He couldn’t do that to me. Not after everything that’s happened between us.
Chelsi averts her gaze, looking toward the kitchen for a few seconds before locking eyes with me. I immediately know something’s wrong.
“What’s going on?”
She exhales deeply, clutching her phone to her chest. “I don’t want you to freak out.”
I place my laptop on the coffee table and tuck my legs under me. “Why is it whenever someone tells me not to freak out, I most definitelyshouldstart freaking the fuck out?” My anxiety climbs as my heart races faster.
“It’s probably nothing. I was sure it was nothing…until other places started picking it up,” she says nervously, clutching her phone tighter as her other hand twirls a piece of her hair. “God, I hope I’m right.”
“Just tell me,” I beg, tears starting to form in my eyes. Although I don’t know exactly what’s going on, deep in my soul, I know it’s about Jake. It’s like my body is bracing itself for what’s to come.
She presses her lips together firmly, blowing out another deep breath. “Jake’s trending on social. There are pictures…”
Time stops.
My heart cracks because I know what the next words out of her mouth are going to be. There are pictures of him with another woman. Someone who is not me.
“Show me,” I demand, holding my hand out for her phone, knowing she has them pulled up and has likely analyzed them countless times before coming to talk to me.
“Before I do, I want you to remember he takes photos with fans all the time. That’s probably what’s going on,” she says, placing her hand gently on my arm as she tries to reassure me.
“I need to see,” I whisper, tears falling down my face.
Reluctantly, Chelsi hands me her phone. The first photo of him with a leggy blonde who could pass for a runaway model appears fairly innocent. It’s not until I continue swiping that I understand why Chelsi is concerned. These aren’t photos from a meet-and-greet—they’re backstage. I don’t have to be familiar with the amphitheaters he’s playing at this weekend to know these were taken in the area set up between the buses after the concert.
My heart sinks further when I get to the last one, and I realize it’s a video. “Do I want to watch it?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“I don’t know, Kate. It doesn’t look good,” she replies, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “It’s completely up to you.”
I nod silently, inhaling and exhaling deeply before I press play. The crack in my heart gets a tiny bit bigger every second I watch.
On the surface, it looks like a typical post-concert hangout. Band members and crew milling about with music playing. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, except for the blonde sitting on my boyfriend’s lap with his arm around her waist and a drink in his hand.
Someone who suspiciously looks like the type of woman all his fans want him to date. One who looksnothinglike me. It wouldn’t surprise me if this blonde is on one of the lists created after the movie premiere, when the internet deemed me unsuitable for him.
I drop the phone onto the couch, covering my face with my hands and begin to sob.
“I’m so sorry, Kate. It could be something completely innocent. You should try to talk to him,” Chelsi says, a mix ofhope and concern in her voice. “I don’t think he would cheat on you. He loves you too much to do something like that.”
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I drop my head and let all of it out. The pain from what I’ve seen. The anxiety of what it means. The hurt from not hearing from him. The worry that I’m not enough for him—the deepest of my insecurities—the one I thought I didn’t have to worry about anymore because of how much he loved me.
Chelsi sits next to me in complete silence as I cry until there are no more tears left.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
jake
“Fuck. My head is killing,”I groan when I’m woken by the incessant buzzing of my phone and someone pounding on my tour bus door. “Go away!”
The banging doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets louder, intensifying the throbbing in my head. Making it clear that whoever is outside isn’t going away until I open the fucking door.
After stumbling out of bed, I pull an old T-shirt over my head and slowly make my way to the door. Ready to lose my shit on whichever asshole thinks it’s necessary to wake me up at this ungodly hour.
“It’s about damn time,” Jason barks, brushing past me on the bus. “Are you alone?”
I slam the door shut. “Yes. Why the fuck would you ask a question like that?”
