As promised, by the time Joslyn and I sneak out the back exit of the store, Daniel is there waiting for us behind the wheel of my car.
Daniel drives us back to my condo, parking in my designated parking spot and leaving in his own vehicle shortly after, leaving Joslyn and I alone. We trudge up to my condo where I immediately flop down on my couch, loosening my tie, exhausted both mentally and physically. I try to relax, my muscles strung tight from stress induced tension.
Joslyn shrugs off her coat at the door and walks over to the kitchen, draping it over the back of one of the bar stools. She then walks over to the refrigerator, grabbing two bottles of water before opening some of the cabinets, finding a bottle of Tylenol. Juggling everything, she walks over to the couch, offering me both a bottle of water and the Tylenol.
"Thanks." I shake out two pills and pop them in my mouth, chasing them down with some water, wishing it would burn my throat and course through my veins. But those days are behind me. From the moment I found my dad... I promised myself I wouldn't end up like him. Then again, I made that promise to myself before when his drinking and drug usage first started years ago, and look how that turned out.
I turn to look at Joslyn sitting on the opposite end of the couch, staring blankly at the water bottle in her hands that's resting on her lap. As if feeling my stare, her head lifts up and her eyes meet mine. It's a silent exchange, neither one of us saying a word, but somehow I feel like we're saying everything.
Leaning over, I place my hand on her wrist, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand. I'm still not entirely sure what to say, but I don't think words are even necessary at this point, actions speaking louder than any verbal exchange.
"I'm going to go get out of these clothes," I inform her, giving her wrist a small squeeze before standing up, and she nods.
I walk down the hall to my bedroom, going straight to my closet. I strip off my suit and throw on a t-shirt with some sweat pants. Once I'm changed, I walk over to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. Looking up into the mirror, I stare at a man I don't recognize. A man I haven't recognized for a long time.
Letting out a shaky breath, I lean over the sink, planting my elbows on the counter top, folding my arms back to try to massage some of the stress knots out of my shoulders. The last 72 hours have been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster. And even now, when it feels like the battle is over, I know the trauma is something I'll have to live with forever.
Composing myself, I walk back out to the living room, finding Joslyn in the same position, blankly staring at the unopened water bottle gripped between her hands. I crouch down in front of her, placing a hand on her knee to gain her attention. "Do you want to go get changed?"
As if in a daze, she nods, standing and walking down the hall to my room. I stand up and take her spot on the couch, rubbing my hands over my face, feeling guilty. I put her through hell today, and why she put up with it—why she even came here in the first place—is still a mystery to me.
Reclining back into the couch, I rest my head over the top, lacing my hands behind my head, using my thumbs to massage the area between my neck and shoulders.
It's about ten minutes until I hear the soft patter of sock covered feet walk down the hallway, and I look up to see Joslyn dressed in a hoodie and sweat pants. Her bun is pulled out, her long dark hair brushed and thrown into a low, casual ponytail, and her face is bare, the light makeup she applied this morning washed away.
She walks past me to sit on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her legs under her and leaning onto the armrest. Her hands are formed into fists on her lap, and I can tell she's fight the urge to anxiously fidget with her fingers.
Unable to restrain myself, I crawl over to her, resting my head on her lap and lying down on my side across the couch. Almost instantly, she plunges her fingers into my hair and I let out a sigh of content, feeling the most relaxed I have all day. Her hand goes down to my neck, her thumb and pointer finger massaging there, and I nearly groan at how good it feels.
She works on my neck for a while until I roll over onto my back to look up at her. She looks back at me with soft eyes, brushing some curls that toppled over my forehead back. I feel a sense of déjà vu wash over me. The first time I kissed her we were in this exact position, back at my old condo not too far from here. I remember my heart racing a hundred miles a minute when I found the courage to finally grab the back of her head and lean up to place my lips on hers. It was one of the best feelings of my life.
Suddenly I have the urge to reach up and snake my hand around the back of her neck, to pull her down and meet her lips halfway with mine. To feel her soft, delicate lips brush against mine again after all these years.
But I know right now that would be wildly inappropriate, and something that can't happen. Especially now, or possibly ever.
I've come to realize that Joslyn is like a favorite pair of jeans—she's familiar and comfortable, we've been through a lot together, but our relationship is worn with too many fraying holes that may be beyond repair.
Over the years, I've learned that love is the most destructive emotion known to mankind. Having your heart ripped out is one of the most brutal things you can ever experience. And with Joslyn... I can't... I can't go through that pain again.
I love Joslyn, I always have. Even when I wanted to hate her to my core, I could only find it in myself to hate what she did to me more. No matter how much I wanted to hate her, forget about her, I couldn't. And that's why I can't act on my feelings. I'm afraid if I try to go down that path again I'll either get rejected or hurt all over.
But Joslyn is the only one who really sees me. She sees the good, the bad, and the ugly, but still chooses to stick by me when I need her most, which is why the fact that she left years ago is unbelievable.
Maybe Chris really did—
"Alex," Joslyn says my name, bringing me out of my thoughts. She brushes her thumb over the space between my brows, trying to smooth out the knot there I didn't realize was forming.
I look into her hazel eyes, my eyes instinctively wandering down to her soft pink lips. Heart racing, I reach up to cup her cheek in my hand, thumb stroking.
A flash of realization—the memory of our first kiss—sparks in her eyes, and I hear her breathing hitch. Her hand comes up to capture my wrist, but she doesn't push or pull me away. Her hand just rests there as she anticipates my next move.
Before I can do anything, a loud knock echoes through my condo, causing both of our eyes to fly over to the front door. Joslyn's brow furrows, and she looks to me questioningly, silently asking if she should answer the door or not.
I sigh, shaking my head.
Reluctantly, I get up from the couch, walking over to the door. My stomach churns with uneasiness, fearing that my mother, or Chris, or even worse; both may be behind it. I should have known better. I should have just run for the hills the second I caught them together.
Placing my hand on the door, I make sure to look through the peep hole before answering. I find Addison standing outside the door, and I feel my worry slightly subside. Slightly.
Unlocking the deadbolt, I open the door to Addison who stands looking displeased. She's still in her dress and heels, her arms crossed as she rests her weight on one hip.
"Alex," she prompts, impatiently waiting for me to say something, but I can't find it in me to say anything. "So what? You ditch me at your own father's funeral and can't say anything to me?" she fumes. "After I stuck by your side all day, you just run off with..."
Addison's glare swings over my shoulder, looking around my condo. She places her hand on my chest, pushing her way inside.
"Addison," I say, tired.
Her eyes narrow into slits when she spots Joslyn on my couch, and I can practically see steam coming from her ears. "Really, Alex? Really?"
Joslyn stands from the couch, nervously wringing her hands together. "I should... I should go."
"No. Stay," I instruct, causing Addison's eyes to form into slits, her jaw tensing.
"Seriously? Out of all people, you choose to be with her right now?" Addison fights, looking disgusted. I know she has every right to be pissed, and that I probably owe her some sort of apology, but I can't find it in myself to care. All I feel is numb, all my emotions drained after the past couple of days. "After all she's done?" she continues in an accusatory tone that strikes a nerve in me.
"What do you mean after all she's done?" I ask, getting defensive. I know she doesn't quite understand Joslyn and I's dynamic, but Joslyn has been nothing but supportive these past few days—not that Addison knows that.
Addison lets out a huffed laugh. "Have you not heard?"
"Heard?" I say.
She lets out another low sound of reluctant amusement. "It's all over the news."
"If you haven't noticed, I haven't really had time to keep up with the news lately," I snap, growing impatient with her games while simultaneously feeling my heartrate pick up, knowing noting good ever seems to come from the news.
Without a word, Addison digs into her purse, fishing out her phone, and types away at the screen. When she's satisfied, she turns her screen to me, showing me the headline of some article.
My heart immediately drops, and I reach out for her phone with shaky hands. The title of the article reads "Mike Walker's Mistress Shows Up To His Funeral" and shows multiple photos of Joslyn and I today at the funeral, as well as old photos of Joslyn with my father. The older photos are from my concerts where they were near each other at the sound board, my twenty-first birthday, my album release party, and award shows.
My throat automatically coats with acid as I skim over the article, reading about how Joslyn was there to try to comfort me and make amends with my family after losing the man she fell in love with via affair. But then the article takes a turn, saying that afterwards I threw her out, pictures of me looking angry and dragging her by the wrist attached. But those pictures where captured when I just found out about my mom and Chris, and now they're being misconstrued to fit their story.
I hear Joslyn let out a small gasp over my shoulder, and I turn to see her hand clasped over her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes as she stares at the article over my shoulder in horror.
I feel the phone being pried from my hands, Addison taking it back and placing it in her purse, looking validated. "Not exactly who you think she is, is she?"
My face pales and I feel my legs start to shake. Taking some steps back, I feel the kitchen countertop jut into my back, and my legs give way and I go sliding to the floor, feeling my world start to crash down on me all over again.
Just when I thought it was all over.
Feeling sick, I bring my knees up to my chest, resting my forehead on them while tugging at my hair.
"Call me when you come to your senses," Addison says, her heels clicking against the hardwood until the door closes behind her.
"Alex," Joslyn says my name firmly, but I hear the fear and uncertainty behind her tone. "You know none of that it true."
I grip my hair tighter, tugging to feel some sort of physical pain.
The walls are closing in, and I feel like I'm just taking one blow after another. Just when I seem to get my footing, something else always comes along to throw me down the cliff again. And I can't take it anymore. I wish there was something—anything—I can do or take to make it all stop.
"Alex," Joslyn says my name again, her voice wavering. I hear her drop to her knees in front of me and she grabs my wrists, pleading.
I let out a shaky breath. "I know. I know. I just wish it would all stop," I admit.
Of course I know nothing has ever happened between Joslyn and my father, but an article like that going out to the press just puts me over the edge. I'm already fragile with the betrayal of my mother and Chris, and this is just another surprise sucker punch straight to the gut—even though I know it's not true. But to an outsider, the article is compelling with all the secret photos of them together as hard evidence, but it's still disgusting to publish something like that at the expense of a dead man.
Joslyn's grip loosens on my arms and I look up to see her face crumpled, her bottom lip trembling as tears fall from her eyes. Its then I realize it's her name being publicly dragged through the mud. All because of me.
Joslyn isn't a fan of the spotlight. She never wanted any part of it despite having a famous brother and friends, and once having me as her boyfriend. And even though she's always wanted to work in the industry, she never once wanted any part of the fame, doing everything she could to stay hidden behind the scenes.
Seeing the fear in her eyes, I reach out to grab her waist, pulling her to me between my legs on the floor. She instantly throws her arms around my neck, crying into my shoulder, and I feel my heart break watching the strong girl in front of me fall apart.
I hug her tightly to me. "Let's get out of here. We need to get out of here."