P.S. I’m Still Yours: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Silver Springs)
P.S. I’m Still Yours: Chapter 7

“Are you going to be okay?” Mom’s voice cuts through the emotional turmoil her news unleashed on me.

I sure as hell am not going to be okay.

But I can’t tell her that.

I’m too busy trying to process what she just said.

“He…” I clear my throat. “I thought he was supposed to be on tour.”

Last I heard, his US tour is kicking off in June. I know because it’s all Maggie could talk about these past few months. She spent seven hours queueing up to snatch tickets to his Charlotte concert next fall, but it was sold out within minutes.

She nods. “He was, but the tour’s been canceled.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’m not sure. Evie mentioned he got dropped by his record label. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

Kane got dropped from his label?

That’s how you know shit is getting serious.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’ll be at the beach house.”

“All I know is, his mom wants him out of the spotlight for a while. She thinks reconnecting with his roots might help him get his act together.”

I can’t imagine how disappointed his fans must’ve been when they heard the news. It isn’t long before I surrender to my curiosity and pull out my phone. I enter the key words “Kane Wilder tour” into the search bar.

The first thing that comes up is an article with an attention-grabbing headline.

Kane Wilder cancels tour and announces hiatus after assault on Joshua Caldwell.

I tap the link, my eyes skimming over the article.

Kane Wilder’s new management put out a statement early this morning, informing the singer’s fans of his US tour’s cancellation. Fans all over the United States are heartbroken at the thought of missing their idol’s concert and begging for any scraps of information as to when they can expect Instagram’s Most Followed Male Artist to return to the stage.

My gaze drops lower to the excerpts of the statement that was shared on his social media.

Kane deeply regrets what happened and wishes to present his sincerest apologies to Joshua Caldwell and his loved ones. He and his family have deemed it for the best that he take some personal time to reflect on his actions.

Kane is willing to do whatever is needed to improve and make up for his mistakes, which is why he will be going on hiatus while he faces the consequences of his actions and works on taking back his life and sobriety. All tickets to upcoming US shows will be refunded within seven days. We ask that you respect the privacy of all parties involved during this trying time.

I click the link at the bottom of the article, and it takes me to Kane’s Instagram account—more precisely, to the statement his team posted.

I scroll to the comments section. There are already fifty-seven thousand comments despite the fact that the statement was posted less than six hours ago.

@sckmydick290: Y’all are making a big deal out of nothing. It’s not like he died. So what if he’s in a wheelchair. At least he’s loaded. He can afford help unlike many of us.

Then I spot a comment with over thirty-three thousand likes.

@sierrastrauma: Apology not accepted. Joshua better sue #canceled

Looks like the majority agrees.

The rest of the comments section mostly consists of hateful slander, gossip, and love declarations from his fans.

@wildersbitch: Is it wrong that I’m even more attracted to him now? GO OFF, DADDY.

@raynas_sk: You guys, he found Tate making out with his drummer right before it happened. No wonder he was angry.

@ixdontxcare: Are you shitting me? I waited in a queue for ten hours to get those tickets!

“Look, I know you and Kane didn’t part on the best terms, but I think this could be a great opportunity to fix your relationship.” Mom requests my attention, and I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Come on, honey. What do you say?”

Part of me wants to tell her to drop me off on some random street corner so that I can Uber home.

Except… I don’t have a home anymore.

The only home I’ve ever known is in Silver Springs.

And it belongs to someone else now.

I’m not saying I blame Mom for selling the house and the store after I graduated. She did what she had to do to protect her sanity.

The question is: what do I have to do to protect mine?

I guess I could rent out a room somewhere, but then there’s no way I’d be able to pile up enough money to cover next semester’s expenses.

And even if I did get a full-time job, rent and utility bills would take up most of my paychecks, and I’d just end up right back where I started.

“It’s okay,” I lie.

Her features twitch with worry. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not comfortable with this, we can figure something out. I think there’s a place I could rent near my condo. It’s a bit pricey, but we can—”

I muster a fake smile. “It’s fine, Mom, really. It’ll be great to see Evie again.”

She smiles back, but she doesn’t seem convinced in the slightest. Unspoken words descend over us, memories of the day Kane left sucking the air out of the vehicle.

Mom knows how much it hurt me.

How much he hurt me.

It would’ve been impossible for her not to notice how depressed I was after he skipped town. She’d ask me about it, and I’d slap on a smile, promising that everything was fine.

She never pushed me for answers, but I think she’s always known.

She knows I loved him once.

And she knows I hate him now.

What kind of daughter would I be if I told her to turn down Evie’s offer? Especially knowing how much money she’s going to save that way?

Her entire life has revolved around me since we lost Gray. It’s like after he died, I became the only thing she stayed alive for. The only thing keeping her going.

I didn’t mind it. Back then, I needed her just as much as she needed me, but the difference is… after years of grieving, I managed to go back to the person I used to be.

She didn’t.

She’s been overcompensating for years now. She moved miles away from her hometown and friends, just so that she could get a place near my school.

You’d think she’d want to enjoy her freedom now that she doesn’t have a store to run and two kids to take care of, but it’s like all she does is wait for me to come back for winter and summer breaks.

We reach Golden Cove two and a half hours later. There’s something surreal about being here and driving around the gated community where I spent so much of my childhood.

It forces me to remember the girl I was. Little Hadley, crushing on a boy she’d known since she was born, completely clueless as to how easily he would abandon her.

If you’d told me I’d come back to this place a month ago, I would’ve thought you were on something.

A strong something.

The more miles we cover, the harder it is to suppress the flashbacks rolling in.

We pass the park where Gray, Kane, Jamie, Vince, Cal, and I used to play. Our moms would have to come drag us home for dinner, and we’d still replace ourselves right back here as soon as we were done.

The private portion of the beach vastly differs from the rest of the coast. Mainly because it’s clean and not littered with trash, unlike the shore in Hillford, the nearest town.

I wonder if Jamie and her brother still live in Hillford. We completely lost touch after Mom, Gray, and I stopped coming to the beach house.

“Here we are,” Mom announces as she pulls up into the driveway.

I blink a few times, disappointment crashing into me. The beach house looks so different I almost ask my mom if we’re in the right place.

They painted the windows and front doors black, for one. I’m guessing the previous owners wanted to give the house a modern feel, and it might’ve worked if it weren’t for the gray bricks they added to the façade.

They went overboard with the dark shades, making it feel uninviting. Not to mention it sticks out like a store thumb, being the only dark house in a neighborhood full of coastal-colored mansions.

Mom seems to share my train of thoughts because she says, “Don’t worry. Evie’s renovating the whole thing at the end of the summer.”

I only realize my fists are wrapped into tight balls, my nails digging into my palms, when she kills the engine.

Why am I so nervous?

I glance around the driveway and spot another car parked by the garage. It’s a white Tesla, with lilac tire rims and a bumper sticker that says, Please let me merge before I start crying.

It draws a smile out of me.

If that isn’t the most Evie thing I’ve ever seen.

“Good. Evie’s already here,” Mom says before climbing out of the car.

I unbuckle my seat belt and swing the door open. The warm summer breeze sweeps over my face as soon as I get out of the car, and I exhale a sharp breath.

Mom and I are standing on the porch with our luggage in no time. Nausea knots my stomach when she rings the doorbell.

Footsteps can be heard on the inside, and I stiffen up, dreading the person I’m going to see when the door opens.

“You made it.” My nerves settle the second I hear Evie’s voice.

The joy surging in my chest quickly trumps my anxiety. I haven’t seen my godmother since Gray’s funeral my junior year of high school.

Her dirty blonde hair is darker. Longer, too. She’s wearing light makeup and a comfortable-looking blouse with trouser pants.

This.

This is the real Evie.

She probably doesn’t feel the need to dress up for her husband’s approval anymore. The man loved his suits, and he requested nothing less than fancy dresses and heels from Evie.

She looks radiant.

Free.

Her skin is sun-kissed and laugh lines are starting to form around her eyes.

I wish I’d gotten to know that version of her sooner. Not that I’m blaming her for being absent from my life after her son took the music industry by storm.

I get that she had a lot to juggle between traveling with Kane full time and attending a bunch of court hearings to contest her late husband’s will.

To think she ended up dropping the whole thing after Kane got famous. She and Kane didn’t need that man’s money anymore.

All in all, I think Evie did the best she could, considering the circumstances. She sent me and Gray presents and called us every year for our birthday.

She’d also FaceTime us on Christmas and send us cards filled with love and promises to come visit soon.

But then Gray was murdered.

And while it should’ve brought us closer, it had the opposite effect.

I think Evie felt guilty about not being in his life much after Kane became a singer, and deep down, I think Mom resented her for it, too—although you’d have to torture it out of her.

Funny enough, looking at the smile on my mom’s face now? You would never suspect a thing.

“Come in, come in.” Evie steps aside. My mom’s barely stepped foot inside the house before Evie traps her in a hug. “I’m so happy you took me up on my offer, Lil. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting us,” Mom replies, returning Evie’s embrace.

I should be focused on the adorable reunion happening before me, but all I can do is glance around the foyer.

Everything is different.

The color of the walls, the chandelier, even the floors. They installed purple wallpaper and replaced the gorgeous wood flooring with carpet.

Oh, and a lot of the home decor and furniture are purple, too—the sofa in the corner, the vase on the nightstand, the wall art.

So. Freaking. Purple.

If Evie were to tell me they’d torn the house down and built another one from scratch, I’d probably believe her.

“Oh, Hadley.” Evie’s eyes become misty when she turns to look at me. “You look so beautiful, honey. Come here.”

My godmother’s arms are around me before I know it.

“God, I’ve missed so much,” Evie whispers mid-hug, and my heart constricts in my chest.

Yes, you have.

I keep my thoughts to myself, withdrawing from the hug before she does.

Okay.

Maybe I’m a little mad that she wasn’t around.

I mean, it’s bad enough that Kane completely ghosted us the day he boarded that plane, but Evie disappeared from our lives, too. Sure, she called us every once in a while, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person.

I would’ve been satisfied with just one yearly visit, but she was always too busy. I even wondered if she’d replace the time to attend Gray’s funeral at one point.

Evie gestures to the first floor. “Would you like a tour of the world’s ugliest beach house?”

Mom and I chuckle.

Evie taps the purple wall. “Let me reassure you, this atrocity of a wallpaper will be gone by the end of the summer.”

She starts by showing us around the common areas, and I’m relieved to replace the kitchen and dining room untouched. It’s a wonder the last owners didn’t put up purple kitchen cabinets to match the foyer.

The living room is mostly the same, too, except for the carpet. As for the downstairs bathroom, it’s covered in zebra-print wallpaper with, you guessed it, purple titles on the shower wall.

Evie suggests that we go drop our luggage in our rooms before dinner, and I’m relieved to see that mine is exactly the same as I left it.

It’s obvious the owners didn’t get around to renovating this room because they kept the old furniture—the one that came with the house after Mr. Wilder’s accident.

If anything, the room seems like it hasn’t been used in years. Crazy to think I might’ve been the last person to sleep in here.

I jog down the stairs a few minutes later and amble down the hall toward the kitchen. I scan my surroundings as though I’m afraid of running into Kane at any moment.

Chill, he’s not even here.

You would’ve seen him if he were.

Call it wishful thinking, but I’m hoping there was a last-minute change of plans and Mr. Superstar will not be joining us after all.

I’m about to walk into the kitchen when I hear Evie say, “He was supposed to get here tonight, but he had things to take care of in LA. He’s flying in tomorrow morning.”

Never mind, I guess.

“His drummer is coming with. Bless his soul. He’s going to help me keep an eye on Kane these next few months.”

His drummer?

Wait, I’m pretty sure they were celebrating his birthday the night Kane went apeshit on his manager.

His name is Oscar.

I hear a phone chime, and a few seconds later, Evie adds, “Good. Drea’s coming, too. I don’t trust this Tori girl to keep him in line for a second.”

“Who are they?” my mom asks.

“Drea’s his publicist. She’s been with him since he started. She’s like family to us.”

He’s bringing his publicist?

I’d be willing to bet the main reason she’s tagging along is to do some damage control. She’s here to salvage what’s left of his career.

“And the other girl?”

“Tori’s supposed to be his new sober sponsor. His shrink thought she might help get his drinking under control.” A sigh spills from her lips. “I don’t know where his management is replaceing these people, but he’s already gone through four of them in the past two weeks. Four.”

She pauses as if to get a hold of her emotions before resuming. “His drinking’s getting worse, too. He’s going to need to get his act together before the trial.”

“What trial?” Mom asks.

She proceeds to tell my mom that Joshua and his family are suing Kane for the assault. Something that’s been kept out of the press so far, but I have no doubt it’ll be making headlines soon.

Mom picks up on Evie’s anguish. “Evie, look at me. It’s going to be okay. Kane’s a good kid. He’s just going through a rough patch.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but I don’t know what to do anymore. The fame… it’s changed him. Some days, I barely recognize my boy.” She sniffles, a mixture of worry and pain bleeding through her voice. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Yes, but that’s precisely why you asked him here. To help him.”

“I asked him here because I didn’t know what to do. He refuses to go to rehab. I figured the beach house was the closest thing he had to a connection to his past. Seeing you… seeing Hadley… I’m hoping it’ll help him remember who he is.”

“It will,” Mom says.

My stomach screams at me, and I have no choice but to put an end to my eavesdropping before I get hangry.

Evie’s features light up from the second I turn the corner. “There she is.” She wipes her eyes quickly and clears her throat. “Now, what are we feeling for dinner?”

“Anything. As long as it’s wine,” Mom jokes, but I know she’s only half kidding. Mom hasn’t had an actual vacation in years.

I thought she’d slow down after she sold the store, but she went right from running it to becoming an event planner, on top of working as a virtual assistant on the side.

Evie laughs, opening the wine cooler built into the kitchen island. She grabs the only bottle in there. “Might as well enjoy it. It’s the last one you’re going replace in this house for a while.”

I catch on quickly.

She’s Kane-proofed the house, hasn’t she? Alcohol is definitely going to be scarce around here.

“About dinner,” Evie says as soon as she’s poured us both a drink. “Are we feeling takeout, or should I make something?”

I plop down onto a swiveling stool. “You still cook? I kind of figured you’d have a personal chef on speed dial now.”

“Oh, I do, but Kane insisted on getting his own chef here from LA. Sue’s supposed to arrive Monday.”

I was kidding, but okay.

I’m not sure why this surprises me. This is technically nothing new. Evie and Kane had a private chef back when Mr. Wilder was still alive, too, but then he died, and they reverted back into normal people.

For a little while, at least.

Jesus. We really live in completely different worlds now.

Mom and Evie spend the next fifteen minutes trying to agree on a meal, only to end up ordering seafood pizza from Sandy’s, our favorite restaurant in Hillford.

Once she’s put in the order, Evie brings up the country club that just opened in Golden Cove. Word is it’ll be one of the nicest clubs in the state. But here’s the real kicker: Evie’s already secured memberships for both herself and my mom.

Of course, Mom’s first reflex is to turn down her offer and say she can’t accept such a generous gift. Only, Evie is not taking no for an answer, and Mom ends up caving two glasses of wine later.

“Did they say how long the food was going to be?” I ask when the hunger pangs get unbearable.

Evie pours herself another drink. “She said it’d be at least an hour. They’re swamped.”

An hour?

I might eat the purple wallpaper before then.

I push to my feet, fighting a yawn. I spent all of yesterday and today packing up the last of my dorm. “Is it okay if I go take a nap while we wait? I’m exhausted.”

Evie gives a nod. “Of course. We’ll call you when the food’s here.”

I dash up the stairs toward my room, trying—and failing—to wrap my head around how quickly I went from never wanting to see Kane again to having absolutely no choice in the matter.

Just this morning, I thought I was going to spend the summer in my mom’s new condo, swiping on dating apps and focusing on my art whenever I’m not at work, and now?

I’m back in Golden Cove.

Forced to share a house with a Grammy-winning, controversial superstar. The words Mom said earlier pop into my head as I swing my door open.

I think this could be a great opportunity to fix your relationship.

What she doesn’t understand is that there’s no relationship left to fix.

Kane Wilder is nothing but a book I didn’t finish. A story collecting dust on my bookshelf. He’s a chapter I’ve long since erased from my memory.

And if he’s stupid enough to hold his breath for a second chance…?

You best believe I’m going to let that boy suffocate.

Three consecutive knocks jolt me awake.

What the…

My senses spill back in one by one.

I groan and flip onto my back. “Maggie, could you get the door?”

The loud thumping doesn’t stop.

And Maggie doesn’t answer.

“Maggie?” I call again.

That’s when I remember.

Maggie’s not answering me because I’m not at the dorms anymore. I’m in Golden Cove for the summer. I sit up straight, rub my eyes, and glance around my bedroom.

How long have I been asleep?

I listen for another knock. It comes straightaway.

I drag myself out of bed with a yawn. Must be my mom coming to tell me the food is here. I can’t explain the anxiety stirring in my chest as I rest my hand on the knob.

My breathing stalls when I open the door…

…and come face-to-face with a blast from the past.