Page 170 of Please Hate Me

The second he was off the stage, I ran into his arms, knocking the wind out of his chest. He staggered back, one hand resting on the back of my head as he steadied us. Sweat from his shirt soaked into my skin, but I didn’t mind.

“Why are you crying?” A sweet, surprised laugh danced through his words.

I hugged him tighter, doing my best to pull him as close as possible. After a full minute of me sniveling into his chest, Lucian pulled back slightly, cupping my chin as he stared down at me. Tears blurred the world around us, and I tried to calm myself with shaky breaths.

His expression softened as he swept away a stray tear with the side of his thumb.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, completely unable to express even a drop in the ocean of feelings I held.

“I want to go home with you.” My words were more of a whimper than a plea.

“Where else would you go?” He smirked and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let me pack up, and we’ll hit the road.”

I nodded and cleared my throat before extracting myself from his grip to wipe my eyes.

“I think I’m going to go wash my face.”

Lucian gave me a surprisingly sympathetic smile. “Of course. Bathroom’s that way, near the front door.”

The women’s restroom tended to be a hellscape after most concerts, which left me apprehensive about venturing to the front. Luckily, this bathroom was a ghost town; the lights were dim, and the walls were dark.

I splashed cool water on my face before grabbing a paper towel. The texture felt like sandpaper on my cheek as I wiped away the remaining scraps of makeup that hadn’t been stolen by my tears. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. There was no reason for me to cry. Tonight had been perfect. Fuck,lastnight had been perfect. Literally, everything was perfect, but the fucked-up part of my mind wouldn’t let me have that. A dark, icy feeling embedded itself in the pit of my stomach.

As I stared at myself in the dirty mirror, the door cracked open. A gaggle of girls poured in, bringing with them the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume and vodka. Instantly, one of them looked in my direction.

“Oh, my god,” she slurred as she staggered toward me, one of her friends holding onto her elbow. Her hand met my cheek, and I stiffened.

“Has anyone ever told you that you lookjustlike Mason Albright?”

A laugh escaped my chest. That was nowhere near what I was expecting, but it was something I could live with.

“Sorry, I don’t know who that is.” I forced a sweet smile, one that hid my teeth.

“You don’t know whoMason Albrightis?” another girl gasped, reaching for her phone.

I thought for sure she’d pull up a music video or a photo of mine. Instead, she just typed my name into the search bar and held it up to my face. My gaze bounced around the screen before settling on the news headlines, and that’s when my heart stopped.

‘Rockstar father of Mason Albright in critical condition after car accident’

My whole body shook, and I felt sick as I stared at the screen. The world around me faded to static as blood whooshed to my ears. Instantly, I tapped on the screen, silently begging for this to be some sort of elaborate hoax.

But it wasn’t.

My knees knocked together, and I swore that I was going to collapse in the restroom. I needed to not feel like this. Not here. Not right now. I needed a distraction; I neededhim.

Frantically, I headed back towards Lucian’s dressing room, pushing through a small sea of people, keeping my head down as I did. I didn’t want to be recognized, not again. When I finally made it back to the dressing room, Lucian had just finished packing up his guitar.

He looked up, and something in me broke. For years, I had been an expert at denying tears, but now they came like a tsunami, destroying any chance I had at appearing calm. Alarm colored his dark features as he rushed over to me, grabbing me by the shoulders to keep me from collapsing to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Panic infested his words as a hand dropped to my stomach. Rosie kicked, but even the reminder of my daughter wasn’t enough to ground me.

“Th-this girl—in the bathroom, she s-saw me and looked me up, and—m-my dad—”

“I know.”

His voice was calm, his words cruel. Part of me hoped that Lucian would laugh and tell me it was made up. Instead, he had shattered what remained of my heart.

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