Page 99 of For One Night Only

I groan. “Which part?”

She quirks a brow. “Wherever you want to start.”

Wherever I want to start, as if it would be that easy to pick a point. My mind whirls with anxiety and a light buzz of alcohol and the weight of everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours. The past seven weeks. The past six years. Shit, maybe more like the past ten, since we were starry-eyed teens who made that cursed deal with the demon that is Label Records.

“No,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cameron crosses her arms, ever the disbelieving older sister. “Fuck that. You obviously need to vent.”

She knows me too well, and I sigh. “It’s just too much. I needto, I don’t know, process it before I can make sense of anything. I don’t want to relive all of that drama more than once.”

Cameron scoffs. “You want drama? I had a bored teenager re-break her leg post-surgery today because she tried to take a shower without asking for a nurse, and the parents yelled atmebecause she’s an equestrian who’s ‘missing competition season.’ Your drama is nothing.”

My stomach twists, because Cameron is absolutely right. Her work drama may be less public than mine, but she’s dealing with illnesses and injuries and people on the worst days of their lives.

Leah puts a hand on Cameron’s arm. “His emotions are still valid.”

Cameron sighs. “I know. I just want him to talk about it, and I thought guilt was a good motivator.”

“I hate you,” I say, but there’s no malice in it. I know what she’s doing. “I mean, you saw the concert. You know what happened.”

“We saw the livestream,” Cameron says. “And I’m sorry. We wanted to come out there, but I was on call last minute.”

“Well, you didn’t miss anything,” I say dryly.

Leah sighs. “Remember, we only saw what they presented to the public. The livestream cut off right after you left the stage, so it must have been a little delayed—like they were trying to control the damage. Why don’t you tell us your side of the story?” she prompts gently.

I take a long swig of my beer. It’s a little bitter, but so am I. “Valerie and I…” I don’t even know how to describe it. “We got involved again.”

“Oh, shocker,” Cameron says. “Dude, you know it’s been all over the media, right?”

I groan. “Yeah, but most of that was more like fake dating for the cameras. It was all about playing it up, trying to help her get some positive press, that kind of thing.”

“Well all of those kisses looked real,” Cameron says.

I lean my head against the couch, sighing. “They were.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Leah says. “You pretended to date…but you were actually dating?”

Is it “dating” if you’ve been pining for your ex-situationship from afar for six years, then started hooking up again, admitted there are feelings, but neglected to ever put a label on it? “Kind of?”

“So you were sleeping with her, at least,” Cameron says.

I choke on my beer, feeling the heat flood to my cheeks. “Jesus Christ, I’m not going to talk about my sex life with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister!”

She shrugs, glancing at Leah. “We have sex, lots of it. Does that help?”

“No!” I say, shuddering. I don’t want to think about that either.

Leah smirks, but she doesn’t help me out, just takes a smug bite of her pizza.

Finally, I recover. “I mean, how is that relevant to the story?”

“Sex always makes things more complicated,” Leah says sagely.

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