Blurring the Lines (4 page)

FOUR

Corinne stood on her parents’ porch of their very large, very preened home near downtown Seattle. Ever since leaving at seventeen, she’d felt like a visitor—even though she’d grown up there.

“Oh, good.
You didn’t lose your ticket.” Her mother answered the door in slacks and a pale blouse. “You made it back.”

Irritation
tensed her to her bones, but she plastered on a smile. “They don’t give out tickets anymore, mother. There’s no such thing as losing your ticket. I’m assuming that’s what you meant.”

They both knew perfectly well that was not what her mother meant. When Corinne left at seventeen, her trip was supposed to last a week. It wasn’t that she’d
lost
her return ticket, it’s that she hadn’t
used
her return ticket.

“Auntie Corinne!” Jonah sped down the stairs and threw himself in her arms.

This
.

She breathed in the kid smell of him and hugged his small body tightly to hers. This right here was the guiding force in her life. Nothing else. Jonah was all she needed to
remind her that she’d worked really hard to get her life on a good track. Christian Meyer was a terrible idea. LA was a terrible idea. Living the horror of her face on tabloids with Jonah? Never going to happen. She was home. She was safe again. “I’m so happy to see you! Did you have fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Yep.” He pulled back. “I got my bag packed and everything!”

“Okay.” Corinne leaned against the door jam. “We’re headed home then. I’m wiped.”

Her mom nodded, brushing her smoothed, dark hair over her shoulder. “He was fine. A good kid. All that work your sister put in.”

Even in a short sentence, Corinne felt the jab. Of course her sister had been better and more responsible in almost every way, but it didn’t need to be rubbed in—especially since her sister was gone.

“She was amazing,” Corinne conceded because there was no point in calling her mom out on anything. She’d only deny it, and they’d be in another awkward battle of words or wills or...something. And her sister
had
been fairly perfect in every way. She missed her daily.

“How’s Dad?” Corinne asked.

Her mother sighed. “In his office. Where else?”

Of course. Corinne’s father was an architect. He’d stooped low enough to design her small cabin, but he did commercial buildings, and Corinne often wondered if her mother would have been happier if he’d kept his office outside their home. He was there, but rarely available.

“Ready?” Corinne asked Jonah as he dragged his backpack down the stairs to the door.

Jonah grinned. “Let’s go home.”

Yes. Corinne was very ready for home. For peace. To be back in the small cabin that had been her sanctuary for close to five years.

Corinne
ran her hands over the smooth Corian countertop. “A must,” her dad had said as he built her small home. “Granite is boring.”

She hadn’t cared about boring. She’d just given birth to a baby that was being taken care of by her sister who was thrilled to have him. She’d left LA under fire from a paparazzi nightmare, and
years later, she still sometimes dreamed about the man who had so casually discarded her.

But the rest of the house? It was all her, and she breathed in the spices and distinct wood stove smell of her home—so diff
erent from the sleek Malibu palace she’d just left. This cabin smelled like safety and a life she was desperate to do right. A sharp twist of missing John, her fiancé, dug in. They’d shared her small house for a year before he died. One amazing year of warmth and comfort and perfection. Another reminder of how temporary life could be.

“They’re coming!” Jonah yelled from one of the many windows that took up the front wal
l of her A-Frame log cabin.

Corinne laughed. “Well, go on and meet them. We both know the rain’s going to start any day now and after that comes snow.”

“And today it’s
sunneee!”
He pushed through the door and she heard Heather yelp—probably having to do with Jonah nearly knocking her down the stairs on his way down to the driveway to play.

“Stay within sight and sound of the house!” Heather yelled
while still just out of sight.

Corinne dropped a tea bag in Heather’s mug and stepped out of the small kitchen that rested underneath the loft where her bedroom sat.

“I must know everything. How was it? How was
he
?” Heather grinned as she stepped inside, tossing her coat onto one of the many hooks that adorned the small expanse of wall between the door and the narrow stairs.

She stepped around the back of the worn, leather couch before flopping to sitting. Her dark brown bob was perfectly smoothed, and her clothes were perfectly layered and matched—a feat Corinne rarely attempted. Too much work. No one to impress.

“Oh, he was fine,” Corinne answered in a loose, relaxed voice, and Heather’s brows shot up in a ‘really?’ gesture.

Corinne chuckled as she darted back into the kitchen, grabbing her own mug. “Gimme a sec.”

She slid around the tiny table and onto one of the very few pieces of worn furniture crowded into her tiny living room. Holding her tea carefully, she sat on the opposite end of the couch from Heather so they could just see out the door and the windows along the front to keep an eye on the kids.

It was all standard. The tea. The
well-traveled path between their two homes. The questions. The kids. Shouts came from outside, and Corinne stared at the wood ceiling of her log cabin as she thought. Breathing in deeply it hit her again how calm her life in Washington was—the fresh pine air was a million times better than canned air conditioning or the smog air of LA. Though on the beach… That had been pretty great.

“You’re ki
lling me with the suspense here.” Heather chuckled as she clutched her mug.

Heather’s curiosity wasn’t surprising. The questions were bound to come. Corinne had crashed the night before, and they hadn’t really talked since she left three days ago.

Heather had all the dirty details of Corinne’s past. All of them. She knew Corinne wasn’t thrilled about going, and Corinne knew that Heather also hoped she’d let go and enjoyed herself a little. Corinne scratched her head a few times as she thought about what she’d tell her friend. Probably everything.

“It was good. I guess. I’m glad to be home.” Corinne blew on her tea. But Heather deserved more. She had saved Corinne’s sanity when her sister, her sister’s husband, and her fiancé had all been killed in a small plane accident two years ago. It still took her breath away to think about it.

“That’s not what I’m seeing all over your face....” Heather’s fine dark brows rose as she smirked. “And there’s no way I’m going to let you get away with that little information.”

“I know.” Corinne faintly smiled as she thought about what her two days
were
like.

“Oh…” Heather scooted sideways, her tidy brown bob shifting forward and across her face. “I recognize that look. Spill. Did you do the rule-breaking I begged you to do?”

Corinne’s cheeks flushed. Heather was the only one who knew everything about Corinne’s life, so sharing this should be no different. “I did.”

Hea
ther’s smile turned mischievous. “How naughty were you?”

Corinne blinked and every time her lids came together, she saw another flash of her night with Chris. And every time she saw a flash, she felt one too, sending quick rushes of heat through her body.

“Whoa.” Heather touched her arm. “Corinne?”

“One night.” She stared at her mug. “I told him one night.”

“Christian Meyer,” Heather clarified slowly, the grip on Corinne’s arm tightening. “One night with
Christian
freaking
Meyer
?”

Corinne nodded, the gravity of it pulling on her. Another broken rock
star. What a mess. But even as she thought it, she felt her mouth pull into a smile. Yes. As Heather had said,
Christian freaking Meyer.

“Only you. Seriously.” Heather looked at Corinne’s first disastrous affair with someone famous as an adventure into that world. Corinne still thought it was just a disaster. “Not one hot rock
star but
two
?” She laughed a fun, girlish laugh.

“But,” Corinne countered, “this time I took control and said just one night. I’m not getting trapped there again.”

Heather snorted with a grin. “Only you would say ‘trapped’ and
‘with Christian Meyer’
in the same thought.”

“Oh come on.” Corinne gestured outside to where their kids were playing. “I tried the relationship thing last time I was...there. We saw how that turned out.”

“Still…” Heather grinned. “For Christian Meyer, I think I’d risk it. I just… I can’t believe your life. I can’t believe you choose this”—Heather gestured to the tiny log cabin that Corinne shared with little Jonah—“over that.”

“It’s an easy choice when you’ve had both. And when you’ve been smeared by every avenue possible, attacked on the streets by photographers...” Corinne frowned, and Heather’s face fell in partial understanding. She didn’t
totally
understand her past because Corinne knew Heather was the kind to fight harder. Corinne had run away knowing she wouldn’t win—she wouldn’t have won back the love of the man she wanted it from, and she wouldn’t have won a custody battle against him if he’d decided to push. Not to mention that every magazine online and on the stands had marked her as trash. At her lowest, their words had confirmed every worst fear she held about herself—not pretty enough, not famous enough, not
good
enough…

“How’s Jonah doing missing your sister?” Heather asked slowly.

“It’s such a weird thing.” Corinne let out a breath. Crazy that she’d rather talk about her deceased sister than the man she’d helped with music over the weekend. “Because I’m his birth mom, but
she
should have been his mom.” Corinne’s older sister who had been trying to get pregnant for years, and Corinne who ended up with a child she wasn’t ready for.

They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the kids carrying in through the open door.

It felt like yesterday that Corinne was terrified, pregnant, and in LA wondering what would happen. The actual events didn’t unfold the way she expected, and she wondered how long Jonah would keep calling her Auntie.

There were days when it felt like him ending up with her in the end was a slap in the face of how she should have stepped up to be his mom from the beginning. And other days when she recognized the tragic events as just events. Jona
h was three and a half when their family was killed—old enough to maybe always have distant memories of the family he should have had. At the time, Corinne was still rebuilding her new life as a yoga instructor and doing the few writing jobs Max found for her on the side. Pretty much the same as now, only for the past two years, she’d been juggling Jonah as well.

“Don’t.” Heather shook her leg. “I can see the sadness pressing in. Enjoy the feeling of your trip, and of freaking
Christian Meyer
.”

“He’s just a guy, H. Like a lot of other guys only with probably ten times the ego. And with a drug problem. He just didn’t pull it out over the weekend.” But he would.
His sobriety wasn’t a sure thing and brokenness only lasted so long. All the years of success with his former band, Kincaid, would start to affect him again.

Once again Heather shook her head.

Corinne didn’t love talking about her couple years in LA, but not everything was bad. With Corinne’s talent and luck, she’d actually gotten noticed when she moved there. And she still had just enough contacts to pay for her small log home subsidized by only a few hours a week of teaching yoga. She was well aware how incredibly fortunate she was.

“Let’s talk about you.” Corinne patted her friend’s knee with a smile. “How’s Dan doing in Afghanistan?”

“Well the contract money is good, as you know, but I miss him. Like, all the time, and I swear sometimes Skype makes it worse. Like he’s right there, only he’s not.”

“No moping Corinne.” Heather chuckled softly. “Not after sleeping with a sexy rock god.”

“And no moping, Heather.” Corinne laughed lightly. “Not with a perfect husband in your life.”

“Fair enough.”

Whatever magic Corinne had brought with her, disappeared when she left. Or dissipated soon after. Chris found himself staring at their notes and lyrics, only the words felt empty. He didn’t remember the riffs until they were played back on his studio’s equipment. The whole thing… Her visit should have lasted longer. He’d gotten the writing back. He should still have it back. But it’d been four weeks of shitty nothing since she’d left.

Max had given him a warning that any communication with Corinne go through him. With how much juggling Chris knew Max was doing for him with the label, he wasn’t about to press the issue, but he was dying to hear her voice. Their contact at xLx Records thought Chris was a lot farther along than he was. Nothing about his album and tour was falling together the way it normally did. xLx Records was trusting Chris, even though they shouldn’t—he didn’t have enough worthy songs for an album, much less a tour. And he was still in a fight with Kincaid over which of the songs
he’d
written, that he was allowed to use or perform.