“Then,” I took a deep, shuddering breath, “as you all know, she and her husband, Bryan, were murdered. They were shot in the house I bought, for a stupid painting I bought as an investment. A painting. A goddamned painting.” I glared at the screen, not caring if they could see my anger. I was angry. I’d never stop being angry about it. “I got through those first six months by concentrating on finding the people who did it, so when the cops told me that their leads had gone cold . . . I’m not ashamed to say that I went off the deep end.

“The only healthy thing I did was to do what I should have done a long time ago. I told the guys that I was unhappy and that I was quitting the band. They’re amazing people. They were so supportive, and I won’t ever be able to thank them enough for always having my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.” I stopped, feeling my heart race harder the more I thought about this going live. I willed myself to be calm, to continue. “I took off backpacking through Europe. The guys knew I needed time away, but they had no idea how long I’d be gone. For just over a year, I traveled around Europe, staying in hostels, staying away from social media, avoiding the news.

“The longer I was gone, the further I drifted from who I used to be, and the pain, my grief, became more manageable. I had just enough money left to travel to Glasgow, Scotland, and that’s where I’ve been for the last eight, nearly nine months. With no money, I had no choice but to sleep in this little one-man tent I’d bought. I used to set it up in a cemetery, believe it or not. And I’d busk in the city to make money to buy food. So yeah . . . Skylar Finch was homeless for a while,” I said dryly. “At the time, it was what I needed. Surviving filled my days instead of grief. But a while ago, I made a friend.” The thought of Killian filled me with so much sorrow, I could barely breathe. “And things got better. It felt like I was waking up from a really long sleep and when I did, I couldn’t believe how much time had passed.

“I was afraid,” I admitted. “I was afraid to reach out to Austin, Brandon, and Micah, to reach out to all of you because I’d left it too long. I’d been selfish. And I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. You should know that the photos posted that outed me as ‘alive and well’ were taken right after Brandon and Micah offered me forgiveness for letting them worry about my safety for too long. I told you they’re great guys. And I spoke to Austin on the phone and we’re good too. You may not think I deserve their forgiveness, and maybe you’re right, but I have it, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.

“As to the photo that seems to show Micah and I kissing, we weren’t. It was a kiss on the cheek taken at an angle that made it look like a kiss. I’m sorry to disappoint any Miclar fans out there, but Micah and I are just friends. I love him and he loves me, but it’s in friendship. That’s all it’ll ever be.

“So . . .” I smiled wearily into the camera, “that’s where I’ve been. That’s why. I hope you can forgive me and understand that losing my mom threw me off course for a while. I also want to say, however, that this is probably the last personal thing I’ll ever post on social media. I love you all for supporting me, but I need to find happiness, and sharing the finer details of my life with the world media makes me the opposite of happy. I hope you understand, and I’m sorry if you don’t. But I have to be true to myself now. That’s all any of us can really do.”

I pressed the stop button and before I could talk myself out of it, I uploaded it onto both Twitter and Youtube. .

Truthfully, I felt shaky about it. Butterflies raged like wild things in my belly as I got into bed. But I couldn’t sleep. Not just because I worried about how the world was reacting as I laid there in that hotel room, but also because I knew what I had to do the next day.

And it was going to be a million times harder than uploading a video to social media.

* * *

I WAS AWAKE WHEN MY cell rang at six in the morning.

Knowing who it was before I even looked at the screen, I steadied myself as I reached for the phone.

“Hello?”

“What did you do?” Killian didn’t sound angry; he sounded confused.

Sitting up, I laid back against the headboard and sighed. “I did it my way.”

“I see that.”

“I’m not doing that interview.”

“I think I got that memo.”

We grew quiet for a moment and then he asked hesitantly, “Have you looked at the comments?”

Those butterflies I’d been feeling all night swarmed upward into my chest, creating a claustrophobic tightness. “No. Is it bad?”

“No, Skylar. It’s overwhelmingly positive. Gayle called me and said the media still thinks she’s your manager. She’s been getting a lot of follow-up interview requests. I told her to deny them all. You said what you had to say. It was brave. I’m proud of you.”

I closed my eyes, inadvertently squeezing out tears, and crushed the phone harder to my ear. “And here I thought I’d get a knock on the door from someone telling me I was being committed,” I cracked dryly. “I did admit to the world that I, a multimillionaire, was homeless for five months.”

“Yeah, well, your fans seem to appreciate the honesty. They also think a movie should be made about you.”

“Oh God,” I groaned at the thought. “Just what the world needs.”

“You don’t have to, but we still have the photographer and style team ready to go for this album cover shoot.”

“What time am I expected?”

“About ten.”

I trembled as I forced myself to say, “Can I meet you before then? Meet you at your office around 9:00 a.m.?”

“Of course. I miss your face.”

Fuck, it was like a stab to the heart. “Yeah, me too.” Because it was true. I did miss his face.

RICK AND ANGUS PICKED ME up from the hotel, which was a good thing because the crowd of paparazzi had grown larger since I’d posted the video. They shouted and jostled and grabbed at me as my security guards hustled me into their SUV.

I’d spent the morning in my hotel room not only getting ready for the day ahead but gathering the courage to hop back onto social media to check the comments on my video.

There was a lot of:

Skylar we love u!! Do what u gotta do! Keep healin’! <3

The beauty in their forgiveness bolstered me for what I was about to do. It reassured me that this was the right path to be on, no matter if it broke my heart.

That’s why I didn’t bother checking the newspaper articles now attached to my video. I didn’t care what the press thought. I cared what my fans thought, and the strength of their support carried me into Skyscraper Records.

Admittedly, that strength faltered as soon as I found myself standing outside his office.

Eve got up from behind her desk and hurried over to me. “Oh my God, Skylar, I had no idea! You’re so brave.” She threw her arms around me and although surprised by her over-familiarity, I couldn’t help but hug her back. She was such a sweet girl. I really hoped this industry didn’t change her.

“Thank you.” I pulled back and nodded to Killian’s door, feeling the color drain out of my cheeks. “Is he in?”

“Let me tell him you’re here.” She knocked on his door and at his “come in,” she opened it and poked her head in. “Mr. O’Dea, Skylar is here.”

“Thanks, Eve.” I heard him cross the room and then he pulled the door wide open. Our eyes met for a second and my courage fled. “Why don’t you,” he pulled out his wallet and removed some cash to hand to Eve, “head over to Starbucks and order a team’s worth of coffee and pastries for the shoot. Get someone to help you. Take a car.”

“Sure thing.” She threw me a smile as she grabbed her purse and strode off down the corridor.

It took effort, but I returned my gaze to Killian.

He stared at me with such love and affection, I wanted to burst into tears. “Come in,” he stepped back to let me pass.

I did and he’d barely shut the door behind us before he hauled me backwards into his arms. I wanted to melt into his kiss, let him devour me and fill me with bliss. The thought of never having this again made me shudder with grief.