Page 215 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

Damn. She’s not messing around, is she?

I’ve always liked that about her.

How blunt she is.

She always tells me how it is, like the time she tracked me down after I ruined her date with Cal and gave me hell for leaving her on Read.

Or that time she called me out for leaving any room she walked into and told me she wasn’t going to accept my disrespect.

She was also the first person to notice that I’m not passionate about the songs I sing. She didn’t hesitate to tell me that my new stuff was lacking in emotion and meaning.

Hadley’s never been afraid of anything.

But I’m nowhere near as brave as she is.

I sure as hell wasn’t brave that day.

I blow out a breath. “It was the morning after Gray died…”

* * *

THEN

“I don’t think we should do this,” I hear my drummer say, but his comment goes in one ear and out the other.

“Kane?” Scar presses when I don’t answer, glancing over at me from the passenger seat.

“Just give me a fucking minute,” I snap, guiding a hand to my right temple and rubbing to alleviate my headache.

We’ve been parked across the street from the police station for over an hour.

I know we’re going to have to go in sooner or later, but a part of me is terrified that marching through those doors will make last night real.

As long as I don’t walk up to that police station and tell them Brody Richards is a murderer, then maybe…

Gray doesn’t have to be dead.

Maybe he can be just fine.

Maybe… I can close my eyes without picturing my best friend lying in a puddle of his own blood.

Fuck.

I clench my jaw to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my face.

Brody’s threats has been playing in my head like a broken record since last night.

“You’ll lose everything, you know that, right? You’ll go down as an accomplice. We’ll tell them you planned the whole thing with us. That you’re one of those bored celebs looking for a thrill and that you offered to drive. It’ll be your word against ours.”

Brody might be a professional manipulator and a narcissist, but he’s not stupid. As soon as he managed to stop puking, the fucker realized he needed to cover his own tracks.

First thing he said was “You’re not going to tell a soul what happened tonight, you got me?”

When I tell you I almost laughed at how fucking delusional he was.

I would’ve thrown myself at him and beat him into a pulp if it weren’t for the gun still in his trembling hands. Axel and Dean immediately gave Brody their word, promising to stay quiet, but Scar and I didn’t make a sound.

“You got me?” Brody snarled, urging us to reply, and for a moment, I thought he was going to put a bullet in our heads, too.

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