Page 102 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

So what if his career’s going up in flames?

He still doesn’t look up. “Fine.”

“Are you? Because after the day you’ve had, I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.”

Goddamn it, Hadley. Why are you so invested in his well-being?

“You heard, huh?”

I sit next to him on the piano bench, earning myself some eye contact. He looks surprised that I sat down but doesn’t question it.

“That I did. Your girlfriend’s got quite the imagination.”

He barely lets me finish before saying, “She is not my fucking girlfriend.”

That’s when it hits him.

He looks up, staring at me in shock. “Wait… you don’t believe her?”

“Not even a little.”

A bitter scoff rips from his throat. “Well, that makes you the only one.”

I’m not going to lie, things aren’t looking good for Kane. This Tate girl has been going around giving interviews to everyone and their mothers, talking about how Kane once put his hands on her.

How his extreme jealousy and possessiveness did their relationship in.

She basically implied that Kane lashed out at Joshua because they’d gotten into a fight a few minutes prior, and he couldn’t accept that she wanted to break up.

She painted him as an abusive boyfriend and an absolute dick overall. If dragging someone’s name through the mud was a career, Tate Zimmer would be employee of the fucking month.

The media ate that shit up, creating scandalous headlines full of clickbait to make Kane look like an unredeemable monster.

I’ve known this guy since I was in diapers. He’s not perfect, but he wouldn’t just go around attacking people because he had a fight with his girlfriend.

And I’m pretty sure he’d rather eat a jar of toenails than lay a hand on a woman. He had to watch his mom get verbally abused by his father for years, and that’s assuming the bastard didn’t also assault her physically.

Fifteen-year-old Kane once threw himself at a grown man, knowing he was going to get his ass handed to him, all because he wanted to protect his mom.

I believe he would die for Evie, no questions asked. No way in hell is he capable of doing what this girl is claiming he did.

“Let me guess. Crazy ex-girlfriend gives exclusive for her five minutes of fame?”

A low curse leaves his lips. “She wishes.”

I wait for him to explain.

He cringes as though he hates the story he’s about to share. “Tate and I fucked. Once. We were at the same movie premiere in New York. I got shit-faced at the after-party, and the paparazzi caught us getting into a car together. They followed us all the way back to my hotel and parked their asses outside until she came out the next day, wearing the same clothes. From there, people lost their fucking minds.

“Josh was adamant that I keep my dating life out of the media. He said my fans wanted me single, and I was free to do whatever the fuck I wanted behind closed doors, as long as the world thought I was available. He seemed to think it would affect album sales or some shit. I managed not to be seen with women for the first four years of my career. Except for that one time.”

Of course, one time was all it took.

“Thing is, when the news came out, album and ticket sales didn’t plummet like he thought they would. They fucking exploded. The dating rumors earned us so much attention that Tate gained a million followers overnight, and I gained three times that.”

“I bet Tate liked that very much.”

“She fucking loved it. The media kept reaching out, asking to speak with her, and her makeup brand started selling out. That’s when she turned into a next-level clinger. She started entertaining the nonsense, playing the part so that she’d get more brand deals. It was a fucking nightmare not being able to say anything, but Josh insisted that it was great exposure and that instead of denying it right off the bat, I should let people run with it for a while.

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