Page 40 of From Us, Forever

“How can a woman destroy the life of another?”

Tears were freely flowing out of my eyes now. It was like I couldn’t breathe. Why the hell were they asking me all these questions? How the hell did they find me? And why the hell were they running behind me like this?

My vision was blurry as I pushed past everyone, and I couldn’t see fucking shit. But I could hear the flurry of flashes snapping behind me.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grasped mine, pulling me away. “Ms. May, this way,” said a familiar voice before forming a solid barrier around me, keepingthemaway from me. It only lasted a second before I was shoved inside a big black car. The cool air hit my face as the soft leather molded my back, and the outside commotion was shut out when the door slammed shut.

My wide eyes took in all the cameras that were trying to get a glimpse through the tinted windows. Even though I couldn’t hear them anymore, their voices kept playing in my head like a broken record.

I could still hear it all loud and clear.

“Ms. May, are you alright?”

My eyes flew from the window as the car leaped forward. Only then did I notice Tyler’s alarmed eyes peering at me through the rearview mirror.

I nodded, licking my dry lips. “I’m fine, Tyler. Thank you,” I said in a shaky voice.

Shivers wrecked my body the whole way to the apartment. My mind was still reeling through it all. I’ve never experienced anything like that before, and I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I could still feel it all even though they were far away from me now.

Like insects crawling over my skin.

I could feel it all.

CHAPTER 9

JAY

“Man, that was a good one, but we could do better. The hook was a bit flat toward the end,” Pete said through the microphone on the other end of the glass window. Pete was a brilliant producer and sound engineer who had worked with some of my favorite artists. We’d been friends with him for a few years now, and we called him right away to help us with the record.

I nodded; he was right. It didn’t come out like I had hoped.

Making a record wasn’t easy, but that was the fun of it.

It was all about figuring out the ways that we could make shit work, tweaking and tuning till we got it right. And I fucking loved the process. Now that the creative control depended on us, it was an exhilarating rush.

“Fine, can we take a break now?” Mikey groaned, placing his bass guitar on the stand as he exited the studio. “Can’t believe that Lan fucker got to escape this.”

We still didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on with Lan, but at least he’d texted us, saying he needed some time off but would be back soon.

“You always want a break,” Matty commented, following Mikey.

I set my headphones aside and stepped out of the recording room.

Matty and Mikey were still bickering when I sank down on the huge cloud couch and chugged an entire bottle of water. Pete and I exchanged glances as we both rolled our eyes at those two.

My eyes trailed over the massive equipment lined up, taking up the entire wall facing the glass window to the studio. It was a music producer’s dream.

When we planned to move here, we decided we wanted a studio close to us, so we bought the top two floors of Blueline. This initially was a five-bed apartment that we renovated for ourselves, with a state-of-the-art recording studio with every possible equipment and instrument. It was all dark wood and modern decor. The place also had our own office spaces and a comfortable lounge for us to hang out.

“Pete’s right. The lyrics are incredible, but the composing still needs some work,” Matty said after smacking Mikey in the head for his crude comment about the female anatomy. “I’ll start working on it and see if I can come up with anything different.”

We all nodded. Matty was incredible when it came to production and composing, while Lan and I were good with the lyrics.

“I already have an idea,” Mikey mumbled, rushing off to grab his bass guitar. A serious expression morphed on his face when he came out of the studio and played a different bass riff for the hook that sounded much better than what we weredoing before. Mikey doesn’t like to show it off, but he was the most gifted musician out of the four of us—some would call him a prodigy.

“Good one,” Matty said, rolling his drumsticks in his hands. “That was amazing, Mikey.”

Mikey grinned. “Made you call me amazing.”

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