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“I’ll be here.”

I listened to her moving through the apartment, answering the phone on her way out the door.

“I’m coming! I just wanted to check on her again. No, not yet. No way! Why would he go on tonight?”

The door slammed.

I sat up straight.

He?

Was she talking about Silas?

Was he going to do a show?

Some part of me thought he would be done with the whole thing. But, of course, he had a contract. He had to show up.

I stumbled out of bed, walking on weak legs to the living room.

The sink was overflowing.

Flour dotted not only the counter and floor, but—somehow—the refrigerator.

And there was a tray of tragically charred cupcakes on the stove.

Despite the sinking sensation inside me, my lips curved up ever so slightly at that. Tess was not a baker. She couldn’t be trusted around an oven. But she’d tried. For me. Knowing that sweets were my comfort thing.

I wasn’t okay.

I probably wasn’t going to be okay for a while.

But Tess was right.

I would be. Eventually. Because I had her. And if I could drag her out of the deep hole her situationship caused, she could help pull me out of this.

I grabbed a cupcake, peeling off the top and bottom and taking the unburnt center with me to my desk, where I promised myself I was just going to hop onto the station’s website to listen to Tess and Margo’s live.

The problem?

The internet detectives not only found out my identity but found out Tess was my best friend and roommate.

The comments were scrolling so fast it was impossible to read them.

But I caught words here and there.

All of them pestering her about me.

About Silas.

About whether she knew.

If it was all just a scheme for views.

I didn’t know what moderators the girls had working on the chat, but they deserved a raise with how quickly they managed to block commenters or filter out certain words. Within fifteen minutes, it seemed a much more normal feed as the girls discussed the topic of lies in relationships.

Maybe someone else would have felt called out. But they never mentioned me. And Tess and Margo didn’t get as far as they had by not capitalizing on a trend.

Still, my heart couldn’t take the discussions, so I closed the tab and stared at the logo for The Midnight Frequency.