Page 232 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I’m so sorry.

Fear scrapes at my insides.

Did I miss something?

I even have a message from Maggie.

Maggie

CHECK KANE’S INSTAGRAM NOW!

I do just that, my fingers trembling as I open the app, preparing to type Kane’s name into the search bar.

Only, I don’t need to.

Because his latest post is the first thing that comes up.

The picture is all black.

Why is he posting a black picture?

The caption beneath his post sends my heart into my throat.

The truth comes out one way or another. Tune in to my final interview with Giana Sterling.

Back the fuck up.

He’s doing an interview with Giana Sterling?

The woman is a well-known TV host who conducts extra-personal interviews with “controversial” celebrities—that’s her whole brand. Every time a public figure is on the receiving end of criticism and bad publicity, her team comes calling.

Also, he said his final interview.

What on earth does that mean?

I click Kane’s profile, hoping another one of his posts will answer some of my questions.

I audibly gasp.

All of his posts are gone.

Photos from his world tours, late nights in the studio, pictures of his band. All deleted.

The only post that’s left is the one about the interview.

The comments are still on, to my surprise.

I click on the comments section to see what people are saying.

“Just watched the interview. I have no words.”

“I’m going to drown in my tears if Kane quits music. FUCK JOSHUA. Kane didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If Kane mysteriously disappears, we’ll know why.”

“JUSTICE FOR KANE. Bro did what he had to do. Not all heroes wear capes.”

What. The. Fuck.

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