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My smile was grim but relieved. How high are they?
For the past year, we’d been in the public eye but it had only been about our music.This felt . . . I didn’t like it. I wasn’t prepared for how invasive it felt. Like I was standing naked on stage.
She couldn’t know. She’d sacrificed so much for me financially, and emotionally in her relationship with Bryan, to help make my dream come true. As far as she was concerned, everything was always better than okay.I grinned, gesturing with my phone. It’ll sell more records.She laughed, relieved. True. Now grab your stuff—we’re going skating. And girl talk.
Sure. I chuckled, shooting a look at Bryan before I left.He was staring at me in a way I’d never seen before. Like I was suddenly a curiosity instead of a drain on his relationship with Mom. That’s what fame seemed to do. It made everyone see me differently—
A loud clatter shook me out of the memory and I looked around, dazed, feeling my heart beating too hard in my chest.
I was in a salon, surrounded by strangers, as a woman called Charmaine blow-dried my hair.He gently took hold of my right arm and guided me over to a black Range Rover. He pulled the door open and then helped me remove my backpack. I got in while he put my backpack in the trunk. Exhaustion hit me as I slumped against the car seat, the smell of leather and his cologne weirdly comforting. O’Dea jumped into the driver’s side.
You left a few things out on the phone. What happened? he demanded.So I told him everything about that day and the boys.
His friend hit him pretty hard, I murmured, wondering if he’d hit him too hard.There was utter silence from my right. I glanced at him out of my eye that wasn’t swollen shut. His fists were curled around the steering wheel, his knuckles white.
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