Breaking South: A Turner Artist Rocker Novel (The Turner Artist Rocker Series Book 3)

by Alyson Santos

  I shake my head. “Genevieve,” I force out, but there’s no fire in my voice anymore. She’s gone. Wait. No. I hurt her. She doesn’t want me. Or. Was it all a dream?

  “She’s fine, Ollie. I saw it on the news. Just a concussion and sprained ankle. She’s going to be okay.”

  The air immediately lifts around me. “Thank god.” I can actually breathe again. My own body may not have fared as well, however, as we inch back down to my apartment.

  “Damn it, kid. Why’d you have to fight me so hard?”

  I shrug, but even that hurts. I suppress a groan with each step, refusing to let on how much I’m hurting. Sandy shakes his head as if he knows anyway.

  “I’m messaging Carlos and telling him you’ll be late tomorrow. Let’s aim for an after-lunch session and keep it short. It’s Sunday anyway.”

  “No,” I grunt as we finally reach the landing in my kitchen. “I need to train.”

  “You need to fucking rest and get your head on straight. That’s what you need to do. Look, I get that you’re going through hell right now, but you can’t take your emotional shit out on your body, okay? Get some rest and deal with the breakup mess tomorrow.”

  My gaze shoots to him in alarm. “The breakup mess?”

  His eyes narrow at me. “Ah fuck. Did you hit your head too?”

  I shake it and straighten, ignoring the stiffness in my body. “What mess? Wait, what breakup? What are you talking about?”

  “Shit, Ollie. Don’t do this to me. Or yourself.”

  Still, I have no clue what he’s talking about. She’s mad, sure. I bailed on her. She fell. She’s hurt. Her mom is pissed. But a public breakup?

  Sandy sighs and leads me to the couch. He motions for me to sit, but I don’t want to sit. There’s no sitting when you hit rock bottom and still your life continues to spiral.

  “Sit,” he snaps. “Don’t make me make you. You know I will.”

  I curse and perch on the edge of the cushion, pulling my phone from my pocket. I hate that internet gossip has become my news source lately, but I’m not sure what other choice I have. No one else seems willing to keep me informed. I avoid the string of unread texts from Camille and others, knowing they’ll only bring more questions.

  It’s an easy search. Too easy, and the latest update posted just minutes ago. I sink into the cushion, suddenly crushed under the weight of it all.

  CHAPTER 16

  Wake up, it’s time

  The violent tide

  Has made you mine

  Through the tears we cry

  Over truth and lies

  These tragic ties

  Have bound our lives

  To survive

  Another rise

  Of the violent tide

  So wake up, it’s time

  GENEVIEVE

  “Hadley?” I groan at the sharp pain in my ankle. The one in my head is worse. They promised the painkillers would last through the night. Liars. I was lucky, they said. I’ll be back on my feet in a couple of weeks and make a full recovery. Lucky… told you they’re liars. Is it weird I had to fake a smile at that? That I was disappointed I didn’t get hurt worse than I did? There was a split second as I was falling that the fear blossomed into relief. My mother’s manic reassurance when I woke in the hospital erased all hope and sent me back to the verge of panic. Funny reaction to news that you were “lucky.”

  “Where’s my phone? Has Oliver called?” I ask.

  Did Hadley just wince? “He… Um, your mom has your phone. She’s been handling your messages.”

  “My mom?” Blood drains from my face. I feel it pool in my stomach and slosh around in nauseous waves. “Hadley—”

  She shakes her head, cutting me off. “Don’t. You focus on you. Get better. Let me and the team deal with the press.”

  “Press?” I groan again and drop back to the pillow of this stupid hospital bed. I told them I’m fine, but because of the head injury they wanted to keep me for observation until morning. Then again, maybe I’m not fine. The blood pressure monitor certainly doesn’t think so at the moment.

  “What are they saying?” I ask in as calm a voice as I can manage. Gosh, I want Oliver right now. Somehow, I think it’d all be okay if he were here, sitting in that chair currently occupied by my assistant. Or better yet, cuddled up with me. I almost laugh at the thought of his big body crammed next to me on this tiny bed. Almost. I can’t laugh when he’s not here. When my head pounds and my ankle throbs and no one seems willing to tell me what the heck is going on.

  “Just rest,” Hadley says gently. “Nothing we can’t deal with tomorrow.”

  I glare at her, but even that hurts. “I need my phone. I have to call Oliver.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Hadley!”

  “Okay, just…”

  Concern mixes with the nausea at her expression. She glances around nervously before leaning in. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything,” she whispers, watching the door.

  I follow her gaze, stiffening as my mother moves into the room. “Oh, Genny, sweetie. You’re awake.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I mumble. “Hadley said you have my phone. Can I have it back, please?”

  “Sweetie, there’s plenty of time for that later. For now, you need to rest.”

  I shake my head despite the pain. “No, I want it now. I have to call Oliver. I’m sure he’s heard, and he’s probably worried sick.”

  Her lips press into a thin line, but I don’t care. “Genevieve. Honey.” Her expression falls, and my heart rate picks up again. I’m expecting the nurses to rush in at any second from my crazy vitals.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She sighs. “You haven’t heard.”

  “Heard what?”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Oliver, he…” She pauses, and my stomach lurches. “I called him last night. I tried to convince him to come see you but he refused. He said he has too much on the line with his career and can’t afford a scandal like this. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

  I stare at her in shock. My mouth opens to speak, then closes again when no words come out. I shake my head again. No. No, that doesn’t make sense. My gaze swings to Hadley who looks away. What? Is she confirming or denying? “No. That can’t be true.” The words come out this time, and I study my mother’s face for any sign of dissent. A lie. They lie, right? That can’t be true. Why won’t Hadley look at me?!

  “I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you. Athletes are fickle. He’s probably gone back to that Regina woman.”

  I glare up at her, clenching my fist on the sheet. “He didn’t even know her.”

  “So he said. I have sources that say differently.”

  “Then your sources are liars too.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I know you’re hurt, but—”

  “Fine, then give me my phone and let me hear it from him. Let him tell me I’m not worth a scandal.”

  There. Her eyes shift for a second, a flicker of alarm. I feel sick. Oh god, what did she do?

  “Give me my phone!” I demand.

  “Really, Gen. You’re making a scene,” she hisses in a whisper.

  I turn to Hadley. “Give me yours,” I say, holding out my hand. Hadley’s gaze brushes my mother before landing back on me.

  “Don’t do it, Hadley,” my mother says. “You know she needs to rest.”

  “What I need is to hear my boyfriend’s voice,” I snap, holding out both hands on either side of the bed. I don’t care who freaking gives me a phone at this point.

  My mom’s eyes narrow with a coldness that shocks me. “That boy is not your boyfriend.”

  “Yes. He is. Now give me my phone.”

  “No, he’s not. He never deserved you, Genevieve. He’s done nothing but turn you against us and ruin everything we’ve worked for our entire lives. He’s bad for you. How can you not see that?”

  “No, he’s shown me the truth about everything you’ve worked for. He’s shown m
e how to find the person I really am. The person I was meant to be. Now, give me my phone!”

  My mom crosses her arms, looking obstinate, and I seriously consider the fact that I may have to call security on my own mother.

  “Well, one day you will see that it’s for the best. You will thank me for protecting you when you wouldn’t protect yourself. So now you can relax and focus on getting better. I’ve already taken care of the entire thing with Selena. No one blames you for any of it. In fact, Selena thinks this will actually help your tour and album sales. You should see the outpouring of support for you right now.”

  My blood runs cold. Oh no. “What have you done?” My voice is barely a whisper. When her expression hardens, my gaze snaps to Hadley. “What did she do? What’s going on?”

  Hadley looks stricken as she blinks and sends me a silent plea. The air thins around me, nausea welling within me again as the panic returns. Not the old kind that can be fixed with a sheet over a mirror and a few deep breaths. This is the new kind. The cavernous abyss of a forever I don’t want and the absence of the one thing I do.

  I can’t do it. It’s too much. There’s no color. No light. No air.

  “Gen? What is it? You okay?” Hadley’s tone has changed back to concerned caretaker. Can she see I’m drowning?

  Tears flood my eyes. “Give me your phone. Please!” I gasp out. I’m sobbing now, unable to catch my breath. I need him. I need him. Where’s Oliver?

  A nurse rushes in, pausing when she takes in the scene. The monitors must be telling them the frightening story of my life right now. That I’m dying, just not physically.

  “What is it? Are you in pain?” she asks, glancing at the others before focusing on me.

  “Yes! And I need her out! Now!” I point at my mother, who stiffens and looks hurt. “Leave!” I scream, waving at her. She takes a step back, still unsure, and I swat my hand again. “I want her out! Now!”

  “Ms. Fox, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the nurse says to my mother. “We need her to calm down.”

  “But, she’s my—”

  “I understand that, but right now, the best thing you can do is give her space. We’ll call you when she’s ready.”

  I could laugh at that. A crazy, maniacal laugh. When I’m ready for what? For the lies? For the nothing? I’m not dying. I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a long time. But they don’t care. Corpses are easier to pose and manipulate at will.

  She inches another step back, tears glistening beneath her fake lashes and running over her Botoxed cheeks. She doesn’t even look like my mother anymore. When did that happen?

  Once she’s gone, I do breathe easier, even calming enough to get the nurse to leave as well. When we’re alone, I turn back to Hadley. My breathing is still labored; my heart still pounds in my chest, but at least I’m functioning again. “Please, Hadley. Please give me your phone.”

  She sighs and casts one more agonized look at the door before reaching into her bag. “Just... he might not answer, Gen.”

  “What?”

  Her eyes soften with sympathy and sadness as she pulls something up on the screen and hands it to me.

  A string of headlines stares back at me. I almost choke at the first few, and they only get worse the further down I get. The tears rush back, a deep ache blooming in my chest. It’s everything I can do not to vomit at the pain he must be experiencing right now. What have I done to him?

  “They spun everything to make it look like it was his fault. He’s the reason for your strange behavior lately. Your downfall, as everyone’s calling it. They said you’re seeking a restraining order because he’s violent and manipulative.”

  “A restraining order?” It comes out as a whisper, my entire body numb. No. No, no. The air siphons from the room again. Oliver? Violent and manipulative? He’s the sweetest, most selfless person I’ve ever met. He supported me when the rest of the world exploited me. Saw me when they ignored me. He’s the hero and I’m the villain in this story, and suddenly I’m filled with rage. At my mother and her lies, yes. But also at myself and my disgusting phantom life that I allowed to rule me for so long. It took the most beautiful human the universe could create and violated him. Abused him. Exposed him to the ugliest of the ugly and laughed as he fell. As I fell. Yes, they’re all laughing because the higher the throne the more thrilling the view when idols crash toward you.

  My hand shakes as I find his name in her contacts. He called her earlier I see. “What did he say when you talked to him?”

  “I didn’t.” Hadley looks guilty as she lowers her eyes. “I missed the initial calls and your mother said she’d make sure I was fired or worse if I got involved. I didn’t want to get separated from you, especially now, so I didn’t call him back. I’m sorry, Gen. I should have, though. I know that now. I just…” Her gaze lifts to me as she searches my eyes. “I’m scared because I don’t know how to help you this time. Everyone keeps talking about your downfall, but that’s not what I see. I’ve seen the opposite over these last few weeks. I’m not sure what’s going on with you exactly, but I like who you’ve been. I like how you light up when Oliver’s around. You’re calmer, stronger. I love that you’ve been in your studio, that you’re sneaking Joel into the house at all hours of the night. I don’t know what any of it means, but I like that I’ve stopped walking on eggshells, waiting for our glass house to shatter. You were about to break before Oliver. You know that, right? I saw it after every show, every interview. You were hanging by a thread, and I feared at any moment we’d lose you. But it’s like you can breathe again. You’ve been… I don’t know… free?”

  I blink back emotion as I study her. I’ve known Hadley since I was a child. We met at a birthday party and she was the only one who didn’t treat me like I was different. I’ve always felt like I was encased in plastic wrap. No matter how close I tried to get to someone, there was a layer separating us, a filter I didn’t understand, especially as a child. Hadley made me feel visible, and I realize Oliver’s pull is the same. I can breathe around them because for a brief period I don’t have to perform. I can be me, the girl in the mirror. Am I strong enough to figure out who that person is and let her live the rest of my life in place of the plastic-wrap girl? I don’t know, but with Hadley and Oliver by my side, I know I’m strong enough to try.

  “Come here,” I say quietly.

  Hadley hesitates before pushing up from her chair and approaching the bed. “I’m sorry, Genevieve. I know—”

  I cut her off as I grip her arm and pull her in for a hug. “I love you, Had,” I say softly. “You’re the only person who’s always been there for me. I know I don’t tell you enough, but you’re not an employee. You’re my best friend.”

  We hold on for several seconds, and I let her warmth soak into me. I draw as much strength as I can because I’m going to need it to fix the other relationship I need in my life. When we pull back, her eyes are red-rimmed, and I catch the swift wipe at them.

  “I’ve never seen you cry before,” I say with a hint of amusement.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not crying. It’s this dry hospital air.”

  I chuckle. “Okay. Sure.”

  “You tell a soul about this, I will dye your hair green while you sleep.”

  I cross my finger over my heart, suppressing a laugh.

  She rolls her eyes again. “I’m gonna check out the vending machines. You want anything?”

  “Yes, please. I’m starving.”

  “Good. You need to eat. Tell Oliver I say hi.”

  My smile fades when she disappears. It’s just past six in the morning, probably a bad time to call him. Would he even take my call? Maybe not, but he might answer Hadley. Even if he hangs up the second he learns it’s me, it will be worth it. Just hearing his voice… my chest constricts at the thought of his soothing tone. Gosh, if he were here with me I’d be able to do anything. We’ve already proven that, haven’t we? The world is calling it my downfall but Hadley’s right. So wa
s Oliver who’s seen it since the beginning. I had to fall to rise. I had to break to fix what was already broken. Now’s my moment. I’m plunging south. Do I have the courage to let myself hit the ground so I can start the climb back up?

  I’ve lived my mother’s life for twenty-two years. The label’s. The masses of faceless strangers who think they know me, even though I was no one. Maybe it’s time for me to start living my own life.

  I press call.

  My heart pounds as I wait for an answer. He’s probably sleeping. Should I leave a message? It might be the last thing I ever say to him. What do you tell the person who saved your life while you ruined his?

  “Hadley? Thank god. How’s Genevieve?”

  Oliver.

  Tears spring to my eyes.

  My throat closes.

  He’s… my world softens and hardens at the same time. I’m falling and soaring. Breaking south toward arms that I know are strong enough to catch me. No injury can take that strength away from him.

  “Oliver…” I breathe his name like air. I hear the relief in my voice, the longing.

  “Genevieve?”

  My eyelids can’t hold the tears anymore. They crash down my cheeks, searing a path at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s the sweetest lyric, the perfect song. I want to hear it all the time. Over and over and over.

  “Yes… it’s… it’s me.” I have to gasp the words out. They’re stuck in my throat. I’m so sorry. None of it is true. I love you. I love you so much.

  “I’m glad to hear from you. I thought…” The pain in his voice. I shake my head, desperate to reach through the phone and touch him. He must have believed those lies. That I would actually think he was anything short of amazing.

  I need the words to come out. I need him to know. Just say it! Tell him, Gen. Be brave for once in your life. “Nothing they’re saying is true. I’m so sorry. I… I love you.”

  Nothing.

  Then: “You love me? Wait… does that mean you want to see me?”

  “You’re all I want,” I rush out. “Always. It was my mother who said that stuff, I swear. I just found out about it… I need you—want you. So much. But—”