Page 97 of Before You Fell

The world found out before I did.

The fucking internet had the information before I did.

That lands so hard I nearly stumble over.

“Move,” I say to no one and everyone, even though no one is in my fucking way.

We hit the hallway, leaving the cameras and voices spilling behind us.

Damon cuts in front of me near the exit, one hand raised as if he can stop me with a palm and a fucking death wish.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

I stop so suddenly that Jax almost runs into my back.

“Were you aware?” I ask.

Damon’s jaw tightens. “This is not the time or the place.”

My blood goes cold.

Cruz mutters, “Oh, you have got to be fucking shitting me.”

Jett steps closer. “Answer him.”

I take a step toward Damon, close enough to smell his aftershave and all the expensive bullshit he thinks makes him untouchable.

“Did you fucking know about this this morning?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. It’s there in the quick flick of his eyes and in the way his mouth hardens as he looks past me toward the press room.

The fucker knew. He was aware while I sat there, sunglasses on, poison still in my bloodstream, serving up pretty little quotes about pressure, touring, and owning the stage.

He knew and he let me keep talking.

Something in me snaps so hard that my fist hits him across the mouth, carrying everything ugly that comes up my throat and has nowhere else to go. The crack echoes through the hallway. Pain bursts across my knuckles.

Damon staggers sideways before his feet give out. He hits the floor hard—one hand catching too late, his polished manager bullshit finally where it belongs.

Fucking under me.

Jax grabs my shoulder, not to stop me, but to keep me from finishing it in a hallway where anyone could come out with a phone and turn my worst moment into tonight’s entertainment.

Damon touches his mouth before looking at the blood on his fingers. “You stupid fucking son of a bitch.”

Cruz steps in front of me. “Back the fuck off, Damon.”

Damon glares up at him.

Cruz’s voice drops. “You were aware of that shit and never told any of us that Willow was in trouble.”

Damon points at us from the floor. “She is no longer with this band. If you walk out right now, you’re fucking the whole tour. Do you understand that? You just walked out of a press conference. Are you aware of how fucking foolish that is?”

Jax steps forward, leaning over him. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. She will always be part of this band and she is in the hospital for something that could have fucking killed her.”

Damon pushes himself up, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ll get updates. You cannot cancel a press conference over a fucking songwriter.”

A songwriter.