The Redemption (19 page)

I’m shaking my head, my hands starting to follow suit. My breathing quickens, shallowing when all I want is to take a deep one.

Dex steps forward. “Janice, I know you don’t like me, but my feelings for Rochelle are genuine.” He enters my house with his hands up in surrender.

She continues to shout, the anguish she’s feeling heard. “I don’t care about your feelings. I care about my son!”

Dex still approaches her slowly. “I loved Cory like a brother—”

“Don’t you dare insert your despicable self into my family like that when you have done nothing but cause the band trouble! Cory was always there cleaning up your mess of a life and this is how you repay him?”

Her anger and Cory being dragged into this stabs my heart. My thoughts start to twist, so I reach for the nearest wall for balance. With my palm flat against the sheetrock, I close my eyes, but hear Dex say, “I’m not the same person I was before, Janice. You only know what you read and that’s not the truth anymore. Believe me. Our kiss was innocent, but sincere.”

My world is spinning—guilt, anger, sympathy, Dex, Cory, Janice, the kids as she yells, “I saw the posts with you and Rochelle kissing in public like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t care about anyone but yourselves or how this would make me or the boys feel. So much damage was done with your ‘innocent’ kiss.”

I collapse to my knees on the cold tile, my hands falling forward as my mind begins to blur.

A steady beat infiltrates my dreams. I fight the awareness that brings me from the darkness to a more lucid state, the sound louder.
Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyelids flutter open at the sound of the machine next to me. The soft light above feels too bright until my eyes slowly adjust. Janice is there, her hand on mine. “Rochelle. Dear.”

The last moments before I blacked out come rushing back to me. The beeping picks up as my heart does. “Dex.” I cough to clear my throat. “Where is he?”

Her hand leaves mine. “Rochelle, you shouldn’t be thinking of him. There are photographers outside the hospital, waiting for you to comment on this ‘story.’ It’s time to end this crazy behavior. You need to think of your children.”

“What story?” I start to sit up.

“That’s why I came over this morning. There are pictures of you and Dex kissing outside a hotel.”

“No.”

“Yes, there are. And do you know how much that hurt to see? My son has not been gone that long and here you are gallivanting around LA at seedy motels like he never existed.” A tear falls down her cheek.

My body aches, but my mind is stronger. “Janice, I can’t believe you think that. You know I loved Cory.”

“Loved? Past tense? Well, I still love him, present tense, and always will.”

My hand goes to my head as it starts to throb. “You’re twisting my words.”

She steps back, appalled. “Your actions are twisting your reality. You have small children to raise. If you prefer to sleep with a drug-addict playboy, then do so, but I won’t sit by and let my grandchildren bear witness to it.” She walks out, her heels clicking loudly down the corridor.

There’s a pang in my chest, the pain of her words hit me hard. Maybe she’s right. I’m being selfish right now.
What am I doing? Choosing to do what I want seems in complete opposite of what I should do for the boys, or does it? Has Dex changed? I mean really changed?

A nurse walks in and asks, “Ms. Floros, I’m Anne. Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m thinking I had a panic attack, but this one felt more like a heart-attack.”

She leans against the foot of the bed. “I see you’ve taken medicine for them before. The doctor has already called in a new prescription for you.” With her clipboard down at her side, she asks, “Do you know what might have brought this one on? It was severe enough for your loved ones to bring you to the hospital.”

“People were fighting…”

With a small nod of understanding, she asks, “Are there ways to eliminate some of that stress?”

I gulp, then reach for the water pitcher. She comes around and pours a glass for me. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t realize… I’ll give it some thought.”

“Take this seriously, Ms. Floros, and consider ways to reduce stress and conflicts. Those are some common triggers for panic attacks. Make sure to eat healthy and to exercise regularly.” She removes the IV. “Exercise can help reduce the toll that emotional stress can cause. I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

“Does that mean I’m free to go?”

Swabbing the area, she covers it with a small white bandage. “You are. You just need to sign a few forms at the desk first. Your ride is waiting for you at the nurse’s station.”

Wondering who’s waiting for me, I look up and ask, “Who’s my ride?”

She looks down at her clipboard. “Dex Caggiano.”

It’s LA, so the hospital has a private back drive for these types of media situations. I’m thankful for that. We sneak out that way. The dark tinting of his black Bronco keeps the paps on the street from getting any photos worth using when we pass.

We don’t speak until the coast seems clear, then begin to relax though an awkwardness stretches between us that’s never existed before. Pushing through, thinking about what the nurse said, I start, “Dex, we should talk before we get to my house.”

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding resolved. “You might have more paps there, so I shouldn’t stay.”

“I mean, we need to talk about today, the panic attack. Janice. This. Us.”

His hesitation is heard when he replies, “Okay.”

“I can’t hurt her like that. She’s been there for me since Cory’s death. I was there for her. It wasn’t easy, but she was the only one who seemed to truly get how I felt. She’s wonderful to my kids and loves them. I’ve never seen her like she was this morning. She was distraught and
I
did that to her. I hurt her like that by betraying her.”

“You didn’t betray her by kissing me. She wants you to keep playing the role you’ve played for years—the widow, but you’re more than that, Rochelle. You’re a woman, a mother, a musician, a business manager. You are more than a one-dimensional person. She needs to recognize that. It’s not just about her.”

“I need to focus on my kids, Dex. They don’t have a father. I have to be both mom and dad for them, and lately, I feel like I’m failing.”

“Us dating—”

“I hadn’t had a panic attack in years and now I’ve basically had two in the last two days. Both times were with you. Do you find that coincidental? Because I don’t.”

He pulls over to the side of a street that leads to mine. “You’re building this up in your head like you being happy goes against feeling bad that Cory died. They aren’t related.”

“Janice—”

“Janice is turning what we shared into something bad. You’re letting her into your head.” He takes my hand, holding it as if it might be the last time—firm grip, thumb trying to soothe.

I pull my hand away slowly, leaving all the feelings we were developing behind in the palm of his hand. “The timing is wrong.”

“Bullshit!”

Startled, I jump in my seat.

Lowering his voice, he says, “That’s a cop out. I know you feel something for me. I see how you react because I also feel it when I’m around you. There’s something here and you’re just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared to have a life without Cory and thinking you have to justify it to others. The problem with that is when you start justifying it, it will make you feel like your love for Cory was less. It wasn’t. It’s just different. He’s not here, Rochelle.”

“Stop it. Stop talking about Cory and take me home.”

“Now you want to stop talking about him?” He looks surprised. “I can’t win with you when it comes to him.” He shifts the car into drive.

“This is not a competition, Dex.”

Disappointment slides onto his face. “Then why is he being shoved in my face every time we make a move?”

“This is one of the reasons why we won’t work. We see things very differently.”

“One of the reasons? Name another because from where I sit, we fit like two puzzle pieces clicking together.”

“You’re a
supposed
recovering addict. You have sex with anyone who offers. You—”

“That’s it. Right there. You play like you know who I am, but you don’t. That’s why the lies are so easily believed. I can tell what you’re doing. You’re giving me an out that I don’t want. You’re allowing yourself to believe the worst about me to ease your conscience, but it won’t—”

“You know what. Not everything is about you and your past. You lost a band mate and friend, but I lost my soulmate!”

My breath chokes in my throat after I say the one thing that would hurt him most. His eyes die inside as he stares at me. As usual, I’m the one who needs to make him feel better about everything. But I can’t this time. I’m too tired to help anyone else right now. “I was the one left in the wake of this tragedy to pick up the pieces for everyone around me, and pretend that everything is all right so they can go about their days not worrying about me.” I shift in my seat, taking a breath, then hit my hands against my thighs as I yell, “Everything is not all right!
I
am not all right!”

I see the street in front of my house is clear.
Thank God!
But right when Dex pulls up in front of the locked gate, a car parks right in front of us with a long lens aimed in our direction, so I react by ducking down. “Oh my God! That’s exactly why we can’t do this. They don’t want me. They just want your latest conquest. Well, guess what? That’s one role I don’t want to play. I have to think about two little boys and protect their future.”

“Protect their future from me? Protect them from me? You’re twisting this. I care about those boys. I love them. I would never hurt them!” Throwing the SUV in reverse, he backs up around the corner, then turns, heading in the opposite direction from the paparazzi. “I can protect you from them. You just won’t try. You’re protecting your heart so hard that you’re losing the ability to feel anything except numb.”

Unfortunately, they’re right behind us when I peek up and over the back of the seat. My head hurts, my heart is racing, and my eyes have filled with tears. “This is the stress I can’t have in my life. I can’t have you, Dex. I’m sorry. We can’t happen. It’s not good for me.
You’re
not good for me. We’re not good for each other.”

He struggles to keep his tone steady, but I hear the shake in it. “Don’t make rash decisions, Rochelle. You just got released from the hospital. You’re tired. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing, but
we’re
something. We matter.”

I grab either side of my head while shaking it. “Stop saying that. We don’t. I can’t think of only myself and enjoy it while hurting others in the process. It doesn’t work like that.” I look up and add, “Just like now. Just like I’m hurting you. But it’s you or everyone else. That’s how I see it and the only options I have to choose from.”

He makes the block and then pulls up to my driveway and punches in the code. “Are you telling me that you don’t want to date me because it will upset others or because you don’t believe I’ve changed? Because you’ve said both, which makes me think you’re reaching for anything and hoping it sticks.” The gate closes behind him and he parks.