Page 55 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I’m fucking scared.

Scared to see Kane again.

Scared that I’ll look him in the eyes and see a stranger.

Or worse.

That I’ll recognize him.

The boy I knew.

The boy who once threw himself at a guy three times his size to protect his mom.

That boy had broken ribs, a broken guitar, and an even more broken soul, so it should come as no surprise that in the end, he was the one to break my heart.

I’ve been drifting in and out of sleep for hours now. I’m exhausted, but I can’t get my thoughts to stop racing long enough for my body to relax.

Oh, and I have to pee.

I have to pee so freaking bad my bladder might explode if I don’t go soon. I should’ve known better than to down three of Evie’s famous margaritas with dinner.

It’s a little after 5:00 a.m. when I roll out of bed and make my way to the second-floor bathroom.

The house is dark, bordering on creepy, as I rub my eyes and slink down the hall.

I’m so out of it I only notice the light peeking underneath the door once I’m a few feet away. I realize the shower is running in the background and stop dead.

That’s when I hear him.

“Are you deaf? I told you to leave.”

Holy shit.

Kane?

“You had a long flight. Let me help you relax,” someone answers.

It’s a woman’s voice.

I’d say she’s in her twenties.

No one speaks for the next few seconds, but the sound of a zipper and the sharp breath leaving Kane’s lips tells me Mystery Girl is not the quitting type.

“Get your fucking hands off my cock if you want to keep your job.”

Her job?

Wait…

She works for him?

I remember Evie mentioning he was bringing a few of his employees with him.

There was his publicist.

And his sober sponsor.

“Stop bitching. I know you want me.” The girl ignores his threat.