P.S. I’m Still Yours: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Silver Springs)
P.S. I’m Still Yours: Prologue

You weren’t wearing a tie.

Of all the things I could’ve been thinking about in the middle of my brother’s funeral, that’s what stood out to me.

Never mind that I was standing in front of the whole town, choking on my grief as I tried to finish my twin’s eulogy. My brain chose to focus on you.

You, Kane.

You who’d just stumbled into the church with your almost seven-foot-tall bodyguard. I can still see it so vividly. Your brown hair was a perfect mess, and I mean the “I’m not sure if he spent hours on this look or if he rolled out of bed ten minutes ago and called it a day” kind.

You were wearing big I’m famous black shades, a tailored suit I’m sure cost more than my family home, and a white dress shirt with the first two buttons undone. Oh, and don’t forget the alcohol flask in your hand.

You told your bodyguard to wait by the doors as you stuffed the flask in your pocket and staggered down the center aisle. Anyone with eyes could see that you were drunk as you plopped down next to your mom a few rows from the lectern, ignoring her disapproving glares as you did.

That’s right, you were wasted.

Like showing up thirty minutes late to your oldest friend’s funeral wasn’t bad enough.

Your mom said something beneath her breath, but you ignored her.

Then you looked straight at me.

At least, I’d like to think you did.

Your sunglasses were too dark to know for sure, but I swear I could feel your eyes on me, watching me, drinking me in for the first time in years.

Something broke in my chest in that moment.

But it wasn’t my heart.

Hell no.

It couldn’t be.

I considered looking away, but I wanted you to know that I’d seen you.

That I hated you.

I hated you for leaving us behind, but mostly, I hated that it took Gray getting murdered for you to come back.

I held your gaze as I wrapped up my speech. I held your gaze until you couldn’t hold mine. You looked down at your hands, shame oozing out of you, and it felt good to see you squirm.

You felt like shit for a second there.

In spite of the money.

In spite of the fame.

In spite of your new life and your adoring, screaming fans.

You. Felt. Like. Shit.

And that meant you were still human.

Even if just deep down inside.

I stepped away from the stand and retook my seat next to my mother, unaware that a bunch of men with cameras were fifteen minutes away from bursting through the doors and crashing my brother’s funeral just to get a few pictures of you.

I can still hear your mom’s apologies as your bodyguard led you out of the church and into a car waiting out front. Just like that, you were gone.

Again.

I should’ve been used to it. After all, it wasn’t my first time watching you leave. But it still made me think of the countless summers we’d spent together.

I thought of the first time I ever heard you sing. The nights we’d spend catching fireflies at the beach house. Back when you were just a boy with a broken guitar and I was a naïve girl in love with her brother’s best friend.

My mind brought me back to the start.

And for the first time since you left…

I let it.