This One Moment (Pushing Limits, #1)

“No one thinks that.” My words were nothing more than a lie, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying them. To give her some small amount of hope, no matter how tiny it might have been.

“Really?” She turned the laptop so I could read the comments on the band’s unofficial fan site. “And it’s not just here. A girl at the store recognized me and made her opinion about me quite clear….Oh, and to top it off, I remembered something there that might have to do with what happened to me, but I can’t be sure.” Her words came out fast, tripping over themselves.

“What did you remember?”

She continued staring at the computer screen. “Nothing much, really. A man asked why the fuck the other person had brought me there. I was lying down and my eyes were closed. When I opened them, I couldn’t see anything.”

“Nothing at all?”

“It was dark and they were shining a flashlight in my face.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

She shook her head and slouched forward. “I just want to remember. I’m tired of having this gap in my life and not knowing what happened.”

I placed the laptop on the coffee table and pulled her into my arms. “I know.” But I didn’t. Had it been in my power, I would have done anything to switch places with her. For Hailey to be the one who remembered what happened and for me to stay oblivious to my own private hell.

She rested her head against my shoulder and started crying. I held her tighter, as useless as that was. I had a feeling she wasn’t crying because she was mourning her missing memories. It was a combination of that and the hate oozing from the fan sites because of the lies. Beyond holding her, I didn’t know what to do. About anything.

My cellphone pinged. I ignored it, not wanting to let go of Hailey just yet.

Hailey’s phone pinged. As did mine, again. And if that wasn’t enough, they both started playing music to let us know we had calls.

Realizing something big was going down, I picked up my phone as she answered hers.

“What’s up?” I asked Brandon.

“Dude, have you seen the press conference with Alyssa Graham?”

I frowned, an expression reflected on Hailey’s face. “What press conference?”

He told me what site to find it on. Whoever Hailey was talking to must have told her the same thing. She was already pulling it up.

“I’m watching it now. I’ll call you right back.” I ended the call and we watched the video footage.

Alyssa was standing outside, the sun shining behind her, lighting up her blond hair and giving her an angelic appearance. Even though I couldn’t see the person, I knew her handler was within arm’s reach, ready to end the press conference if necessary. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m going to issue a statement first on behalf of myself and Tyler Erickson, and then I’ll try to answer your questions.”

I glanced at Hailey. Her face was free of emotion. I had no idea if that was a bad thing or not.

“First, Tyler and I thank everyone for the support you have shown us over the past few months. As you may have recently heard, his mother and sister were victims of domestic abuse when he was a teen. It was that tragedy that brought us together. For a number of years I’ve been involved with the emergency women’s shelter in L.A., and through the generosity of people like Tyler, the shelter has been able to make a difference in the lives of those women who are survivors of abuse.

“Tyler has been donating to the shelter for several years, and that’s how we met. Because of what we have in common in our own lives, we’ve grown close during the past few months. He recently returned to his hometown to help out a friend.

“Members of the media tracked him down there and pried into his personal life. Tyler chose to go by a pseudonym because he didn’t want what happened to his family to overshadow the hard work he’s done to prove himself. He wanted his talent to speak for itself.

“I am aware the paparazzi stalked Tyler and photographed him with another woman while he was dealing with his grief. I can promise you that he and I are still together. The photo misrepresented the situation, which, as we all know, is typical of the paparazzi. Only a few weeks ago they were proclaiming I was pregnant with Tyler’s love child. But as you can clearly see, that is not the case.” She rubbed her hand over her flat stomach to emphasize her point. Several reporters chuckled. “Questions?”

“How can you be so sure there is nothing going on between them?” a reporter offscreen asked. “The photos that went viral suggest otherwise.”

“Because I trust Tyler when he says nothing is going on between them. And he’s never given me a reason not to trust him.”

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