Page 85 of Before Now

I force myself to ignore the ill feeling creeping through me. She’s wrong. She’s lying. She’s an addict grasping at sand. “Forgive me if I don’t believe the actual junkie he left when he got sober. Maybe if you covered your track marks, you’d be more convincing.”

Her lip curls as she yanks down the sleeve pushed up on one side. “Stay away from him, or Daniel will deal with it, you ungrateful whore.” She pauses before crossing the only remaining line I have with her. “Dimitri was smart, dying to get away from you.”

“Leave,” I demand, moments from unleashing on her. “Stay the fuck away, and don’t you ever say his name again.”

She snorts and turns. “Hate to break it to you,darlin’, but he was a piece of shit, too. Always begged not to take you. He hated y?—”

I drive forward and thrust her into the hallway. She knocks into the banister, grabbing it for balance as I back into my room. I look her over, the same pathetic woman who’s repeatedly destroyed pieces of me along with herself. At least I have a few left. I’ll be damned if she ruins them too.

Gripping the door, I huff a breath. “You better hope Daniel’s there and feeling generous the next time you OD. Because I sure as fuck won’t be.” I slam it, lock it, and cover the bottom with pillows.

But it’s not enough. Not with my insides shredding. Her words are poison I thought I’d built an immunity to. Right now, they’re too much. Everything’s too fucking much. Tears streak down my cheeks, blood pounding in my ears so rapidly I’m shocked I haven’t passed out.

My dad loved me. He wanted me. Roman’s safe. He cares.

I scan around my room, the only place I’ve considered mine in so long. I have no clue how long she was in here. What she might have taken. My heart lurches, and I spin for my closet. Dresses thrown, boxes gone through.

“Please, please, please.”

I drop to my knees and dig through the mess. A surge of relief fills me when I uncover my contingency bag in the corner. Right there but completely missed. I still yank on the zipper and then check the side pocket. A sob breaks out of me when I pull out the red velvet pouch. Feel the SD card. I also find the pink envelope I stowed away at the bottom, needing to keep it secure, too.

Then I scramble to my feet, gripping the strap while I tuck the pouch away. I grab my school bag off the floor before pulling out my phone.

Months ago, I asked Roman why he stays. Why he continues to be treated like shit when he deserves so much more. He answered by asking me the same thing. I blinked as tears pooled and had to look away from him to stop them from falling like they are now.

My go-to is I’m terrified of the unknown. Of finding myself in a worse situation than the one I’m surviving now. Or I could end up in one I don’t.

It’s not a lie but not the all-encompassing truth. Even though she’s broken me in ways I likely won’t ever completely heal from. Even if every emotional scar, she’s had some hand in. Deep down, my mom’s always been part of why I’ve stayed. Guilt or responsibility or love for the woman I wish she could be.

I never told Roman any reasons, but I didn’t need to. He knew. And there’s a card in an envelope in my bag where he told me his.

When I open my messages, I pause at the window. The overwhelm hits, the doubts and fears and what-ifs, but I findRand text him anyway. I’m not sure my reasons are enough anymore—if they can keep me here another second. If that’s the case, then at least one of Roman’s won’t matter either.

24

FOSTER

Now…

No one has spokena word since Christian burst in, cut off the music, and demanded Felix sit.

He wasn’t even wearing his manager brows or using the tone as he cursed his way through a recap of the call from the label. He looked rocked, telling us about the concerns for Remi’s safety. Worries about the conditions she’s working under with us. The insinuations we’ve been harassing her. Ones that are worse. A mention of what might happen to her alone with us on the bus. And the straight-out reprehensible question of whether Mac Records needs to “clean up any messes.”

All of it burns on the way down—but the last one’s a blue flame right to the fucking chest.

Christian eventually stops his pacing at the front of our private, soundproofed room. He leans back against the karaoke machine, under the shiny fucking disco ball reflecting shimmering color over us.

“I told you to take them somewhere,” he spat at Colton on his way in, “and you picked the stupidest place.”

Honestly, it was a great time until he started hurling the verbal equivalent of knives at all of us.

I stare at the egregious lime green pattern on the blue carpet while Dev shifts on the couch beside me like he might say something. But Colt beats him, finally breaking the screaming silence inside the walls.

“Hold the hell up.” He stays against the wall, his arms crossed. “They’re claiming she might be sexually ass?—”

“Uh-uh,” Christian chides without hiding his annoyance. “We’re not to use possibly ‘harmful words,’ only dance around them like they did. God forbid anyone call forth the boogeyman.”

The bite in Colt’s tone is sharp when he continues, “Fine. They claim Remi might beunsafeon the bus as the only woman, worried the four of us can’t keep oursunshine sticksaway from her, so they sent the fucking wannabe to protect her? The dude was practically humping her leg when we picked her up in New York, trying to big dog us.”

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