Blurring the Lines (19 page)

“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 j
ust 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 Cori
nne 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 g
ive 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 her 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.”

“Maybe I’ve taken one too many hits.” Corinne let her eyes fall closed as she leaned against the counter.

“Maybe you’re looking for blows where there aren’t any. I know that facing Jaxen is the last thing you want to do, but what if all he wants is to see Jonah? What if…” Heather paused, almost like she wasn’t going to continue, but she would. Heather never left a thought unfinished. “What if he’s an asshole, but he’s not a diabolical asshole.”

Corinne snorted. “Right.”

“No. What if he really does just want to say ‘hi.’ I know that’s stressing you out, but it might be one thing to get off your plate, you know? Because your plate is pretty damn full of crap right now.”

“And what if he wants him?” Corinne countered.

“Yeah…” Heather rinsed out the rag. Both friends had been better at talking when they had something to do. She started wiping on the other side of the sink. “I’m saying I love that you live out here, but we’re your only neighbors. Jonah just started going to school. You’re not actually friends with anyone you work with or teach aside from me. I mean you have friends, but none close enough to actually share things with. Are you really living?”

“My heart hurts.” Corinne pressed a hand to her chest. “So much of the time. Hurts over Jaxen and the future I could have had and hurts over John and my sister and the accident. Hurts over what Jonah deserves in his life.”

Heather dropped the rag and leaned against the fridge next to Corinne, resting their arms together. “Just remember that sort of the worst things happened and you didn’t burst into flames.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re all over the Internet, and I’m sure that’ll die down fairly soon, but you’re here. No one’s camped at the end of your driveway, and even if they were, it wouldn’t last long. You survived.”

Sur
vived. Yeah. Corinne had survived a lot, but maybe that wasn’t enough. “I don’t want to just survive.”

“Then you need to really figure out how you want to live because I think you’ve been pretending for longer than we realized. And why not talk to Jonah? I know you don’t want to worry him or stress him out, but he’s been through a lot. He’s tougher than most five year-olds.
Find a way to tell him what’s going on, but keep it on his level and make him feel like he has a say in all this.”

“The thought of him spending any time with Jaxen and without me… I can’t…” She crumpled at the thought of it. Jaxen had no idea what to do with a kid, and she couldn’t imagine letting him go without her. Ever.

“Yeah. Okay. Do you think Jaxen will disappear again? Do you think he’ll call?”

Corinne shrugged. “I’ve kept my phone off.”

Heather shifted her weight, and Corinne held up her hand.

“You don’t even have to say it. I know. I know. I’m pathetic. I’m just…”

“Scared.”

“Terrified,” Corinne corrected. “Terrified. Jonah is what I have.” On top of that she wasn’t sure how she’d hold up if Chris had sent her messages. Probably not well.

“Have you heard Chris’ new songs?”

“I think so.
I helped him write more than half of them.” Corinne shoved her hair back, pulling it into a loose ponytail.

“The Grace one?” Heather asked.

Grace
? Corinne shook her head. “I’m guessing I should be in a decent head space when I listen to it, huh?”

Heather pushed off and walked for the front door with an odd smirk on her face. “Something like that.”

The night should have felt like flying, and it did. Sort of. Kickoff for the tour. Donovan warmed the crowd up with his easy smile, clever stories, and interesting songs. Chris had come in and played the last few songs with him, making the crowd go insane. That was what he lived for. What he loved. What kept him from being a shell of a normal guy.

It wasn’t working.

He’d put off performing
Saving Grace
and he kept getting shouts from the crowd. Wondered if Corinne had heard it yet. Knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with not singing her song. Saved it for last.

He tapped the face of the guitar a few times as he stared at his feet, the crowd nearly silent with him aside from an occasional
I love you! Play Grace! You rock man!

And then Chris let the feeling of her and of the song wash over him before starting the first line, his voice almost raspy tired after the long performance.

Kicked down…

His fingers moved easily over the riff as the crowd went insane

...so low…

The rest of the riff.

...and only a woman, can let me go…

...lifted up…

...so high…

More finger work on the strings, so automatic now he didn’t even think about it.

...and only a woman, can make me fly…

The guitar picked up here, and he tried not to feel the words. To not feel how he felt in the moments he wrote this song, but he was pulled right back to Corinne’s living room—the smell of warm spices and the warmth from the fireplace.

...
to make a mess of me, to see the best in me, for the rest of me, come set me free…

Silence. Him. The guitar. The crowd, holding their breath for the finish.

...only a woman…

...only you…

...my saving grace...

Tears pressed against his eyes as he finished, and instead of sticking around like he was supposed to for the overlap with Lita (he’d deal with Lita killing him later) he gave one last wave and a thanks and shouted a few other things and then walked offstage, guitar in hand.

The second Max came into view Chris stopped. “I’m not doing that song again.”

“Yes,“ Max said. “You are.”

He stared at Max for a moment longer letting it sink in. Of course he knew he had to perform his lead song, but it had to get easier than this. Had to.