I checked my phone. I’d been in here for ten minutes. I needed to finish up and go face the music. After washing my hands, I reached for the door but paused. I took a deep breath.

One more night. There’s nothing different about tonight. One more show for the Oscars, just like I’ve been performing since I became Joslyn Keen.

My hand opened the door.

And here I go.

I stopped short.

Erica, Wanker, Jake, along with ten others squished behind them were all standing in the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder, but their stares were focused on me. They were waiting for me. An uneasy sensation began in me. All of them had different expressions. Erica’s eyes were wide, accusing, angry…and then I looked closer to see…hurt.

Oh, no.

When my eyes met Wanker’s, he looked away. His hand rested on Erica’s shoulder. He was there for her, not me. Jake’s eyes were shrouded in the same anger as Erica’s, but he looked more hurt than she did. And—I frowned—a little bit excited? That didn’t make sense.

“What’s going on?” I asked. But I knew.

Even before I came up to the bathroom, a sixth sense was nagging at me. It was in the back of my mind, almost laughing at me. My time was up. I felt it but shoved it back.

Maybe it was because of the cab driver. Maybe it was because of the hotel manager. Maybe it was because I’d just wanted it to happen.

I knew what I would see even before Erica held up her phone in response to my question.

There I was, smack dab in the middle. It wasn’t my old face. It was my college yearbook picture from this past year. And above the photo were the words, Jordan Emory Has Been Found.

My old name.

My new face.

And my loved ones looking at me with the accusations.

I was no longer Jo.

I had to think.

I was at a party. There were too many people, and I was trapped on the second floor. I needed to get to safety. The media circus had been notified. I had a few minutes, by my estimation.

“Is it true?” Erica sounded wounded, her eyebrows furrowed together. “Is it?”

“I…” A lump formed in the back of my throat. I couldn’t talk. I could only stare at her.

Betrayal stared back at me.

My God. My worst nightmare was coming true. I was living it right now.

The longer I stood there, gaping back at them, the guiltier I looked. I knew I needed to say something—apologize, come clean, say it was a mistake. I had to say something, but nothing left my mouth. I tried to remember the speech I prepared so long ago for when this happened, if it would happen.

My memory failed me.

“I’m so sorry, Erica.”

Hurt flooded her gaze before she looked away.

Shame and guilt overwhelmed me.

She was gone. I saw it in that instant, felt it in my gut. No matter what, that friendship was done. I’d lied for one year as her roommate and another year as her friend.

I looked at Wanker beside her. I’d expected the same look of betrayal as I started for them, for her, but I stopped. There was nothing in his gaze—at least for me. He was concerned as he looked from me to Erica.

It hit me then. He had known, but I didn’t have time to process that.

I reached out for Erica, and then a door opened behind me. A hand wrapped around my arm, and I was yanked into a room.

“Jo!” someone shouted from the hallway.

I screamed. A hand clamped over my mouth as the door was locked.

I tried to claw at the hand until a voice said into my ear, “It’s me. Stop.”

“Kian.” I pulled back.

It was him. He was dressed in the same clothes—a black sweatshirt with a hood over his head. Underneath the hood, a baseball cap was pulled down over his eyes. A shiver wrapped its way up my spine, awakening me.

I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“They know.”

“Let us in!” a voice hollered from the hallway. Someone was pounding on the door. “Let her go!”

That wasn’t Erica.

I held my breath, waiting for her voice, but it didn’t come.

Jake was yelling. There were others.

I tuned them out and asked Kian, “What’s the plan?” I’d wallow later. We needed to escape first.

Kian grabbed my arm and went to the window. Throwing it open, he let go of me as he took the screen off. Pointing to a tree, he said, “I’ll climb down. You wait and then jump. I’ll catch you.”

“Uh…” I was skinny, but I wasn’t a lightweight.

“It’ll be fine.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Wait for my signal.”

A news van rushed down the street. As Kian made his way to the tree, jumping over and catching a branch, the van pulled onto the lawn. The media was going to catch us. Kian wrapped his legs around the trunk and then slid down in seconds. He was beneath the window, raising his arms. Before he said anything, I pointed to the front of the house. Seeing the media, he waited.

A reporter and a camera guy rushed inside.

Kian called out, “Jump. I’ll get you.”

I took a deep breath and climbed onto the window frame. My eyes clung to his. “Are you sure?”

His arms went higher. His voice was strong. “Trust me.”

After a second breath, I pushed off and jumped.

Kian caught me. A flutter filled my stomach. It rose to my throat, spreading to my fingers and toes, as I slid down his body. His hand took mine, and we started to head to the back.