Page 157 of Between Never and Forever
“I gotta go. Ham again. I love you.”
“Love you,” she says, then I click over to Hammond’s call.
I don’t even have a chance to say hello before he blows up on me.
“Have you lost your fucking mind, Savannah? On a fucking roof? With someone WHO ISN’T YOUR FIANCE?”
“Not my fiancé, Ham.”
“Savannah, this is serious! I am fucking working my goddamn ass off trying to cover yours, and you can’t even stay out of trouble for a couple of months? Are you using again, too? Were you fucking high wh—”
“No, Hammond, Jesus Christ. I wasn’t high. I wasn’t drinking. I’ve been sober for almost a year. Give me some fucking credit.”
“I’ve beentryingto give you credit and then you MAKE A FUCKING SEX TAPE!”
I hold the phone away from my ear as he bellows some more. The label this. Covering my ass that. I feel fucking guilty, but it has nothing to do with Hammond or Torren. I’ve already made up my mind to go back to the band, so this fake engagement bullshit has about run its course. But this is going to piss Levi off.
He didn’t even want to be photographed with me. He’s going to lose his damn mind when he finds out the most popular skag mag in America has a three-minute video of him fucking me on the roof.
“Hammond,” I shout, trying to stop his tirade. He doesn’t even pause. “HAMMOND, shut up! I get it, okay? I’ll figure out how to fix it.”
“You better hope nobody finds out that’s not Torren with his dick in you, Savannah. You won’t be able to come back from that. Just lay fucking low until I can figure out how to clean up your messagain.”
Then he hangs up on me.
Hehangs up onme, and the role-swapping puts me even more off-center. I drag my hand down my face, then sit up and turn to Levi.
He’s sitting on the bed with his bandaged back to me. His cuts are healing, but the skin is still red and swollen around the gauze. Two days ago. Three? How long ago was it that we were sucked into those rapids? And why does it feel like this, whatever is coming, might be worse?
“Levi,” I say tentatively. He doesn’t answer, so I inch toward him on the bed. “Levi.”
I put my hand out to touch his arm, but he stands quickly, brushing off my touch and then showing me his phone. He has the article open, and he is literally shaking with anger.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Levi. They don’t know it’s you. They don’t kno—”
He hurls his phone at the wall and my words incinerate in the rage emanating from him. He turns back to me and grabs my shoulders.
“You think I’m mad about that? Is that what you think?”
My mouth opens, then shuts, and I shrug.
“Yes? You said you didn’t want the—”
“Torren fucking King, Savannah. All of America thinks you were fucking Torren King last night, but you are mine. Mine. Do you get it?”
His chest is heaving, his nostrils are flaring, and his teeth are clenched tight. The way he’s shaking should scare me, but his grip on my shoulders is still gentle. It could just as easily be a caress.
“I don’t get it,” I say honestly. “You don’t want to be in that magazine. You were adamant. You didn’t want to be in the press.”
He drops his hands and steps backward, clamping his eyes shut.
“I know. Fuck, I know.”
He drags his hands through his hair and pulls at the root, and I wince for him.
“Fuck, Savannah.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”
