Page 186 of Broken Lines

“It wasn’t always a party, you know. You think Iwantedto blow some fucking roadie so that you and I could share a hotel room, and not—”

“I really don’t think you want me answering that question—”

I gasp, blinking tears as the slap stings sharply across my cheek. I swallow, my face throbbing as I swivel my gaze lethally to hers.

She just glares at me.

“Do I need Dr. Konrad to start you on your meds again?”

I stiffen.

“So you can shut me up!?”

“So that you stop trying sabotageoursuccess!” Her eyes narrow. “Well?”

My eyes drop. My head shakes side to side.

“No.”

“What was that?”

“No,” I hiss thinly. “I don’t need to go back on the meds.”

“Good!”

She smiles as she turns on her heel and marches back to her seat across from me. When I keep my gaze locked on my plate, she sighs.

“Melody, for the last time. Whatever you think you had with that man?” She lifts a shoulder. “They’re all the same, men like Jackson. And life is an exchange, whether you want to pretend otherwise or not. You got something you needed from him. And, obviously,hegot something fromyou,” she smirks.

I resist the urge to throw up.

I know he hates me. After the voicemail I left him? After that article with my name on it? Yeah, he definitely hates me. But if he comes near me, or if I try to go to him, Judy will ruin him.

Irreparably.

The gross lies about him being my father are one thing. But Judy’s stacked the deck. Along with Dr. Konrad’s fake assault report, she’s got some old groupie friends of hers on her payroll willing to lie and claim they had flings with Jackson when they were fourteen.

If I try and reach out to him, or if he tries to come near me, Judy will let it all air out. And they’ll burn him at the stake of public opinion.

“Now, eat your dinner. The car will be downstairs in half an hour, and we are not going to be late. We aregoingto be at that production wrap party, and then we will be front and center for Kurt’s show, like a happy fucking family.”

As if on cue, the door opens behind me, and a now-familiar coldness, and numbness creeps over me.

The footsteps move across the floor behind me—shaking me, making my stomach clench nauseously, turning my skin ashen and cold. And when he drops his hands to my shoulders, I physically flinch as something inside of me curls in on itself to hide, or die.

“Kurt, baby,” my mom gushes past me to the man looming behind me. “You should get going!”

He laughs—and it’s the same cold, toxic laugh I remember from years ago.

“Alright, I’ll see you babes there?”

“You bet!” My mom grins as I die a little more inside.

Kurt chuckles.

“Perfect.”

His hands squeeze my shoulders.