Blurring the Lines (5 page)

He needed Corinne back.

He sat on his sprawling porch, which rested nearly two full stories above the sand, and wondered why he was pushing so damn hard.

“There you are!” He recognized the voice of Lita James immediately and sat up.

She strode across his vast deck as if she weren’t wearing massive heels, like always. Her tiny, twenty-year-old frame was dwarfed by the tall guy next to her. A phenomenon with a Battle of the Bands win just after her seventeenth birthday had catapulted Lita to the top of the charts, and she hadn’t left since—her hard work had paid off.

He’d only met her boyfriend, Griffin, once—all kind smiles and southern over-the-top goodness. Chris guessed he kept Lita grounded in a way Chris couldn’t imagine.

“Have a seat,” he said and gestured at the sprawl of patio furniture.

Griffin stole a couple odd glances at him, but it wasn’t anything new to Chris. Griffin had just been dropped into a world where the people he listened to on the radio became real.

“How are you two?” Chris asked.

“How are
you
?” Lita asked back as Griffin scooted next to her on the lounge chair. She fluffed out her shagged blond hair, turning it into a mess around her small face—another Lita signature.

He had a moment of decision—tell her that his brain had crapped out? Or lie. Again. “Fine.”

Griffin absently played with the ends of Lita’s hair, and moved around her like they’d been together for ages, and not just a few months.

Lita cocked a brow. “Dates are set. We leave in two months. You sure you’re good?”

He waved her away. “I’m good. Of course I’m good. I’m behind because I’m a perfectionist.”

“You have a lot less to lose than I do.” Lita frowned. She may have been barely twenty, but the girl was a force.

“I totally disagree with that statement.” He chuckled. “You just got started in this business a couple of years ago. I’m trying to prove I’m not drugged out and washed up.”

“You’re not washed up.” Griffin’s voice was strong. Immediate.

Chris threw the kid a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“So. I have the two tracks you did a couple weeks ago.” Lita shifted and crossed her legs. “When do I get to hear the rest of the album? You know this is weird, right? To not have the whole thing done, like…
forever
ago?”

“I know it’s weird.” There was no point in arguing with her so Chris sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up. “You’ll hear it when it’s done. We’re fine. I think that for live shows, it’s sometimes better to have it feel a bit unrehearsed.”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

There was an awkward beat of silence on the porch as Griffin found something fascinating on the horizon and Chris wondered if he should call her on her age, her attitude, both or neither.

She let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

“Isn’t this something our managers are supposed to be hashing out?” he asked.

“You trust Max that much?” she asked back.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Lita sat back a little. “Well, me and Griffin have been working on a few things, so whenever you can get together for us to all three play a bit together, that would be great.”

“We’re together now.” Chris sat up again. This might be the perfect distraction from his inability to write. “We can bring a few guitars up, or go down…”

Griffin stood abruptly. “I’d be happy to get the guitars.”

Chris smiled a bit at his enthusiasm. “Great. Follow the stairs to the basement. Bring up whatever you like. If Don is down there in the studio, which he tends to be often, he can help.”

And Griffin jogged into the house.

“So.” Lita faced Chris, her small elbows on her knees. “Don’t bullshit me, Chris. Please.”

He swallowed. Hard. “My brain… After rehab… Struggling a bit to get words down.”

“The songs I heard were… They were amazing.”

“They were something I did with help,” he admitted.
Corinne’s help.
“Not how I wanted this album to go, but a necessity.”

“Tour is set.” And at that second she looked like the young girl she was. Hopeful. Afraid. “Please please please don’t mess this up for me. I’m terrified about switching things up right now.”

And he could see that she was—from her wrinkled brow to the worry in her eyes to the slight frown on her face. The tour was bigger than him. About more than him. Other people counted on him being on his best game and being involved.

“I’ll get it together. I promise.” The words were more for himself than for her.

She shifted and glanced back toward the house. “You sure you up for playing today?”

He chuckled as Griffin stepped back on to the porch and Lita’s smile filled her face as she watched him. He’d never had that—not in the way they did.

“Today I’d be thrilled to play anything that’s not my own.”

“I’m about to play guitar with Christian Meyer.” Griffin laughed. “While we get ready to tour. My life is awesome.”

Chris and Lita chuckled with him as he sat, and Chris liked the kid even more for being honest. Hopefully they’d all blend together as well as they had the other day because trying to write underneath the watchful eye of Lita James was not going to help.

“We need to talk timelines, Chris,” Max said as he stepped onto t
he dimly lit porch. Once again uninvited, but welcome.

Chris didn’t move, or move his gaze from the ocean—he’d been there all day and was still considering sleeping on the porch instead of inside. “Lita was here today.” He took another drink of his tea. The stuff was supposed to help him sleep, but normally just made him have to pee half the night. He should probably stop drinking it before bed.

“I let her in.” Max paused. “I’m serious, Chris. They’re ready to finalize your tour dates, start hiring crew, and you have four completed tracks. Four. That’s not going to cut it. I’ve put them off for now, but it won’t work much longer. The only reason they’re moving forward without your whole album in hand is because I’ve told them we’re just putting final touches on background sounds and because you’ve delivered for them in the past. Over and over. And there’s Lita. That’s all we’re hanging on to right now.”

The
patience Max had held in for so long was waning.

“Yeah. I know.” Chris’ hands shook as he pulled the
tea to his lips. One drink. One. Would it help? Give him his life back? His ability to write? His fingers shook at the ache of need he was told would probably never completely go away. One phone call and he could be high. One. So much weight in such a small number.

“What do you need? What do I do at this point? If you’ve got nothing, Chris, fine. But I need to know so I’m not looking like an asshole out there trying to sell you to Carl at xLx Records.”

“Screw Carl.” Chris wasn’t in the mood. “I’d like to get Corinne back down for another weekend. Or at least get her info from you so she and I can talk.”

“Not happening.” Max shook his head. “You wrote a ton while she was here. What’s wrong with it?”

It wasn’t...right. Not yet. Chris set down his mug with shaking hands, his mouth drying out at the thought of lacing his tea with Daniels. “Why are you being such a dick about Corinne?”

Max took the lounge chair next to Chris and flopped his legs up, dress shoes and all. “Because I won’t let you break her heart, Chris. That’s why.”

Chris frowned and finally sat up to face his friend. “Why do you think I’m such a prick?”

“It’s not who you are, it’s
what
you are.” Max’s tanned face was set in determination. “I know your track record. I know hers. And I’m not discussing Corinne.”

Chris sighed. She’d left four weeks ago. The first week had been okay, but three weeks of not being able to write was slowly spiraling him back to a dark place. “I think I need out of town.”

Max broke away from Chris’ gaze to stare at the ocean. “Look. You’ve had a good run. A great one. Maybe the timing’s just not right. Maybe Lita should move forward without you.”

It was the last place Chris expected to get that advice, but he wasn’t ready to give in, not when what he’d wanted from the beginning was finally in front of him.

“I’m not saying forever. I don’t think you’d be the kind of guy either you or I would like if you weren’t moving forward with music, but maybe a longer break would be okay. There’s this kid in Oregon. I’ve listened to his stuff, and I think he’s worth considering. He wouldn’t take your place, but maybe to add him to the group so your set is shorter?”

“It’s good. I’ll get it together.” If he could just get far enough away to take a deep breath, he’d be okay. “A weekend. Week tops.”
In a lot of ways, Chris changing his sound and then touring with Lita was a safety net for both of them. He was determined not to let her down.

Max nodded, his demeanor changing slightly. “Let’s get you to Maui. Four Seasons or something. Sound good?
You have two weeks, Chris. We need to have that album done in two weeks, and we’re going to have to pay Don a shitload of money because we’ve just made his job ten times harder.”

Four Seasons on Maui sounded like a different version of what he lived every day, but at that point, any kind of different was better. “Perfect. Thanks.”

“I’ll call Miranda and have her set it up.” Max moved back toward the house. “See ya.”

Chris gave him a wave, and lay back on his chair on the porch. Something had to change.

FIVE

Corinne walked through the kitchen into the short hallway, stepped into Jonah’s room, and snuggled in bed next to him as he stammered through
Go, Dog, Go.
His twin bed just fit between the wooden walls.

“Auntie Corinne?” he asked as he leaned into her.

“Yeah?” She kissed his forehead, clinging to him hard.

“Can I read good enough to be in Kindergarten?”

She chuckled and gave him another squeeze. “Of course you do. I bet most kids don’t read at all.”

“Okay.” He bit his lip looking so much like his dad that her heart squeezed.

The worst part about Jonah’s dad walking away from the situation was that Corinne knew there was a part of him who would have been an amazing father—if he’d been able to set himself aside. Instead she’d cut off ties the second she left LA. She couldn’t take any more disappointment from one person. The only good thing that came out of her leaving was that no one but Jonah’s dad knew she was pregnant—one part of that mess had been spared from the tabloids.

“What if they say weird things about me?” Jonah asked.

Corinne pinched his cheek. “Who would say weird things about you?”

Jonah shrugged.

“Hey.” She poked his chest. “What matters is what
you
think of you. No one else. Got it?”

He pressed his tiny lips together to hold in his smile.

“And you have a lot of amazing things going for you.” Just being next to Jonah filled her heart in a way she couldn’t have even imagined before he came along.

“Okay,” Jonah said, his small chin jutted out in determination. The same suppressed smile she loved so much.

“Sleep good, and we’ll get to go to the school together in the morning, okay?”

He nodded.

“You okay?”

“I’m excited to be one of the big kids.”

“And you are.” And it had happened so fast. Her sister should have been there for his first day of school. She should have been around for a lot of things.

Corinne slipped out of his room and wandered into the living room when she heard a knock. The darkness was thick outside and she flipped on the porch light, in hopes that whoever stood there could be seen from the small side window.
No luck. Heather didn’t knock, she just came in. Nerves were followed quickly by fear.

She clutched her phone in her hand, knowing that the police would never get to her remote cabin soon enough for a call to do any good.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m being stupid. It’s fine. Someone’s just stopping by. I’m sure that happens.”
Just not to people with mile-long driveways...

She pulled open the door in one big tug and gasped when Christian Meyer stood there, shivering in a light jacket and t-shirt with a bag over his shoulder and a guitar case in his hand.

“I…” She glanced over her shoulder, almost like she expected someone to be holding up a ‘just kidding’ sign. “Wha…?”

“So.” Chris sighed as he rubbed his arms. “I get that this is weird. Can I come in and explain?”

“Um.” She rubbed her forehead unsure of how to register this new information. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. I’m…um…about to do tea,” she stammered. “Do you want tea?”

He did a few jerky movements before stepping around her and into the house. This was a nervous kind of Chris that she hadn’t seen before. And damn him for seeming vulnerable again. She pushed the door closed behind him, blocking the cold air but still feeling the chill in the small room.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… I don’t know.” That broken look again. He couldn’t do this to her. She was not going to fall for this again.

She leaned against the door, as if stepping into her house fully would make his presence more real. “I thought you wanted to explain.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck before shifting his duffel further up on his shoulder. “I was headed to Hawaii and then a flight was boarding to Seattle
and I was flying commercial and I didn’t have a checked bag, so I… I ended up here instead.”

“How did you know where I live?” Corinne
asked. He was here. He’d followed her. He was supposed to forget about her within a week. That was the plan. This wasn’t part of the plan.

“M
iranda doesn’t have the same loyalty to you as Max does.” His head and shoulders fell a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t…”

The confusion on his face and the uncertainty in his features was enough to soften her. “Put your bag down. Put the guitar down. Take a seat.”

She stepped around the back of the old, leather couch, opened the wood stove and shoved a few more logs on the fire with weak arms. Her heart pounded and that
wanting
feeling settled into her stomach next to a frantic ball of nerves. Seeing Chris should not have affected her so much. He was just a guy. Someone she barely knew.

“Thanks… You live way off the beaten path,” he commented.

She faced him just briefly, and it was as if someone had ripped his best rock star self out of the pages of Rolling Stone and plopped him on the couch. Expertly worn leather jacket, a white t-shirt that probably cost more than her outfit, and jeans she was sure were more than her monthly car payment.
Why was he here?

“I like being off the beaten path. Keeps people away.” She tried to tease, but they both knew she was only half teasing so it fell a bit flat.

They stared, both guarded in posture while Corinne watched him for any sign as to why he’d sought her out. Why now. Why to her
home
?

“I lost it. Right after you left.” He swallowed but kept eye contact. “I couldn’t write.
Trying to stay sober… I’ve been walking right on this edge, and I…”

She walked back around her couch and into the small kitchen that rested under the loft. “Oh.” But his words snaked into her because she’d been down this road with another rock star a few years Chris’ senior. Jonah’s father.

“This isn’t fair to you.” He stood. “I shouldn’t have come.”

No, you shouldn’t have
, is what she wanted to say, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Sit or you’ll miss tea. Chai tea tonight, and I buy the good stuff.”

His brows pulled together again. Perfect stubble patterned over his strong jaw. Why couldn’t he be one of the odd-looking musicians? There were lots of those.
Why
?

“Corinne, I really… I…”

“Shhh.” She held her hand out between them, but instead of looking at him and letting her mind wander, she continued with her task of filling up the teapot and setting it on the stove, glad that the counter separated them while she wrapped her head around the fact that
Christian Meyer was in her living room
. “I’ve written songs with you. You’re here for tea. It’s fine.”

“Okay then.”

She heard the couch creak under his weight and had to force herself from staring again at the gorgeous man in her house.

“Wow. You are a catalog marker, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

“Oh. Those are Heather’s.”

Corinne’s stomach dropped. Crap. No way Heather didn’t notice a car come up her driveway. She’d be here any second to check. Corinne scrambled to find her phone to tell Heather all was well. She wasn’t ready to try to explain Chris’ presence, though she didn’t understand it herself.  But a quick knock at the door, followed by the door opening, told Corinne she was too late. Her stomach dropped again. Corinne spun in the kitchen just in time to see Heather’s smile.

“Hey!” Heather said brightly. “I just wanted to check and see…” Her voice faded at about the same moment her eyes landed on Christian Meyer over the back of the couch.

Corinne gripped the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles whitened. “Heather. This is Chris. He came up...unexpectedly...for...um...business...songwriting stuff…” Corinne knew it was pathetic. She also knew that Heather would see right through her attempts to sound normal.

At the same time, maybe Heather wasn’t paying attention to her at all. Heather’s smile was the biggest Corinne had ever seen as she stepped forward, reaching out her hand to shake Chris’.

“Oh. Hi.” Chris turned on the couch and then stood and walked around the back.

“Oh.” Heather gestured him closer to her. “You’re a friend of Corinne’s. We should meet in a hug.”

Heather gave Corinne a comically wide-grin before she turned back to Chris.

For the first time since Chris arrived, Corinne saw the humor in the situation. Uber famous rock star in a tiny town in Washington with an obsessed fan of a neighbor about to feel his ass when she got her hug.

And just like Corinne predicted, Heather’s hands made it just a hair below the waist of his jeans.

“I’d love to say Corinne told me all about you.” He stood back. “But we tried...to uh...keep it all…” He glanced over his shoulder at her as if she’d somehow know what he was trying to say and be able to help him. “...all, uh...professional.”

Heather snorted in her lame attempt to hold in a laugh. “
Professional
. Okay then. So…is it tea time?” she asked with the same goofy grin.

Corinne closed her eyes, knowing her friend would catch the hint.

“Maybe another night…” Heather shifted her weight back to Chris. “You know… If you’re around in the next few days.”

“I’d like that.” He ducked his head in a modest sort of nod and shoved his unruly hair back off his face.

Heather paused as she held the door. “Christian Meyer,” she breathed.

He flashed his true famous-guy smile. The kind made to weaken knees. “Great to meet you, Heather.”

“Great.” She swallowed and nodded a few more times. “To meet you, too.”

She gave Corinne one last excited squealy-girl look before backing out the door.

“Good friend of yours?” he asked turning around.

“The best.”

Jonah’s door opened, and unbelievably, Corinne’s stomach dropped
again
. This was going to come as a surprise...

There was no denying he felt like an idiot showing up at Corinne’s house. He felt pathetic enough that he didn’t say anything about how weird it was. How desperate he was for help. And now this.

This kid who...looked to have none of Corinne’s dark features, rubbing his eyes in striped pajamas.

“Auntie Corinne?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

Chris hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the word “auntie” came out. It shouldn’t matter if she had a kid or not. But ‘auntie’ made him feel like he was slightly less left out of her life.

The boy’s bedroom opened into the back of the kitchen and it was another reminder of how tiny her house was. It looked like a small log cabin from the driveway, well...and from the inside, too. The only thing that helped it be less claustrophobic was the tall A-Frame ceiling. But there seemed to be a bathroom and bedroom door behind the kitchen. Small, but efficient.

There was a
narrow living room with mismatched leather furniture, a kitchen tucked under a tiny loft, and it was apparently a home that held a kid.

“Hey, Jonah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. My friend came up from California. We’ll try to be more quiet, okay?”

Jonah nodded.

She pulled him into a tight hug, and the kid turned back into his room.

“Auntie, huh?” Chris asked his mind still spinning.

Corinne’s expression was pained. “His mom was… This falls under the things I don’t talk about.”

He wondered if coming up had pushed them even farther apart than she’d tried to keep him in California...well, aside from the sex… His eyes floated over her body briefly before his mind caught back up to their conversation.

“Can we not be friends?” Chris asked.

“I have a bad track record,” Corinne answered and their eyes locked.

What did that mean? Was she seriously telling him she didn’t even want a
friend
? He lost his breath and he could feel the twitching start in his fingertips.

The teapot whistled. She jumped. Chris jumped. He shouldn’t have come. His gaze floated toward the door, but he’d come so far. He wasn’t ready to leave.

Chris sat down and began scanning the photos on the wall in silence. A woman who looked similar to Corinne posed on the grass with a much younger version of the boy he’d just seen. She stood with a man who was almost definitely her husband. A few of the kid at various ages. One of Corinne with her probably-sister. A picture of Corinne’s arms around a clean cut guy in a police uniform, and he wondered just how much he might have screwed up by sleeping with her. Were they together?

When she sat, she sat in the middle of the couch instead of at the end furthest from him and immediately pulled her knees to her chest, handing him his tea, and clutching hers on her knees.

“Are you okay?” He fingered the pottery mug.

Her dark eyes settled on him, framed by thick lashes and the wild curly hair he’d buried his face in, brushed off her neck, her back…