Page 57 of Riot

“It looks good on you,” I tell her as she gapes, and I place the coffee on the side. “I didn’t know how you liked it, so I got it black.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replies, sounding confused as she looks at me. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” I blush and head into the booth to avoid this awkward conversation, but as I sit and put on my headphones, I notice she’s smiling down at the coffee so brightly, I feel like an asshole. Was I really such a cold bitch that even getting her a coffee shocks her?

Yes.

What changed? I don’t know, but I like seeing her smile, and when she cues the music, I find myself smiling too.

I listen to the song first. It’s one we have been working on, but I was struggling with the lyrics. In all honesty, I have been for months. Nothing felt right. It just felt like they were missing something. The second play through, I close my eyes and feel the music. I let everything inside me pour out, everything I’ve felt and experienced, especially recently. I barely know what I am singing, and when it’s over, I’m panting and Merry is blinking. Heading out of the booth, I wait anxiously.

“Was it bad?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer, but she hits some buttons and plays it back, and the chorus jumps out at me.

They call me ice queen and him the playboy king.

If only they knew how I make that king fall.

Beg.

How I obliterate everything else until all he sees is me.

All he wants is me.

I meet her knowing gaze as she hits stop. “It’s one of the best you have written.”

“Merry—”

“Don’t.” She holds up her hand, grinning at me. “You don’t have to tell me, you know that. You can just be you here. I won’t ask you anything, but I hope you’re happy, Fallon. I really do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this . . . alive. It felt like you were going through the motions for years. I watched it happen, and it made me sad, but there’s something different about you right now. You look like you’re really here, really living, and I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” I reply softly, and she waves her hand.

“Go back into the booth. Let’s make the best album ever.”

We spend hours working together, and I let Merry help, trusting her more than I ever have. I let out every raw feeling, and I know she’s listening, but honestly, it’s kind of like therapy, only better.

Afterwards, I eat the sandwiches she bought, curled up on the sofa as she edits some tracks, the TV on in the background. That’s when I see it. Grabbing the remote, I turn up the volume.

Yuri and his wife are standing before reporters. “We have chosen to pull from the docuseries for personal reasons.”

“Why?” someone yells.

“Is this because of what Fallon said in the interview?” another calls.

The reporters are looking for the scoop. He looks pale and scared, and he clutches his wife close. Terrie is silent for once, and I gawk. There is no way they would pull from the docuseries, she made that clear, and the threat he left on TV for me drove that home, so then why are they suddenly pulling out?

It doesn’t make sense. I watch the entire interview before muting the TV.

There is only one reason he would withdraw. Someone made him, and I know exactly who—the person who came home with blood on his hands.

At least they aren’t dead.

Opening my phone for the first time since I arrived at the studio, I see the multiple texts and grin.

Kage: Leaving me in bed, sweetheart? Cold. I’ll just lie here, thinking about you.

Kage: I miss you.

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