Dallas's posture grew progressively more tense as I explained everything that had happened with Kristen first and then, Luke.

Halfway through the recap of my conversation with Luke, he leapt off my bed. "Holy shit," he said, interrupting me. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

Good question.

"Uh, kind of been in shock over here. My life went from normal to a living nightmare in the span of less than 24 hours. Still not exactly thinking clearly, in case it wasn't obvious."

I circled back to detailing the sordid chain of events, finishing my story. By the end, Dallas was pacing the floor of my room, nearly as distressed as I was.

"But you didn't do anything wrong." He turned on his heel, making another lap. "I remember you telling me the next day after Kristen pulled that stunt. You didn't say she could make that recording."

Logically, I knew he was right. But I was still pissed at myself for trusting her in the first place.

"That doesn't change the situation I'm in now."

Dallas shook his head, raking a hand through his dark hair. "You have to tell Bailey."

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Morrison is going to blow up her entire world."

I knew Ward meant well, but I'd been second-guessing and agonizing over that very decision for the better part of the last three days. If it was as simple as telling her, I would have done it 76 hours ago.

"How would he know if you told her the truth?"

That was the million-dollar question. But the price if he did was far too high—Bailey losing everything she'd worked three years for. Her shot at a career. A future. Being financially independent, which I knew mattered to her more than she'd ever admit.

Not to mention, the blowback in her personal life. I had skin thicker than an alligator hide, but Bailey didn't.

"I don't know," I said, prickly unease washing over me. "Morrison knows all kinds of shit he shouldn't. How does he know about her internship? It's creepy as hell."

When I met Stewart's PI, Vincent, yesterday, the first thing I asked him to do was make sure Luke didn't have a tail on Bailey. Vincent told me to sit tight, so now I was obsessively watching my phone, waiting for an update. Waiting to hear whether he'd gotten a hold of the full tape, knew who else might have it, knew anything.

So far, no word. I couldn't even contact Stewart again until Vincent gave me the all-clear.

Sitting, waiting, losing my goddamn mind.

"Maybe you should let Bailey decide what she wants to do," Dallas said. "Let her choose whether she is okay with the risk."

"You don't think I want to? Giving her the choice might be the same thing as making it for her. If I tell her and Morrison finds out, he'll go nuclear regardless of whether she's okay with it. Game over."

Every time I thought about it, the fallout played in my head like a horror movie: that fucking email going to all her friends, her family, everyone affiliated with her scholarship and internship. Bailey's life falling apart like a house of cards, all because of me.

It was entirely possible Morrison was going to pull the trigger at some point anyway, with or without dragging Bailey into it. God willing, it would be without. I could handle that, at least. At the end of the day, I could own up to the things I'd done, even if I hadn't intended them to be public knowledge.

Whether Bailey would want to be with me once she knew about the tape, though, was still a question mark. One I was a little afraid to know the answer to.

"If you don't tell her," Dallas said gently, "you could lose her."

It winded me like a hockey stick to the stomach. I knew he was right, but I couldn't accept that as a real possibility. I couldn't accept being the reason for her dreams going up in smoke either, which was why I was trapped in this hellish purgatory.

My fingers itched to pick up the phone. Better yet, to go over there and see her. I missed her more than anything in the world. Not being able to see her was literal torture. It hadn't even been that long and it felt like I was missing a limb.

"I'm trying to keep her out of the blast zone, here. I don't care what happens to me, but I can't let her get dragged into this shit. What would you do if it was Shiv?"

"I'd try to protect her," Dallas admitted. "At all costs."

"Exactly. Priority number one was pushing her out of the path of an oncoming freight train. If you have any ideas beyond that, I'm all ears."

Beside me on my bed, my phone lit up.

*

"You going to come to my first NHL game?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

*

Waiting a few hours to meet with Vincent after dinner felt like a fucking eternity. Dallas tried to stay with me but somehow, his anxiety level was feeding into my own. I finally forced him to leave the house and keep his original plans with Shiv.

In the meantime, Vincent gave me the go-ahead to talk to Stewart. That made me feel like I was doing something constructive—or destructive, possibly, because Stewart and I agreed that he was going to pre-emptively inform Los Angeles about the situation. Possibly, I was about to ruin my future career. But Stewart said getting ahead of it the best way to go, and I knew he was right.

It was just after eight by the time I met Vincent at the same place as the day before. The grimy pub was located on the other end of town in an industrial park and seemed more than a little shady. Vincent claimed it was "a secure location" for some reason. It looked like anything but. I got the sense I shouldn't question it, though. Maybe the cockroaches moonlighted as security.

I headed to the back corner and slid into the booth across from Vincent. He had hard features, amplified by a jagged scar down his left cheek. It didn't seem like he would blend in easily enough to be a PI, but Stewart said his nickname was "The Ghost." Hopefully he'd live up to it.

Vincent steepled his fingers on the table, looking at me with a grim expression. He was a brand new addition to my shortlist of terrifying people, just one notch below Stewart. I got the feeling if I asked Vincent to have Morrison offed, he'd give me a price and ask me when I wanted it done by.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it.

"Before we go any further," Vincent said, "we have a don't ask, don't tell policy for the source of this stuff. Which also means it's not admissible in court."

"That's fine." My foot landed on something sticky on the floor beneath the table and it made a ripping sound as I repositioned my legs. "I just need to know."

"As we discussed, I've got a copy of the full video," Vincent said. "Or rather, I have both clips as it was digitally split into two."

"Okay, can I see the second one?"

He extended his hand, offering me his black Samsung Android. Nausea bowled into me as I accepted, hitting play and turning the volume to its lowest setting.

Clip 2 of 2

— RECORDING STARTS —

[1:35:02 AM]

Nicole: Come on already.

Chase: Wait, I need to grab another—what the fuck, Kristen? How long have you had that out? Put that shit away.

[background noise]

Chase: Get off me, Nikki.

Nicole: (unintelligible)

Kristen: It's not on, Chase. I'm just messing around.

Chase: I don't care. Let me see your phone.

Kristen: But you look so good on camera.

Chase: What? You better not be recording this.

[background noise]

Kristen: (laughs) Or what?

Chase: I'm not fucking around. Give me the phone.

Chase: Now, Kristen. I don't need Coach seeing this.

Kristen: You're such a downer. Relax, I'll delete it. See?

[1:36:09AM]

— RECORDING ENDS —

The video ended and I held the phone, staring at the frozen screen without blinking.

Just like I'd thought.

A murky mixture of feelings swirled within me. Vindication, anger, regret. I'd been so focused on funneling my rage toward Morrison that I hadn't even begun to think about what to do with Kristen. First, she made the recording—editing the clip to fuck me extra hard—and then she sold me out for practically pennies.

"If you give the police probable cause when you press charges, sometimes they dig up this stuff themselves." Vincent nodded at his phone, still in my hand with the screen having gone black. "Your audio recording, which was legally obtained, gives them a good starting point to go hunting for this. It shouldn't be too hard to find unless the cop working the case is a total fucking moron." He heaved a weary sigh. "Though unfortunately, many of them are."

With my luck, I'd definitely end up with the fucking moron variety working my case. Problem for another time, though.

I handed his phone back to him from across the table. "Was anyone following Bailey?"

"No. But I assume you're aware that you were being followed?"

An icy sensation trickled down my spine. "Well, I had an inkling." That didn't make confirming it any less disturbing, though.

"Another PI firm. Travers Mill. Top shelf prices, bottom tier, sloppy work. They were retained by"—he glanced down and checked his notes—"Lucas Morrison to follow you."

No surprise there.

"For how long?"

"A month."

Holy shit. Since he pulled the car stunt with Bailey.

When he saw my expression, he shrugged. "Like I said, they're sloppy. Practically left behind a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Are they still tailing me?"

"No." His thin lips quirked. "And they won't be again. I've seen to that."

"Wait, if no one was following Bailey, how did Morrison know all that stuff about Bailey's life?"

"Oh, Travers Mill was definitely poking around in her life. They just weren't following her like they were you. But they won't be poking around in her life anymore, either. Their investigator broke several laws and was too careless to conceal it properly. With that sort of leverage, you can expect them to leave you alone going forward."

Another arctic blast filled my body at the idea of Luke's minions snooping into Bailey's life. I tried to push it out of mind, focusing on the takeaway message. They were gone now.

"Does that mean it's safe for me to go talk to her?"

"Yes," he said. "At some point, Travers Mill have to give Luke a client update and let him know they were exposed, but you have a small window of opportunity before that happens. I'm going to tail you myself for the next few days for extra surety."

A rush of air flooded my lungs, like I'd been holding my breath without realizing it.

I could see her. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Beg for her forgiveness, or at least try.

"I believe Stewart is handling the legal end of things as we speak," he added.

"Believe so."

In addition to talking to the management for Los Angeles, Stewart told me he was going to "leash that sorry excuse for a shitstain" by going straight to the source of said stain—Luke's parents. As lawyers, he felt they'd be pretty receptive in light of the recording from the truck and the threat of a messy, public lawsuit.

Either it would work, or it wouldn't. I couldn't wait any longer to find out. If the coast was clear, nothing was going to keep me from going to see her.

*

"Yellow."

"Are you okay?"

"I want a kiss."

"I thought you were getting overstimulated."

"No, I was getting lonely up here."

"Well, we can't have that. Do you want me to untie you?"

"Not yet. But I need you to make good on all this teasing soon or I'm going to lose my mind."

*

After insisting to Siobhan that it was perfectly okay to have Dallas come over as planned, I realized only too late that I felt weird seeing him.

Cracking open my bedroom door, I peeked for any signs of life. I tiptoed into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Turns out, crying non-stop was shockingly dehydrating. I didn't think I had ever drunk as much water as I had in the past few days.

To add to my stress, Shiv had gotten hold of Kristen's number for me earlier today. I hadn't used it yet. I was still trying to formulate the right thing to say. Was there really a right thing to say in this situation?

As I turned to fill my glass from the dispenser in the fridge, a text popped up on my home screen. Luke again. One reason I'd hesitated to change my number in the first place—it was a pain, and I knew he'd still track me down sooner or later. Turns out, I was right.

I paused, staring at the display. Irritation sparked within me, along with another flicker of heartache. I didn't need someone to twist the knife when it was already buried so deep.

Unlocking my phone, I navigated into my texts to delete the message. My intention was to erase it without opening it—without paying any attention to it whatsoever—but the wording of the message preview sucked me in, and I took the bait, even though I knew I shouldn't.

Luke: Trouble in paradise?

Bailey: Stop texting me, stalker.

Luke: Don't be angry with me because Carter dumped you.

Bailey: How do you even know that?

Luke: I know everything.

Bailey: From what I hear, you have problems of your own to worry about.

Luke: What are you talking about?

Bailey: Guess I know everything, too.

Luke: Everything? Did you know about his sex tape?

Luke: Told you he wasn't who you thought he was.

[attachment]

What?

The photo thumbnail told me all I needed to know. It was a photo of guy with dark hair, kissing a girl while holding a joint in one hand. His face was mostly obscured by smoke.

But I knew that side profile—that jawline and that nose. I knew that hair. I knew those hands.

Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting crash. I glanced down to find the remains of my empty cup covering the dark grey tile floor. My bare feet were surrounded by glittering sea of pale blue glass. It didn't just break. It shattered.

"Oh my god." Shiv ran into the kitchen. Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I heard you scream. What happened? Are you okay?"

Did I scream?

"I—" I shook my head. "The—no."

Shockwaves resonated through my brain. Still clutching my phone, I tried to take a step.

She held up a hand. "No, don't move. There's glass everywhere. Let me clean this up first."

"The video."

She eyed me, confused. "What video?"

"Chase," I said. "Video."

My stomach pitched. Nothing made sense. Why didn't he tell me?

Dallas rushed through the doorway. "Shit." He froze, pale blue eyes wide. "Where's the broom?"

"There's a brush and dustpan in the hall closet. Can you grab the vacuum, too?" Shiv turned back to me. "Just stay put. Let me start sweeping it up so Dal can vacuum."

A moment later, Dallas returned with the upright vacuum and brush with dustpan. He handed the brush and dustpan to Shiv, waiting for her to finish gathering up the larger pieces. Shiv knelt down, sweeping up shards of glass into the dustpan.

The room threatened to turn sideways while I stood glued to the spot, drawing in shallow breaths. Everything turned a little fuzzy, vision tunneling grey at the outer edges. I'd never hyperventilated before, but I was pretty sure that was what was going on.

My phone rang in my hand and I hit decline. It rang again. Then it started to blow up with more texts and non-stop incoming calls. Derek, Zara, Noelle, it all turned into a blur. I hit decline over and over again as the ringer kept going off, not even looking at the caller ID. Finally, I sent the three of them a quick text telling them I was okay but I couldn't talk. Then I switched my phone into Do Not Disturb. Not a chance I could deal with anyone right now.

I caught Dallas's eye. "Did you know about the video?"

His face fell. "Uh..." He looked down, throat bobbing.

"Dallas," I pleaded, desperation rising to the surface. "Please tell me what's going on."

"Look, if there's anything like that floating around, it's old. From well before Carter ever met you. That's all I can say."

I nodded slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening. What Dallas was saying made sense—Chase's hair was longer than I'd ever seen it, in the photo. For that reason, among others, I didn't really think it was recent. That wasn't my main concern. I just didn't know why Chase hadn't told me. Did he know it was about to leak?

Then it hit me. He did know. And that was why he ended it.

The dull ache in my heart turned into a searing, stabbing pain.

Did he think I wouldn't love him anymore?

How alone must he have felt to do something like that?

"What video?" Shiv asked, glancing over at him as she stood back up. Dallas shook his head, giving her a terse glance that said it all.

"Bailey." She gasped, looking down at my feet. "You're bleeding."

"Huh?" I looked down to find a pool of dark red blood pooling beneath my left heel. I didn't even feel the cut happen. "Oh."

"Do you need help bandaging it up?"

"No, I can get it. Once I get out of here."

Dallas switched on the vacuum and it hummed to life as he began to clean the perimeter around me. Once there was a clear pathway, I hopped over to the paper towels on one foot, grabbing a sheet for my cut and another for the floor. Taking some all-purpose cleaner from the cabinet, I quickly kneeled down and sprayed down the tile, wiping it off. At least my blood didn't get on the grout. The literal only silver lining to my week.

With a piece of paper towel awkwardly wrapped around my heel, I opened the cupboard under the sink, stashing the bottle of cleaner and throwing the used paper towels in the garbage.

Keeping my weight on my uninjured foot, I straightened up, facing Dallas and Siobhan. All I could think of was getting to Chase.