by Mia Josephs
Chris led her to the left. To his car. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll be in touch Cori!” Jaxen called before going back inside.
Corinne stumbled. All she had to do was stay off Jaxen’s radar. That’s it. He wouldn’t have thought to seek out Jonah on his own, but she’d been stupid enough to come here and now… Now… Who knew what would come of this one, stupid meeting. Home. She had to get back home. She wanted her warm walls around her, and her long driveway between her and the road that was miles from civilization. Craved it. Needed the shelter she’d made.
“Hey… You okay?” Chris asked, squeezing her to him.
She jerked away from him, limbs shaking. Everything in her shook. “No. I’m so very far from okay. I need Jonah. Take me back or get me a cab, or…”
“I got you.” Chris tugged her arms and she fell into him, letting the warmth of his body help lessen the quaking that wracked her body. “I got you. We’re fine. I promise.”
Chris had no idea.
Corinne had been silent back to Chris’ house. Her knees curled to her chest. Her arms clutched her legs protectively. He wanted to understand, but he knew there was no real way to put himself in her position.
His stomach tied itself in knots as they drove. Each minute of silence winding the knots more tightly.
The second they were back in his garage, Corinne sprinted into the house. Chris balled his hands into fists as he watched her go. Why had he insisted she go with him? Why had he walked away from her? Why hadn’t he run over to the stadium, done his one song, and come back? Now the exact thing she didn’t want… The simple truth was that he’d wanted her there for him. Chris pushed through the garage door into the house, dragging his feet.
Max stood next to the kitchen counter, annoyance all over his tight features.
“What the hell happened?” Max asked. “She ran straight for Jonah.”
Chris paused in the white living room. “We ran into Jaxen. She hasn’t… She hasn’t really spoken since then.”
“Fuck.” Max sighed. “She’ll want to go home. Don’t stop her.”
He didn’t want her to go home. He wanted to fix this. Make it better. Show her that they didn’t have to worry about Jaxen. He couldn’t do that if she was in Washington and he was stuck in California.
Chris took a few steps to his friend. “Why are you so damn protective?”
“She could have had her own career. We both know it.”
Chris nodded.
Max slumped looking defeated or sorry in a way that Chris had never seen. “I was younger then. I saw her as the gateway to re-launch someone who I’d been lucky enough to be a manager for simply because the older guy I worked with died of a heart attack, and I was what’s left. I should have pushed her forward on her own. But we both know that talented only sometimes equals success, and she was so young… I should have pushed her career, and instead I sold the idea to her that she could help someone amazing. Someone famous. And she fell for it. And I’ve known what an asshole I am since that moment.”
And Chris knew the rest of the story. She’d fallen for Jaxen, and Jaxen had left her in the worst way possible. Max could have taken the risk and made Corinne famous, but used her for Jaxen instead. Max had probably not only helped her get out of LA, but also helped her find work writing songs since then—trying to make up for how thoroughly he’d screwed her in the beginning.
Chris watched Max for a moment longer and then walked to the hallway and Jonah’s room.
She stood half in Jonah’s room and half out. He noticed her like he always did. The muscles in her legs, the curve of her back… But in that moment, he wanted to hold her. To take away all the hurt and fear she had. But he wasn’t sure if he was equipped to do that. If he knew how. Or maybe this was like his addiction counseling. Maybe this was something that came down to her. That she had to do. He didn’t know. How did people know how to get along? Know what to do for each other? Did it just come, or did you have to work at it? He was willing to work. He’d do anything. But with the defeat that seemed to rest like weights on her shoulders, he wasn’t sure if she’d let him.
He stopped behind her, just close enough to feel her warmth and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t do this, Chris. I can’t be here.” She blinked and he watched a stream of tears continue rolling down her face. “I’m not coming back. I don’t…”
His mind went blank. His heart stopped. The knots in his stomach had swallowed him whole. “But.”
“I lost everything twice. I lost my dignity and my first love and so much when I came to LA at eighteen. I love everything the second time when I lost my sister, my fiancé…” She turned to face him, finally taking her eyes off her son. “I’m not losing it again. I’m just not. It kills me sometimes to put Jonah on the bus in the morning because I have to give up control. I know that’s my short-coming, but you have to know that fear comes from such a real place. To be faced with losing him to a father who didn’t care… I just… I can’t.”
Chris took her hand. “Come with me?”
Corinne didn’t speak, but let herself be led back through the living room. Max was gone, and Chris guessed that he’d left for home, giving them space and privacy.
Chris slid open the porch door and sat in a double-wide lounge chair. Corinne followed, her eyes on the blackness of the ocean instead of him as she sat.
“I wish I knew what to do,” he whispered. “I want to make this better.”
Corinne once again pulled her knees to her chest, wiping her cheeks. “I need home. As soon as Jonah wakes up, I want to go home. I can’t do this. The stress… It’s eating at me. All the time.”
The words pounded in his head. He didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know. “Where does that leave us?”
She let out a breath. Let herself relax enough to tip her head and rest it on his shoulder. “That leaves us with the knowledge that we both started something that we wouldn’t be able to finish. That I learned I can move forward. That I can be Jonah’s mom and fall in love, just not with you.”
His throat swelled and he blinked back tears. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Not like this. Not over something so...fixable.”
“It’s not fixable,” she said quietly.
It was. It had to be. And what even was “it” exactly? Her fears? Jaxen? Location? All things that could be solved in time.
“We both learned something, Chris. That’s enough. It wasn’t pointless. And I love that we’re going our separate ways and that we’re not angry.”
Going their separate ways? He’d never split with someone while sitting together in a chair and whispering. How did he fight this? What could he say? She was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it. None of this was in his hands. “You saved me, Corinne Grace.”
“You saved yourself.”
“No.” He kissed the top of her head, tears pressing into his eyes. “You saved me. I don’t know how to let you go. I don’t fully understand why I should.”
She took his hand, her eyes focused on where they touched. “You drop me at the airport, or hug me outside the car and wish me a good life, and I’ll do the same.”
“This is stupid.” They got along. He didn’t just want her, he wanted Jonah, too. The sheer helplessness to keep her left him without words.
“We knew. From day one we both knew. We live different lives, and mine would be okay for you for a while, but not forever.” Her voice was quiet, but resigned and sure. She’d made her decision already. “And I’ve tried what you have. I came here. I can’t do it.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tighter because if he had the words to keep her there, he hadn’t yet found them. And then it hit him. What he was asking of her. Asking her to be with him. Asking her to give up her quiet life for his loud one, when she’d already experienced every downside of what he was. Maybe Max was right. What he wanted wasn’t fair to her or Jonah. He’d proven his selfishness in
begging her to come with him that night, and look what had happened because of it? He couldn’t handle the thought of Corinne and Jonah not being in his future, but he hadn’t been able to imagine going without alcohol and a lot of other things either. One day at a time. Did he really have to give them up too?
“It was worth it,” she said quietly. “You were worth it.”
He clung to her almost desperately, the sun now starting to lighten the sky signaling that she was a step closer to walking away. His heart ached and he started to wonder why he’d put himself in a position where everything was so hard. But he’d told her he was ready to have his heart broken, he just hadn’t realized it would happen so soon.
Morning came too soon.
Jonah woke up too soon.
He drove them to the airport, his throat so swollen he couldn’t speak. Tried to hug Jonah and pretend like this timing was what they’d planned all along. Tried to smile. Tried not to cling to Corinne when she put her arms around him.
And then just like she’d asked him to, he let her go.
Watched Corinne and Jonah walk up the steps of the plane.
He sat in his car as the plane left, taking the two people away that he wasn’t sure he could be without. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands ached. His body felt as if it would explode. People weren’t supposed to make him feel this way. This was almost worse than the detox. Almost worse than all the weeks of rehab. But even then, he knew there would be a good ending if he could stick with it. He had no such hope here. Instead he had to find a way to stay sober while moving forward. The problem was that he no longer knew what he was moving forward for.
TWENTY FOUR
Corinne turned on her phone when their plane touched the ground in Seattle, and the vibration notifications wouldn’t stop. She clutched the phone more tightly as she watched her Facebook notifications scroll down the front page. What the…
She clicked into Facebook and her heart dropped.
A blurry picture of her and Chris taken in the parking lot outside the concert, his arm protectively around her shoulders and her leaning into him.
Is this really you? A friend asked. Who is this mystery girl? Echoed over and over. Has Christian Meyer actually cleaned himself up?
In seconds all the words and comments and tags had blended together.
One day. One day in LA. She backed out of the App and deleted Facebook from her phone with quivering hands. Where would her mistake creep into her life next?
Later today people would recognize her as Jaxen Pritt’s ex-girlfriend, and from there… Was Jonah safe? Her first real day in California she’d run into Jaxen and had her picture scattered over the Internet. Would they find her home? Jonah’s school? Where she worked?
Jonah followed Corinne to their car, chattering about the game he’d played on the plane. She was in a haze when they got in the car, and as she navigated out of the airport, and as she drove through the Starbucks drive-thru, and as they started up I-90. Jonah’s questions were constant. I thought we were going to stay there today. Why didn’t we stay? When will Chris come visit? And a million other questions she wasn’t quite sure how to answer.
Fielding Jonah’s questions while trying not to cry, was going to do her in. The drive home was more exhausting than anything she remembered doing, despite the venti coffee she had clutched in her hands.
She didn’t want to face questions from Jonah. From Heather. From her mother. No one.
She’d been stupid to let Chris in her front door, stupider for letting him stay, and how could she even explain her allowing him to get close to Jonah?
She grabbed her coffee and took a long drink, begging her tears to remain un-fallen until she could be alone.
Jonah punched a few more buttons on his game.
“When you’re done with that, could you read me a story?” she asked. Anything to divert her attention.
“Okay,” Jonah answered like their trip had been normal. Like their day had been any other day. At least she’d gotten that part right.
Chris pulled in another deep breath, but his chest ached so hard, that it was like splitting himself open trying to move his ribs that way. The morning sun beating against the side of his house hadn’t relaxed him the way it normally did, and he ran his hands through his hair again as he stood on the porch, waiting for Iris.
The front gate opened, and Iris’ small, tan car stopped in front of him. Tension ramped up, but not as fast as the relief he felt in having her near.
The moment Iris’ short, round form stood up from the driver’s seat of her car, Chris grabbed her in a hug. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Since rehab he hadn’t needed his sponsor as much as he had since Corinne had left. A week and not a word from her. Seven days had never felt so long.
“Let’s walk,” Iris suggested as she patted his back. “Up the beach. You can talk there.”
Chris nodded, twitching his fingers and slipping his feet into flip-flops.
“Take me to get some of those scones you’re always talking about.” Iris smiled.
Chris nodded again, almost frantically. “They always sell coffee and scones… Well, until they decide to close at night. No set hours…” he rambled.
Iris rested a chubby hand on his arm—something motherly and warm radiated through him. “You called, Chris. That’s great.”
He looked over this tough woman again. Sober for thirty years, and she still admitted that some days were easier than others. So many things felt like an uphill climb. Was it just him, or had he chosen colossally bad over and over and over again?
“I talked to my mom for a while today, too.” He pushed out a breath as they took the outside stairs to the beach.
“And what did she say?”
“That I had to give Corinne space. That maybe we would work things out, and maybe we wouldn’t. That she was proud of me, and then she said I should call you.”
“And you did.”
“I did.”
Chris didn’t even look up for photographers. Didn’t want to know if they were there. He’d be likely to kill one of them. Max had shoved his iPad in Chris’ face as soon as he’d come back from the airport, showing Chris that damage had already been done. The exact thing Corinne didn’t want, and he’d let it happen because he wanted her with him. Max was right. Chris had been selfish.
“And I’d imagine that being on tour has you nervous as well. I’d guess there are about a million triggers while you’re on the road,” Iris continued.
Chris nodded. “But Lita’s a total straight arrow. She said she’ll duct tape me to her side after the show until her and her boyfriend need time…” He shook his head. “You get the idea.”
Iris chuckled. “I can’t help you with the girl, but I’m so damn proud of you, Chris.”
He watched their feet in the sand. His, strong, tanned feet, and her chubby white ones. An odd pairing, but one that worked—at least for him.
“Day at a time, right?” he asked.
“Works for everything,” she answered.
He hoped so because he wanted to tear something apart. Wanted to scream. Wanted to hide. Wanted to drown himself in ridiculously expensive whiskey and anything else he could get his hands on. “Right now I just want to get through tonight.”
“Good.” She patted his arm. “And then in the morning tell yourself to get through the morning, to get through your band practices or whatever you call them, and then later you can tell yourself to get through the night. Bit at a time. Do what you can. And I know you can keep yourself clean. I know you can.”
He knew he could too, and he wasn’t sure if he was glad for his determination or frustrated. He did know that breathing had never been harder.
TWENTY FIVE
Two weeks.
Two weeks since Corinne had left California.
A gazillion Facebook hits according to Heather.
She didn’t know how many missed calls because she hadn’t turned on h
er cell phone after deleting Facebook.
Corinne was never going on Facebook again. Was so very thankful she used her parents’ Seattle address for so many things.
She pounded out the bread dough before shaping the loaves and setting them on her baking sheet.
The door pushed open and Corinne said, “Hey Heather,” before glancing up.
“What is all this?” Heather asked as she side-stepped around boxes.
“The clothes. Courtesy of Christian Meyer incorporated.” She hadn’t opened the boxes, afraid of memories. Afraid they’d smell like him. His house. They’d arrived the day before, and all she’d done was shove them out of the doorway.
“Well. If you get bored with all of this awesome…” She didn’t look up but knew Heather was doing some big gesture near the boxes. “…the boxes can find a home at my house.”
She should probably just send everything over now, but she wasn’t ready to let go of it—whether or not it made sense.
“How you holding on?” Heather asked.
“How’s Dan?” Corinne asked.
Heather snorted before stopping next to the kitchen. “Just because my husband almost died, doesn’t mean you can use him as an excuse to not talk about your problems.”
The oven beeped to signal it was heated, and Corinne slid in the two loaves, fully knowing she hadn’t let them rise long enough. Whatever. “I feel like all the reasons I was afraid to get involved were slapped in my face within twenty-four hours of arriving in California. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Depends on what you want to do, I guess.” Heather sighed. “I get that there are downsides. But have you seen yourself? You’re fourteen days off Christian Meyer and you’re a hot mess.”
Corinne looked down at her oldest yoga pants because she hadn’t done laundry and her three-days-since-a-shampoo hair… “I’m allowed to be a mess for a while.”
“You are.” Heather stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a dishcloth and started wiping flour off the small counters. “It’s just not like you.”