Page 201 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

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?”

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