After that, everything happened so fast.

People were yelling my name as I was ushered into a police car. I scooted in next to Erica, Wanker plopped next to me, and the door was slammed shut. The second officer hurried to his squad car, and then we were moving. The crowd was forced to move aside for us, but there really was no going back.

I had to do the interview.

After a three-hour meeting with the lawyers and Laura, everyone was on board. My body was tired, but I wanted to find Jordan again. I knew she was safe with Erica—or at least hidden—but I still wanted to hold her. I was leaving the bedroom, after washing up and changing clothes, and I was about to call her when Laura stopped me in the hallway.

“You knew about this?” Her tone was sharp.

I frowned. “About what?”

My phone lit up. For a split second, I thought it was Jordan, but it wasn’t. It was Cal. He never called unless he had to.

I held a finger up to Laura as I answered the call, “Cal?”

Laura took the phone from me.

“Laura—”

She listened for one second and then marched to the living room. She grabbed the remote and hit the Volume Up button. As she did, I stopped. Jordan was there on the screen. In some dark, private room, she was sitting all alone with one lamp shining behind her.

Laura said to me, still gripping my phone in her hand, “It’s one camera on her. One person is asking her questions. Your girl, who you just went to bat for, is selling you out.” She stabbed the remote in the air toward the television. “She’s doing a live interview, Kian.”

My jaw hardened, and I grabbed my phone from her. “You don’t know that she’s selling me out. All retrial charges have been dropped. I’m in the clear, and so is she.”

“It’s the public’s opinion. She’s going to turn them against you. What then? You’ll be screwed if she does.”

I wasn’t listening. Whatever Jordan was doing, it wasn’t that. Jordan had feelings for me. I felt them from her hours earlier. I felt them inside her. There was no way.

I grabbed my keys, and I headed out the door. No one stopped me. They didn’t dare. As I hurried down the hallway, I brought my phone back to my ear. Cal was still there.

I asked, “Where is she?”

“You can talk to me and look at me. It can be as if we’re having our own private conversation,” Erica said, sitting right next to the large camera.

It was easy for her to say, and I got it. I did. She wanted me to be the most genuine I could be. It was going to be live, and I had no doubt that other channels would pick it up immediately, but this wasn’t her life. It was mine, and these were my words.

There was one light above, shining on me. A blanket was thrown over the backdrop behind me, covering two paintings in our motel room. I felt the gazes coming from the rest of those in the room. The two officers remained outside. This wasn’t their job. They were assigned to keep me safe for the day, but even with their absence, the tiny room felt cramped. Wanker sat on the bed, to the side. The camera guy was behind the camera, taking directions from Erica, and the other reporter Erica trusted was standing behind her a few feet away, in the open doorway for the bathroom.

All eyes were on me.

I already felt hot.

Millions of eyes would be on me within minutes.

My pulse sped up, and I had to fan myself with a magazine.

Did I really want to do this?

I’d never spoken out before. I wanted to talk to Snark about it, but his phone was off. I didn’t know what happened to him, but he’d been the only other constant during all of this. Kian was the other.

Kian.

I had to call him—but no, I was getting confused. I shook my head, feeling a fog coming over me.

I had called him. I texted him and then called him again.

The reporter said we needed to go live now. The sooner, the better. “We have to get ahead of the story,” was how she put it. Erica agreed. So, here we were, about to go live.

I was going to pass out.

“Jo?”

I looked up, hearing Erica. She was the reporter now, not my roommate, but she gave me a soft smile. There. She was still my best friend. It was small, but it was enough.

I nodded, clearing my throat. “I’m ready.” My fingers dug into the underside of my chair.

She still gazed at me for a moment longer, studying me, and then nodded herself. She signaled to the camera guy. “Okay, let’s do this.” She twisted around to the other reporter. “Your station is a go?”

The lady clipped her head in a quick movement, up and down. “They’re good to go. You can start whenever, and they’ll jump in after a quick introduction from their end. It’ll be fine.” Her eyes darted to mine then, widening with the same excited rush that Susan had earlier.

I didn’t want her there, but Erica said it was necessary. They wouldn’t broadcast the interview if one of their reporters wasn’t present.

I just wanted to get it over with.

“Okay.” Erica gentled her voice. “Jo, you can start whenever you want. This is for you. It’s your time to address us. Tell us what you want us to hear.”

The light on the camera went from clear to red. He was taping me. This was now live.

And I couldn’t speak.

My throat wasn’t working.

Erica scooted forward. Her chair protested, groaning, and the other reporter held her breath.

Erica didn’t care. She said so calmly, “Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your name?”