Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (25 page)

"Why did you hide your illness?" My voice is sharp in defense.

Her body tenses, just a bit, before a heavy sigh leaves her.

"I already explained this to you," she says, her voice quiet, tired.

"Because you're selfish." Even I hear the spoiled child in my tone.

"If that's how you see it, then fine, I'm selfish. I found out I have breast cancer. The doctors ran through the tests, treatments, possible outcomes, and all the variables surrounding
my life
."

"You're a part of my life, too." Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision.

"I'm sorry it hurt you. That was never my intention." She takes a deep breath, capturing my hand with both of hers. "Jackson, my treatment and surgery will take so much from me. I know it's hard for you to understand, but, as a woman, to have my breasts taken because of this…" She sniffs, and I squeeze her hand. "No matter the choice I made, it is life altering, but the decision I've made now feels like a loss of my femininity, my identity."

She pauses once more, taking stuttering breaths.

"The mastectomy will remove a part of my body, but it's also a part that defines me as a woman. The chemo will ravage the inside of my body, including the parts that make me a woman. Obviously, I wasn't planning on more children and my body already started the process of taking away that possibility, but for it to be taken like this…" she hiccups. "This feels cruel and unfair. I needed to take my diagnosis on without sympathy and fear from others. I hope you can someday understand, but even if you don't, Jackson, I wouldn't change my actions if I could."

The silence isn't uncomfortable. In fact, my thoughts are anything but silent. My mom is going through something I couldn't possibly understand—not completely. I would never know what it's like to be a woman or to have pieces of that stripped away so severely.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" Mom breaks the silence and my thoughts.

"I…" I try to think of an answer. First, one that will satisfy her. Second, the truthful one. All I can come up with is: "It hurt too much. I needed to escape."

She sighs heavily.

"Relationships end. It's not a reason to do this." Her hand slips into mine and grips tight. "You're too smart for this."

Tears flow over both our cheeks.

"It got out of hand," I choke out.

"I know, baby."

She moves from the chair to the bed and embraces me like she did when I was young, her arms tightening around my shoulders.

"I've fucked up."

"Language," she scolds quietly.

"You sure as hell did," Christopher says, announcing his presence.

Mom releases me and sits back, staying next to me, her hand back in mine.

"Go ahead, Chris, get your
I told you so
out of the way." I drop my head back against the wall above the headboard. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and wait.

"Are you done with this shit?" His simple question brings my head up and our eyes meet.

He stands at the foot of the bed, arms over his chest, and a serious expression on his face.

"What shit?" I sneer.

My mother tenses, in part from our cursing and because she knows how we fight.

"Don't give me your fucking attitude. I'm not the asshole who almost killed himself because he needed to get high. I'm not the asshole who scared off the one woman who is probably truly it for him."

Clenching my jaw, I glare at him.

"You don't know a fucking thing about Liza and—”

"I know." He cuts me off with two words, retrieving my worn, folded up notebook from his back pocket. He throws it on the bed. "I fucking know, Jackson."

"Stop going through my shit," I sneer.

"Then start talking to me," Chris demands. "You haven't written like this since…Christ, Jackson, I've never seen you write like this." He points to the notebook.

"We don't talk," I scoff.

"That's bullshit and you know it!" He rounds the bed, standing on my right. "We don't chat over tea and fucking cookies, but our music is our conversation. You and me in the studio, that's our talking."

Dropping my head, I focus on the fibers in the blanket covering my lap.

He's right.

"You haven't really been in there with me for over a year. Even before you and Laney split."

I close my eyes and bite my tongue in an attempt to stop the sob wanting free.

"So, are you done with this shit?" The plea in his question surprises me.

Looking up, I see the watery glaze of his eyes.

"Yeah," I respond, feeling my mom squeeze my hand.

Christopher's shoulders relax.

"The drugs?" he pushes.

"Done," I whisper.

"You'll get help," my mother interjects, and I nod.

"We talk?" Chris continues.

"Yeah." My eyes meet his.

Chris gives a hard nod.

"Good." He inhales deep before releasing the large puff of breath. "Now, we've got to talk about Kristy."

My eyes narrow. "Is she here?"

"She was, but after the girls, and Liza," he gives a pointed look, "got ahold of her, she left making a lot of threats."

"I'll take care of Kristy." Una steps into the room. "She won't be posting or talking about Jackson anytime soon."

"Are you sure about that?" Chris turns the pointed look on her.

"Christopher, can I just tell you how much your confidence in me over the past couple years makes me feel warm and fuzzy?" Una tilts her head.

Mom muffles a quiet snort.

"It should," Chris states, turning back to me. "I'll be sitting in for you at Hidden Talent."

"What?" I furrow my brow.

"You are going straight into rehab. You will need at least a week to detox," Una informs me.

"I have things to take care of," I protest.

"You need to give her time." Laney's voice is the last thing I want to hear.

"Great, Laney, you really think you're the best person to come in here?" Chris snaps.

"Christopher," Mom warns.

She releases my hand, slips from the bed, and walks toward the door.

"I believe these two need to talk." Mom takes Chris' arm.

"No, we don't," I state, causing everyone to look at me.

"Jackson—”

I stop Laney before she can say anything else.

"There isn't anything left to say." I shrug.

"Come on." Mom pulls Chris out of the room and Una follows them, closing the door behind her.

Dropping my head back against the wall, I close my eyes and sigh.

"I'm so sorry," she says, her emotions already affecting her speech.

"Don't, Laney."

"I didn't know it would become this." A sob escapes her. "It's my fault and I'm so sorry."

Sorry is just a word.
Liza's words come back to me.
Liza. She's the one I want here with me. I need to make her see how sorry I am, but ‘sorry’ is just a word.

Epiphanies happen and this time, it feels like a slap to the forehead with a brick. I need to fix my shit and show her she means more than I ever planned.

Laney's sobbing pulls my attention back to her.

"Laney, stop crying."

She hiccups, wiping her face and watching me.

"This isn't your fault." I shake my head. "Yeah, you broke us, but you aren't responsible for breaking me."

Her eyes widen.

"I made my choices. Even before we split, I thought everything was perfect. Chris had a baby and got engaged. Elliott is fucking married, adopted Ryan, and has a baby on the way. Fuck, even Jimmy got married. I thought it was next for us, but I didn't take the time to think about what was
right
for us."

Laney sits in the chair my mom previously occupied.

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispers.

"I know." I nod. "But you did."

"I know," she mimics.

"And it's okay."

Our eyes meet. Hers are unsure and apprehensive.

"I never would've found Liza if you hadn't." I smile.

The worry lines melt from Laney's face.

"She's the one, huh?" Her question is a mix of happiness for me and sorrow for what we lost.

"Yeah, she is." I grin wide.

"Well, she has Kat's approval after the way she handled Kristy." Laney laughs, wiping tears from her face.

"I think I need to hear more about this." I reach a hand out to her.

She leans forward and takes it, careful not to touch the IV.

"Then, dude, sit back and let me tell you about the catfight you missed." Elliott pushes through the door, striding right to the bed and plopping on the end.

Slowly, Serena waddles in, with the rest of the group in tow. My chest warms, surrounded by my family. There's only one thing missing.

Liza.

Liza

Without Julia arranging my ride back to the apartment, I don't know how I would've managed. Having left my cell phone, bag, and shoes behind, I don't think any taxi driver would've let me in their car without verification of funds.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on my own apartment door. It flings open and Sid stands in her black,
I Make Boys Cry
t-shirt and cotton capris.

Our eyes meet and my chin wobbles.

"Come here," she orders without giving me time to move. She reaches out, pulling me into her arms. We stand, embracing, for a few very long moments. It feels nice, but not as great as it usually does.

"You okay?" she asks in a whisper.

I begin to nod, but realizing the lie, I shake my head and bury my face in her shoulder.

One hand rubs my back while the other releases me to close the open door before guiding me to the fold-out bed. She sits us on the edge and I lay my head on hers.

"Is he okay?"

"I think so." My voice is low, matching hers.

"What do you need me to do?" she asks. I lift my head, looking at her in confusion.

"There isn't anything to be done." I shrug. "He's got some serious problems to handle." Sniffing, I rub my tingling nose.

"You're right. He does," she agrees, letting her arm fall away. "And you can't fix his problems either."

"I didn't say I could." Defensiveness sharpens my words.

"But you're thinking it." She raises her brows and continues before I can say anything else. "I know you. You're a fixer. You've been trying to fix my shit for years, but each person has things no one else can fix."

I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and open my mouth, but close it, knowing she's right. I've spent years trying to make Sid realize she's better than she treats herself. She's better than her hump-him and dump-him one-nighters, a habit she's created to avoid being hurt again.

"No one could tell you what to do when you had your mind set to move out here with a toddler. You can't make him straighten his shit out. No matter how much you want him to."

I let my shoulders sag. I've gotten too attached.

"I know," I say weakly, my voice having lost its edge.

"He's lost, Liza."

My eyes meet Sid's once more.

"He's famous, known, and…Christ, the size of him alone makes him hard to miss, but…"

"But what?" My throat tightens and my eyes burn with unshed tears.

"He's lost himself in the sea of celebrities, drugs, alcohol, and fame. It's up to him to find himself and get his shit together." Reaching out, she takes my face between her hands. "You can't fix him."

I nod and she releases my face.

"Okay?"

With a deep breath, I nod in agreement.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say the words," Sid presses.