane. Sure enough, he’s still staring at me.

Only now, he seems angry.

“Whatever,” Scar grumbles, glancing back at Kane. “Let’s finish this shit.”

Kane doesn’t even look at him. “Nah, I’m going back to bed. I’m beat.”

On that note, he storms out.

It takes me a moment to realize what just happened.

Did he just run out of the room at the mere sight of me?

Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of the summer?

Like I have no say over my own actions, I spin and follow him. I won’t tolerate being treated like I have the plague every time I walk into a room.

“Hey!” I call seconds before he reaches the stairs.

Kane stops but doesn’t turn around.

I slow down next to him, but I don’t wait for him to look at me before I blurt, “What the hell is your problem?”

He spins to face me, his fists rolling into tight balls as he stares daggers at me. “What problem?”

I almost laugh.

“Are we really going to pretend like you didn’t just bolt out of the room to avoid me?”

He shrugs, his green eyes pools of darkness. “Who says I’m avoiding you?”

And now he’s acting dumb.

I move closer, my confidence dwindling when his tall frame towers over me. “I haven’t done anything to you. And I sure as hell don’t deserve whatever that was.”

I think I see a drop of guilt shooting across his gaze, but he chases it away too quickly for me to be sure.

“I get it, you don’t want me living in your house. Well, guess what, superstar? I don’t want to be here either, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you like anything less than a fucking human being.”

God knows I should treat him like dog shit after what he did to me. He made young Hadley’s wildest dream come true before ripping it away.

He didn’t have to kiss me the day before he left. Especially when he knew there would be no tomorrow for us.

He didn’t have to set my heart on fire and watch it burn.

But he did.

Still, I’m going to be cordial with him. I’m going to smile when our moms are in the room, and I’m going to pretend like I don’t wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

“From now on, you’re going to treat me with basic human decency, you got that?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his glare hinting at the shock he’s trying to snuff out.

He scans my face, zeroing in on my mouth for a split second, and plunges his gaze back into mine. “Fine.”

Then he disappears up the stairs.

A clapping sound startles me. “Okay, you have got to show me how you did that.”

I glance over my shoulder and find Drea gaping at me from the doorway. How long has she been standing there?

“How I did what?”

She makes her way over. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to knock some sense into that jackass? Kane Wilder doesn’t listen, and he sure as hell doesn’t admit when he’s wrong.”

“Technically, he didn’t say that,” I point out.

“Yeah, but he didn’t argue either. He just stood there and took it. I mean, shit, girl. Are you a wizard?”

Her question makes me laugh.

“I wish.” If I were, I would go back in time and stop Gray from going to work that day.

She gestures to follow her to the living room. “Come on, I need to pick your brain.”

Scar is sitting in the one-seater, scrolling on his phone, when we come in, but I catch him eye-fucking Drea when she’s not looking. The heat in his eyes is impossible to miss.

Drea and I spend the next forty-five minutes making small talk, and I find out that she’s the furthest thing from an open book.

She’s vague in the way she answers my questions, and humor seems to be her go-to whenever she doesn’t want to talk about something, but I still manage to learn a few things about her—like the fact that her full name is Andrea and that she only got the job as Kane’s publicist because his old manager, Joshua, used to date her mom.

She makes that Josh guy sound like such a good guy.

What kind of saint would help out his ex’s daughter?

And why do I get the feeling that his nice-guy persona is a load of shit?

From the few articles I’ve read online, Joshua Caldwell is known as a generous, compassionate man who donates tons of money to charities every year.

I can’t help thinking that if he was a saint, Kane wouldn’t have gone off on him like that. He wouldn’t have attacked him unless he had a reason to.

Or maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe I don’t know who Kane is anymore.

The conversation shifts to our interests, and I almost squeal when she mentions her favorite show. Turns out she’s a reality TV lover just like me.

I’ve been hooked on this show about a house full of exes that went through horrible breakups. I mean the “block-you-on-all-socials” type of breakups. We end up promising each other that we’ll watch it together from now on. They put out a new episode every week.

My phone chimes with a text from Jamie not long after.

JAMIE

Got off early. Come over whenever.

I shove my phone into my pocket and wonder if I should ask Drea after all.

There’s a reason I only have one friend in college. I’ve grown wary of female friendships after seeing how shady and backstabbing some girls can be. But then again, just because I’ve been burned in high school doesn’t mean every girl is Regina George the Second.

“Hey, so, I’m having dinner and drinks with some friends tonight. Want to come?”

Her features twist with hesitation. “That sounds great, but I’m supposed to be working on a game plan to get this troublemaker—” She points to the second floor, obviously referring to Kane. “—back into Hollywood’s good graces.”

“Go,” Scar intervenes. “You’ve been busting your ass to keep his career afloat since the accident. You still have two months to get him out of trouble. Just go. I promise you can take one night off without the world ending.”

She stops to think.

Scar’s comment seems to do the trick because it isn’t long before Drea brings her focus back to me, a smile dancing on her face. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“There’s no way!” My voice travels through Jamie’s backyard as I stumble down the creaky deck stairs, clutching a bottle of rosé.

I’m not going to lie, I’m buzzed. Hell, I might even be a little drunk. Knowing me, I’m going to have to slow down before I start laughing for no reason.

Worst part is, I promised myself I’d keep the drinking to a minimum tonight. But then Jamie introduced us to her delicious mojitos, and, well… I got a little carried away.

We finished eating a few minutes ago, and Jamie suggested that we head outside to enjoy a nice fire. We plop down onto the patio chairs forming a circle around Jamie’s stone firepit a moment later.

“I swear on my life. She went to those AA meetings for a year just because she had a crush on one of the guys there.” Jamie exposes her friend Brooke.

Drea gasps. “An entire year?”

“But you barely even drink.” Shay, another friend of Jamie’s, calls her out.

Brooke covers her face with her hands. “In my defense, I was going through a major dry spell.”

I chuckle. “Was he really that hot?”

She starts fanning herself dramatically. “Oh Jesus, yes. He was like sex on a fucking stick, with tattoos and muscles. Hottest guy I’ve ever seen, hands down.”

“Did something happen, at least?” Drea asks.

Jamie erupts into laughter as she rises off her chair to get the fire started. “She wishes.”

“He had a girlfriend back home,” Brooke shamefully admits.

Drea’s mouth falls open. “Wait, so, you spent a year going to AA meetings when you don’t even have a drinking problem for nothing?”

“I have no regrets.” Brooke sticks her hands up, making the five of us laugh harder.

This night is going even better than I thought it would. Brooke and Shay are hilarious, but I shouldn’t be surprised, considering they’re Jamie’s friends. Of course they’d be just as funny as she is.

Shay is a gorgeous, tanned, short-haired brunette with a shy personality. And it’s not just her hair that’s short. I’d say she’s five-foot-two at most.

Brooke is the polar opposite.

She’s loud, opinionated, and the kind of girl who pretends to have a drinking problem as an excuse to get close to a guy. Although something tells me she doesn’t usually have a hard time finding a date.

The girl is a stunner with her long blonde hair, slim figure, and piercing blue eyes. She’s also tall enough to be a model, but she wears heels anyway. As a way to flush out the shorties, she says.

She mentioned she always wears stilettos on first dates to make sure the guy isn’t shorter than her. Basically, any guy under six-foot-something gets blocked and ghosted.

“Okay, we’ve been over my embarrassing guy stories. Somebody else go.” Brooke laughs before glancing around our circle. “Jamie, got any embarrassing girl stories?”

Jamie laughs. “Where do I start?”

Jamie’s got more stories than anyone I know. Might have something to do with the fact that she came out when we were very young.

We couldn’t have been older than eleven when she first told me. I remember the day it happened perfectly. We were hanging out at the park in Golden Cove when she jumped down the monkey bars, looked at me, and said, “I think I like girls.”

Mom has a good friend, Lena, who’s married and has three children with a woman. Girls liking girls was nothing I’d never seen before, and I honestly couldn’t have cared less.

In response, I nodded and said, “Okay.”

Then we went on with our day.

Jamie proceeds to tell us all sorts of hilarious stories about the girls she’s dated. Drea follows suit, telling us stories that make me laugh so hard my stomach starts to ache.

Apparently, some guy she was dating asked her to save all of her used tampons and ship them to his house. Something about wanting to cherish every part of her.

And they say romance is dead.

Brooke eventually asks Drea if she’s got some sex stories to share, and I figure she’s going to end it there.

Until she casually says, “My boss walked in on me getting railed by my coworker.”

My jaw drops.

She was very careful with the words she chose.

My boss.

My coworker.

Jamie and I are the only ones who know she works for Kane. I have no doubt Jamie would never talk to the media—she’s never even told Brooke and Shay that she knew Kane as a kid—but I understand why Drea didn’t give them names.

We don’t know who we can trust.

Not without an NDA, anyway.

“Holy shit. By who?” Brooke asks.

Drea’s cheeks flare. “Just… some guy.”

I bet it’s Scar.

I see the way he looks at her.

Like he wants to pin her up against the wall and devour her. Holy shit… that would mean Kane walked in on them while they were fucking.

Or maybe she’s talking about someone else, and Scar is just checking her out because he has eyes.

Drea is a rare beauty, and that’s putting it mildly. She has butt-length, dark purple ombre hair, porcelain-pale skin, and big hazel eyes. She’s that girl who can pull off any hair color, and from what I’ve seen when I stalked her on Instagram—I was curious, sue me—she changes hair color often.

I’m having so much fun I only realize how late it is when my eyes begin to water from my constant yawning. I’m still a little drunk, and we’ve been talking nonsense for so long, it’s almost one in the morning.

I’m supposed to go pick up my uniform at Sandy’s early tomorrow, and I was hoping to spend my last day of freedom on the beach. If I don’t go to bed soon, I’m just going to end up sleeping the day away.

I ask Drea if she wants to head home and she nods.

We say our goodbyes shortly after.

Drea and I are drained by the time we get back to the beach house.

I was worried she was going to fall asleep at the wheel for a second there. Had to select the most upbeat playlist I have on my phone and blare music the entire ride home.

“Thanks for the invite. I’m glad I said yes,” Drea tells me as I’m unlocking the door.

“Of course,” I say mid-yawn.

We exchange good-nights, and Drea races up the stairs, as if in a hurry to doze off. I’m right there with her. All I want is my head on a pillow.

Too bad my tolerance is shit, and I just know if I don’t chug a gallon of water right now, I’m going to wake up with a headache.

The house is dark and quiet as I glide down the hall toward the kitchen. I open the cabinet and pull out the biggest glass I can find before heading for the sink.

Right as I begin filling up the glass, I hear something.

At least, I think I do.

I twist the water off to listen.

Someone’s playing the guitar.

I notice the kitchen window is cracked open, probably to let the night breeze inside.

I scan the backyard and large deck through the sliding glass door, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from.

It’s pitch-black outside, save for the glow of the moon and a few night-lights in the pool. I step outside without even realizing it, drawn closer to the music.

That’s when I hear him.

Kane’s raspy voice is close to a murmur, but the lyrics he sings wrap me up like cashmere. I feel them everywhere, soft and warm despite the chills covering my arms.

It feels like someone’s constricting my lungs and replacing the air in them with pain. My sight adjusts to the darkness moments later, and I find Kane sitting on one of the pool loungers, a guitar on his lap.

He hasn’t seen me yet, his back turned.

There’s something so raw and heartfelt about the way he sings. Years later and nothing has changed. Scratch that—everything has changed, but not this.

Not his gift.

He’s still incredible, although his voice has matured.

It’s deeper, rippling with warmth and confidence. He’s not the same apprehensive, self-conscious kid he was when he was fifteen. Back when his father made fun of him for his love of music.

I’m surprised I didn’t realize how much progress he’s made when Maggie made me listen to his albums. His new songs don’t show off his voice nearly as much as this one does.

They don’t make you feel like someone just jabbed a knife into your chest and pulled it out so brutally it ripped your heart in two. His new stuff is commercial, soulless trash compared to this.

The song comes to an end a few seconds later, and I regain control of my body, turning away before Kane catches me.

“Some things never change, do they, Hads?” His voice stops me in my tracks.

Has he known this whole time?

He rests his guitar on the lounger and rises to face me. He seems to be waiting for me to explain myself because he doesn’t speak after that.

“I’m sorry, I was just…”

A sexy smirk tugs at his mouth. “Eavesdropping? Yeah, I gathered.”

That’s what he was talking about when he said some things never change.

My eavesdropping is the only reason I even found out he could sing five years ago. It all started here. In this very house. In the sunroom where I caught him singing “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls—how ironic that it also happened to be the song that kicked off his career.

Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d never posted that damn video.

Would Kane still be one of the most famous male artists in the world?

Would he still be making music?

Would we have ended up together?

“I see sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong is still your MO.”

I decide to own up to it. “Looks like it.”

He seems a bit startled by my response. I think he’s going to say something. Until he shakes his head and turns to leave.

“Why don’t you put out more songs like this?” I blurt out.

He halts. “Songs like what?

I may not be a fan of Kane Wilder as a person, but I can’t deny that I’m a fan of his music. I mean his real music.

The words are out of my mouth before I can close it. “Songs that sound like the real you.”

He stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Meaning?”

I tilt my head as I analyze him. The moon’s glow highlights the side of his jaw, the sharp curve even more prominent like this.

God, this boy fascinates me.

Artistically.

He fascinates me artistically.

“Meaning your other songs don’t have a soul. This one does.”

My comment irritates him. “No offense, but you don’t know shit about what makes a good song.”

Maybe he’s right.

But it doesn’t stop me from saying, “I know I haven’t heard you sing with this much passion in years.”

My words seem to flip a switch in his brain because he responds by taking slow, intentional footsteps toward me.

He doesn’t stop until his scent tickles my nostrils and he’s so close to me I can feel my heart pumping adrenaline into my bloodstream.

His cocky smirk irritates me. “So, you’re a fan? Is that what you’re saying?”

Of course he’d rather take a jab at me for having listened to his music than consider I might be right.

“My roommate’s a fan,” I correct him. “She thinks your songs are the best thing since sliced bread.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“Honestly? No.”

I think I see pain flash in his eyes.

Maybe that was a little harsh.

His other songs aren’t terrible. People obviously like them, or he wouldn’t be this successful, but I just know they’re nothing compared to the amazing tracks he’d come out with if his label let him express himself as an artist.

“I like ‘I’m Still Yours,’ but the rest just… don’t do it for me.”

I expect him to get mad after that last comment, but he doesn’t, walking back to the lounger to pick up his guitar.

“Tell me about it,” he mutters.

Intrigued, I follow him, intending to keep the questions coming, but my voice leaves me when I get a good look at the guitar in his hand.

It’s no secret that Kane is loaded.

He’s been working nonstop for the past five years, and he’s so famous most people’s grandmas know who he is—that’s how you know someone’s made it.

I’m sure the seven million dollars he spent on the beach house didn’t even make a dent in his bank account. So, someone tell me why in the ever-loving hell does he still have the guitar I bought him when he was fifteen…?

The black guitar gives my heart a squeeze.

This thing is old.

Like old old.

It was already old when I got it off Craigslist with my babysitting money five years ago, which means it’s practically a relic now.

“You still have it,” I whisper.

He waits for me to elaborate.

I point to the guitar in his hand. “You… You should have another one by now. A nicer one.”

“Says who?” He shrugs and throws open the case on the floor before sliding his guitar inside.

Odds are he has a bunch of them and he only uses this one when he’s playing for fun. Either way, he most definitely didn’t keep the guitar because I gave it to him.

I push the thought aside, clearing my throat. “Do they not let you write your own songs?

He throws the strap of his case over his shoulder, eyes darkening as he grits out, “Why would they do that when they have an entire fucking village of songwriters with a thousand hit songs under their belt, just waiting to pop out a catchy tune?”

That’s bullshit.

Surely, they know Kane is a gifted songwriter by now. “I’m Still Yours” stayed in the charts’ top ten for months and months after it released.

“They let you put out ‘I’m Still Yours,’ though.”

“Yeah, but only because it matched my brand.”

I have to admit his other songs are much darker. Like “Golden Cage,” for example. He wrote it when we were kids. It mentioned his dad’s abuse and how he resented Evie’s decision to stay with him in spite of it all.

There’s also the one I heard earlier.

The one talking about how the real monster is him. How he feels guilty and his sins are haunting him. I’m not sure what this one is about, but it’s not exactly the type of song you would expect from America’s heartthrob.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a fucking product, Hadley. I’m a puppet. I exist to fill a bunch of old fucks’ pockets. Doesn’t matter what I want to sing about. If people want love songs, then they’re going to get some fucking love songs.”

That’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it?

What the public wants.

Young girls are his target audience, and most of them want romance. They want to feel special, like they’re being serenaded by their celebrity crush. His label probably thinks no one will relate to what he’s been through.

Realization finds me.

Didn’t his label let him go after the Joshua disaster?

“I thought your label dropped you?”

“They did,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Isn’t that a good thing? It means you’re free. You can sing about whatever you want now, can’t you?”

He scoffs, looking at me like I’m a child who needs to be reminded how the world works. “It’s not that simple.”

On that note, he sets off toward the house. I’m certain that’s the end of our conversation until he stops and looks back at me.

“Hads?” The nickname sends shivers crawling up my spine.

I hate that nickname.

It makes him sound like the boy I used to know.

“Yeah?”

His voice comes out in a low rasp. “You were right earlier. When you said I was avoiding you. I was being a dick.”

A normal guy would follow that up with an apology, but an admission is all I get before he disappears inside the house. He didn’t apologize for disrespecting me. Not even close. But he did admit to his wrongdoing.

It’s not much.

But I’ll take it.