“Fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Avoid the front, please. The press is probably sniffing around.”
“Yes, sir.” The confidence in his tone makes it easier to breathe. I trust this guy with my life. I can’t count the number of times he’s saved me from unwanted attention.
I put on a black hoodie and pull on a cap then take the elevator to the garage, where Wyatt is already waiting. The hum of the SUV vibrates through me, my pulse hammering. Once I slide into the back seat, he looks over his shoulder, his dark brown eyes assessing me.
“You were right. The crowd is already gathering.”
I rock in my seat slightly, my shoulders curling forward. “Fuck. We need to leave, fast.”
He nods and shifts into gear. “Where to?”
“To Riley’s.”
He eases out of the garage, turning away from the crowd. I risk a look out the dark-tinted window, though I stay low. Anger and anxiety sweep over me. Why did I think we had a shot at keeping this hidden? Gossip blogs and even a few newspapers published pictures of Owen’s hotel room just a few hours after his death. His parents found out because of the fucking media. No one cared about Owen, about his family, his bandmates. They wanted profit. They wanted clicks. They wanted fucking traction.
They’ve left me alone for the last couple of months. I’ve mostly been locked in my penthouse, living a life that’s far too boring for them.
But hiding out after my friend’s death, only to end up getting a girl pregnant? That’s a fucking sensation.
They don’t care about the truth or how their actions affect the people they post about. They want headlines. They’ll twist stories and sprinkle them with lies and assumptions. To them, we aren’t people. We’re headlines. A story to be sold. I’ve lived inside this circus for years—my skin is fucking thick. But Riley? She doesn’t deserve this, and I’ll do everything I can to minimize the damage and protect her because I know exactly how low these people can go.
The plan forms in my head quickly. It’s the only way for me to be there for her like I promised. To be there for our baby. I can only hope she’ll agree.
I pull my buzzing phone from my pocket and find my mom’s name on the screen. Surely, she already read the news.
I don’t answer. Riley is my priority now.
Dad calls, then Hunter. I ignore them both, but when Piper’s name flashes on my screen, my heart twitches. She’s my best friend, though I can’t remember the last time I talked to her openly. Before Owen died, that’s for sure. There’s no way I’m reverting to that now.
I put my phone on silent and slip it back into my pocket. All these conversations can wait. They can think I’m being an asshole. I don’t give a flying fuck. This isn’t about them.
Wyatt stops around the corner from Riley’s place. I pull my cap lower, draw my hood up over it, and climb out of my car. Head low, I hurry into her building, praying no one sees me. If even one person photographs me, it won’t take them long to connect the dots.
I knock three times then wait, foot tapping, for her to answer.
“Hayden?” Riley’s eyes round as she opens the door for me. She’s in a light blue off-the-shoulder summer dress. “We aren’t meeting until twelve thirty. What are you doing here?”
I push inside her apartment without waiting for her to invite me in. I shut the door quickly. “Hi. Sorry—something came up, and I changed my plans.”
“I think you mean to sayourplans.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What happened? You look like you’ve just been hit with bad news.”
Oh, how accurate she is.
“Someone leaked the pregnancy news,” I blurt. I don’t have the wherewithal to soften the blow. “Your name isn’t out yet, but the paparazzi are already outside my building. I didn’t want you to find out from the internet, so here I am.”
Her face drains of color as she takes a step back. “I don’t—” She presses a hand to her stomach, her shoulders drooping. “I don’t want public attention. I?—”
She snaps her mouth shut and bolts for the bathroom.
I follow and crouch beside her on the floor as she leans over the toilet. I collect her hair and pull it back, then rub her back in gentle circles.
When her body convulses under my palm, my heart pinches. She’s small and fragile beside me, and I feel so damn helpless.
Eventually, she slumps back, her breathing faltering. “Can you…bring me some…w-water?”
I dart to the kitchen, and when I return, she sips the water slowly.
