P.S. I’m Still Yours: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Silver Springs)

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been rendered speechless in my life…

This time is different, though, because I’m more than just speechless.

I’m fucking dying.

“Brody Richards?” I’m crying so hard I can barely get the monster’s name out. “H-He killed my brother?”

I don’t know why I’m asking. I already know the answer.

I already know what he’s going to say, but I still ask stupid questions because my brain needs help processing the atrocity Kane just shared with me.

Kane can’t bring himself to speak, his jaw clenched so tight it looks uncomfortable.

A tear rolls down his face.

And he nods.

I rise off the bench, seconds away from collapsing to my knees when Kane’s arms jump to my waist to hold me up.

I recoil, pushing him off me with a gutting “Don’t touch me.”

Brody Richards shot my brother in the head.

He killed Gray in cold blood.

And Kane knew.

I’ve only ever known Brody as Finn Richards’s older brother and Dean’s best friend. I used to date this guy Ben, and Dean was his older brother. They were two years older than us, and so we didn’t run in the same circle.

I knew Gray had landed himself on Brody’s bad side after getting into a fight at a party, but shit, I had no idea that fight was about me.

Gray wanted to defend me.

And it got him killed.

“I’m so sorry.” Kane’s broken rasp pierces my heart right in the middle.

He’s sorry?

My shock evolves into rage. “How fucking dare you call yourself his friend?”

He glances down at his feet.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I cry out, my breathing out of control. “If I hadn’t found out when I did, would you have ever told me the truth?”

He doesn’t say anything, tears streaming down his face.

That’s my answer.

“You were going to let me wonder for the rest of my life, weren’t you?”

Still, he says nothing.

“Why?” I’m hysterical at this point, my entire body consumed by tremors and violent sobs. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”

I immediately know I can’t handle whatever response he’s about to give me. I can’t handle another piece of information when I’m having a mental breakdown.

“You know what? I can’t. I just…” I wipe my face swiftly, failing to pull myself together. “I can’t do this.”

Then I do the only smart thing I’ve done all summer.

I turn…

And leave Kane Wilder behind…

It’s funny how the worst betrayals come from the people closest to you.

How the people you’d trust with your life can make you wish you were dead at a moment’s notice.

I might not be dead yet, but I sure as hell feel like it.

I’m sure I look like it, too.

I haven’t left my bed in forty-eight hours except to go to the bathroom and shove whatever food I could find into my mouth—anything to get my stomach to shut up.

I thought going back to school would make everything better, but it turns out I’m just as depressed at the dorms as I was at my mom’s.

It’s been four weeks.

Four weeks of wasting away in bed, battling inner demons and wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with what I know.

Four weeks of ignoring my friends because I’m too busy trying to survive to answer their messages.

I unlock my phone with a swipe of my thumb, scrolling through all the texts I’ve ignored.

JAMIE

Girl, what in the FUCK is going on?

JAMIE

I can’t believe you just left town without saying goodbye. You know I’m not mad at you for what happened at the bonfire, right? My brother acted like a douche nozzle.

JAMIE

Are you okay? No one’s heard from you in weeks.

JAMIE

Drea and I are this close to showing up at your dorm to make sure you’re alive. ANSWER US.

I tap out of our conversation and select Scar’s name.

He’s the last person I expected to hear from and, ironically, the person who’s texted me the most since I left the beach house.

SCAR

He’s not sleeping.

SCAR

Hadley, I’ve never seen him like this.

SCAR

I know that was a lot to take in but you need to hear him out. You don’t even know the whole story.

SCAR

Hadley, please. He’s off the rails.

SCAR

You’re going to have to talk to him sooner or later.

I considered blocking his number, the way I blocked Kane’s number the second I found out the truth, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

The truth is, I want Scar to update me. All the media does these days is talk about how the trial with Joshua is coming up when all I really want to know is how Kane is doing behind closed doors.

I know I shouldn’t care.

I don’t want to care.

If only I had a say in the matter.

I delete Scar’s messages before opening my conversation with Drea.

DREA

UMMM, you want to tell me what the hell happened between you and Kane?

DREA

He’s a fucking mess.

DREA

He won’t tell me anything. He just said you got into a fight?

I scoff.

A fight, huh?

If you want to call me getting my heart smashed into a thousand pieces by the person I trusted most a fight.

Memories appear before my eyes, and I cringe, failing to stop the flashbacks from invading my brain.

After Evie convinced Kane to leave the beach house for a while, I came out of the bathroom and lost it. My mom held me while I cried, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth.

Oh, and by the way, Mom, I know who killed Gray.

I packed my bags, and the next morning, Mom and I hit the road. I couldn’t sleep for a week afterward. I just kept replaying Kane’s story over and over.

I considered going to the police and telling them what I’d found out. But I figured I’d be pointing a finger at an incredibly rich and resourceful celebrity.

Would anyone even believe me?

I doubt Scar would testify against Kane. Or that Brody and his accomplice would ever admit to what they did.

My bladder urges me to get up for the second time today. I’ve just climbed out of bed when a loud knock rattles the door of my dorm.

I stop dead, Jamie’s last message coming back to me.

She said she and Drea would track me down if I didn’t answer. I convinced myself she was just trying to scare me, but what if she meant it?

It can’t be Maggie. She was spending the weekend with her new boy toy—she even knows his name this time—and texted me that she wouldn’t be back before six tonight.

I check my phone.

It’s barely 3:00 p.m.

I glance down at my disgusting pj’s. I haven’t changed clothes since Friday.

“Just a minute,” I call as I’m throwing on a large hoodie and shoving my legs into a pair of jeans.

I’m thinking Jamie and Drea would’ve announced themselves already.

One thing’s for sure: whoever it is clearly isn’t going away until I answer.

I trail to the door and grip the knob.

My jaw damn near hits the ground when I see the two police officers on the other side.

My initial thought is that someone died.

“Can I help you?”

“Hadley Queen?” the taller officer says.

Shit, did I commit a crime and don’t remember it?

“Yeah?”

“We’re here for a welfare check.”

I’m convinced I misheard them.

“A welfare check? Why?” I realize I know the answer to that question a second too late.

“Your boyfriend and your friends are worried about you. They said they haven’t heard from you in over a month.”

I’ll be damned. Jamie and Drea sent the fucking police to my house.

Back the fuck up.

Did he say I have a boyfriend?

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I correct.

“Are you sure? Because a young man’s called over five times asking us to check on you. And that’s on top of your friends calling.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I pause, giving in to curiosity. “Can I ask who the young man is?”

I already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth.

“The name’s Kane Wilder.”

HADLEY

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, but a welfare check? Seriously?

Moving dots pop up at the bottom of my screen. My phone chimes with Jamie’s and Drea’s answers a heartbeat later.

JAMIE

Considering we haven’t heard a peep from you in WEEKS, I think we were entirely justified.

DREA

We love you, bitch. You can’t just bail on us and expect us NOT to send the cops to your house.

A chuckle leaves my lips.

I just spent two hours with the police, trying to convince them that I’m not a danger to myself. If I’d known the girls were genuinely afraid for my safety, I would’ve answered them sooner.

Scratch that—I would’ve tried to answer them.

I could barely get out of bed or feed myself the first few weeks, let alone answer everybody’s messages.

HADLEY

They said Kane’s the first person who called.

Their responses come right away.

JAMIE

About that… the whole thing was sort of his idea.

DREA

I told him we hadn’t heard from you in a few weeks and he just flipped his shit.

The conflicting emotions in my chest fight for dominance.

He knew I wouldn’t answer him after what happened, but finding out I wasn’t answering others sent him spiraling.

Good.

I hope he drove himself mad with worry.

He owes me five years of misery.

The girls and I dedicate the next hour to catching up and filling each other in on what we’ve been up to in the past month—of course, I don’t tell them about Kane’s betrayal and the fact that I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night.

Shit, I’ve missed them.

I’m realizing now that isolating myself has done nothing but drag me deeper into depression. I told myself I couldn’t tell anyone what I know yet, but that doesn’t mean I have to push everyone away.

I drop onto the two-seater couch in my dorm a few hours later. I’ve showered, brushed my teeth and my hair, not to mention made myself a real meal. Safe to say this is one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.

As though I’m on a mission to ruin my own progress, I grab my phone and pull up the internet.

My fingers type out Kane’s name in the search bar before I can come to my senses.

As I predicted, every article is about how the trial will be broadcasted online two weeks from now. My stomach twists as I scroll through the comments below the article, each of them stating how excited they are for it.

Jesus, they’re talking about it like it’s reality TV.

The third article catches my attention.

Kane Wilder opens up about his struggles with alcohol.

I click the link and begin to read.

This is the only interview he’s done since he left the beach house. I’m guessing his management wants him to stay out of the public eye until the trial as a way to ensure he won’t accidentally do something to make shit worse.

In the interview, he talks about how he’s been sober for a few months. It’s basically just a bunch of “I’m a changed man” talk, which I’m sure has to do with his team wanting to salvage his image.

Good to know he hasn’t relapsed, though.

I’m about to scold myself for still giving a shit about his well-being when the door to the dorm swings open.

Maggie and her new boyfriend burst into the room, their smiles making me cringe.

I so don’t need this right now. I know it probably makes me sound bitter, but the last thing I want is to see Maggie make out with some frat guy while I’m heartbroken.

I managed to keep her in the dark about my disastrous love life up until now. She stayed with her man at the party house where he lives most of last week, and when she did come home, I was usually in class or asleep.

Something tells me I won’t be able to hide much longer.

Maggie takes one look at my face and stops dead in her tracks.

Worry creeps into her gaze. “You look horrible.”

I force a smile. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, no, I just mean… you look… not okay.” She tries to lessen the blow, but I don’t take offense to her comment. She’s right. I look like shit. I squeezed a crying session in the middle of my shower, and my face is still puffy.

Maggie doesn’t await my response, spinning on her heels and telling her flavor of the week, “Babe, I know we were supposed to hang out tonight, but would you mind if we rescheduled?”

“What? But we were supposed to catch that movie,” he protests.

“We can catch it tomorrow,” she says and pecks his mouth quickly. “Okay, bye now!”

She practically kicks him out of the dorm, and I bite back a laugh.

Maggie turns to me as soon as he’s gone, planting her hands on her hips and pinning me with a knowing look. “Start talking.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Maggie pops a gummy bear into her mouth. “I once had a guy go out to a bar to cheat on me because I was sleeping and he—” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “—‘didn’t want to wake me.’”

I snort at her story.

To be honest, I wish it was something as simple as cheating.

I wish Kane was unfaithful instead of an accomplice to my brother’s murder.

“Oh, it was bad. Extremely bad.” I give her as little info as I can.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me what happened.” It doesn’t sound like criticism but genuine confusion.

“I… I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

Oh, and by the way, the guy in question is your idol. More gummy bears?

I have no doubt she’d lose her shit if she knew Kane’s the guy who broke my heart.

“Well, did you at least ask why he did what he did? Maybe he had a damn good reason. For all you know, you would’ve done the same thing.”

“I don’t think so,” I counter.

“Look, I’m always on your side, but it seems to me like Team Hadley is missing some crucial information here. Have you even considered giving him the benefit of the doubt?”

I love Maggie to pieces, but I don’t want to see things from Kane’s perspective. It’s so much easier to hate him when I don’t put myself in his shoes.

“You want to watch a movie?” I change the subject before I do something stupid like take her advice and unblock Kane’s number.

“Sure.” She nods, rising off the couch. “Let me get my laptop.”

She makes her way to her bedroom, but her phone goes off in her pocket, halting her steps.

She pulls it out, her eyes growing in size when she looks at her screen. “No way.”

“What?”

“A drunk Kane Wilder goes off on paparazzi at LA club,” she reads out loud. “I can’t believe he’s drinking again.”

My heart drops to my stomach.

She continues reading. “It would seem the singer’s vows of sobriety have gone down the drain as Wilder was spotted drinking with friends after…”

I stop listening, my focus slipping away.

“There’s a video of him walking out of the club,” she adds.

She presses Play, and I hear what sounds like an amalgam of voices. Questions blend together, most of them revolving around the trial. A man I assume to be Kane’s bodyguard shouts, “Out of the way.”

“Kane! Kane! You talk to Joshua lately?” one man asks.

“Are you ready for the trial?” the other adds.

“How’s Tate doing?”

But the sentence that gets his attention is “Your mother should be ashamed.”

That’s what does it.

“The fuck did you just say?” Kane snaps.

Noises I can’t identify follow. I think I hear a car door closing. Then the video’s over.

“What happened?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

“His drummer held him back and got him inside the car, but Kane looked like he was ready to tear that guy’s head off,” she explains.

Holy shit.

Scar wasn’t lying when he said Kane was off the rails.

“Wait, why’d you get a notification about that?”

She nods. “I’ve got Google alerts set up. I get notified every time something with Kane Wilder’s name gets posted online.”

Of course she does.

There are fans, and then there’s Maggie.

Fuck, I can’t believe Kane relapsed.

He was doing so good. He said he would rather die than disappoint his mom again.

Tears prick at my eyelids, and I curse beneath my breath.

Why can’t I just stop caring?

“What’s wrong?” Maggie takes notice of my tears, and I dab my eyes dry with my sleeves. She sits down on the couch next to me. “Hadley, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

I’m betraying Gray.

I’m betraying my twin brother by still loving Kane.

And I do.

I love Kane.

With everything I have.

“Sorry, I’m just… my emotions are all over the place right now.”

“Come here.” Maggie opens her arms, offering me a hug I accept immediately.

It takes me a few minutes to get the waterworks under control.

“You know what you need?” Maggie’s eyes light up when we pull away.

I sniffle, wiping my tear-soaked cheeks. “Therapy?”

She laughs, but deep down, I’m sure she agrees. “Dancing. And booze. Lots of booze. There’s a party at a frat house tonight. We’re going.”

I consider my options.

A: Stay here and rot the way I’ve been doing for a month.

B: Take a day off from crying and have fun with my friend.

The answer is easy.

“Okay.”