All the air is sucked out of the room.
My lungs feel like they’re collapsing.
My heart feels like it stops.
My head feels like it implodes.
“You’re lying,” I say, the whisper on my lips but a scream in my head.
Jagger Matthews.
I struggle to process. To think straight. To refute what a part of me feels to be undeniably true.
The urge to knock the phone from Gil’s hand is strong. The impulse to grab it and read every goddamn lie that my fucking father said just as strong.
McMann grabs me before I can do either and ushers me out of the room as the reporters go apeshit at my back.
It’s just white noise.
It’s just white lights ahead.
It’s just an unbelievable pressure in my chest that increases with each and every second.
“Vince.”
“No. Don’t touch me.” I throw my arms up to push Xavier’s off me. “I just . . . I need to go. I’ve got to go . . .”
See if I have a son?
See if Bristol has been lying to me?
See if my father is right?
“I just have to go.”
