Page 204 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“What? But we were supposed to catch that movie,” he protests.

“We can catch it tomorrow,” she says and pecks his mouth quickly. “Okay, bye now!”

She practically kicks him out of the dorm, and I bite back a laugh.

Maggie turns to me as soon as he’s gone, planting her hands on her hips and pinning me with a knowing look. “Start talking.”

* * *

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Maggie pops a gummy bear into her mouth. “I once had a guy go out to a bar to cheat on me because I was sleeping and he—” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “—‘didn’t want to wake me.’”

I snort at her story.

To be honest, I wish it was something as simple as cheating.

I wish Kane was unfaithful instead of an accomplice to my brother’s murder.

“Oh, it was bad. Extremely bad.” I give her as little info as I can.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me what happened.” It doesn’t sound like criticism but genuine confusion.

“I… I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

Oh, and by the way, the guy in question is your idol. More gummy bears?

I have no doubt she’d lose her shit if she knew Kane’s the guy who broke my heart.

“Well, did you at least ask why he did what he did? Maybe he had a damn good reason. For all you know, you would’ve done the same thing.”

“I don’t think so,” I counter.

“Look, I’m always on your side, but it seems to me like Team Hadley is missing some crucial information here. Have you even considered giving him the benefit of the doubt?”

I love Maggie to pieces, but I don’t want to see things from Kane’s perspective. It’s so much easier to hate him when I don’t put myself in his shoes.

“You want to watch a movie?” I change the subject before I do something stupid like take her advice and unblock Kane’s number.

“Sure.” She nods, rising off the couch. “Let me get my laptop.”

She makes her way to her bedroom, but her phone goes off in her pocket, halting her steps.

She pulls it out, her eyes growing in size when she looks at her screen. “No way.”

“What?”

“A drunk Kane Wilder goes off on paparazzi at LA club,” she reads out loud. “I can’t believe he’s drinking again.”

My heart drops to my stomach.

She continues reading. “It would seem the singer’s vows of sobriety have gone down the drain as Wilder was spotted drinking with friends after…”

I stop listening, my focus slipping away.

“There’s a video of him walking out of the club,” she adds.

She presses Play, and I hear what sounds like an amalgam of voices. Questions blend together, most of them revolving around the trial. A man I assume to be Kane’s bodyguard shouts, “Out of the way.”

“Kane! Kane! You talk to Joshua lately?” one man asks.

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