Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (24 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Liza

"Where is he?" A woman's voice stirs me from sleep.

I try to stretch, but my body is held down by Jackson. At some point, he rolled over, pinning me underneath his body.

"I don't care if he's still sleeping." The woman's voice is followed by the door bursting open.

Peeking over Jackson's arm, my eyes take in a lovely caramel-haired woman with a classic Hollywood glamor about her. Behind her stands an older, extremely attractive, gentleman, and two recognizable faces: the lead singers of The Forgotten and Hushed Mentality.

"Well, isn't this like fucking twisted déjà vu?"

"Chris," Mia Ryder hisses.

"What?" His face screws up in confused annoyance. "It is." He waves toward Jackson and me. "Like the time Nic found us in bed together on the bus."

Embarrassment creeps in a heated flush over my skin. I shove Jackson, rolling him off me, and stand from the bed.

"Give me a moment, please," the woman says, her eyes on me.

"But—” Mia grabs Christopher and drags him out before he can finish.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me." The handsome gentleman kisses her cheek and exits the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'll get out of your way," I blurt, feeling nervous.

"Julia told me what you did for him." She approaches, leaving only a foot of space between us. "I want to thank you for taking care of my son."

"Of course." Stepping to the side, I move out of her way.

Her soft hand comes to my face, cupping my cheek.

"Thank you so much," she says, tears forming in her eyes.

Being a mother to a son, I can empathize with her. My eyes grow watery.

"You're welcome." I choke on the words.

"It's Liza, correct?" Her warm eyes study me.

I nod and she drops her hand from my face.

"Liza, this person…" She glances to Jackson's prone form, "this isn't Jackson."

Looking back into my eyes, I see determination.

"But I hope he's still in there."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt, "He is."

I watch as relief softens the deep lines of sorrow on her face.

"Good." Her shoulders relax and she stands straighter.

"I'll just get out of your way," I mumble, moving to collect my clothes from the chair so I can dress in the bathroom.

"You don't have to rush off because of me."

I don't look back or think before I respond.

"I have to get home to my son."

Before she has time to react to my admission, I close myself in the hotel bathroom.

Slipping into my clothes, I realize I came here wearing pajamas. Thankfully, I chose to wear cotton shorts and a t-shirt. However, I hadn't worn a bra and my shirt is white. In the morning light, it would be very noticeable.

I look around the bathroom and see Jackson's discarded clothes on the floor. Grabbing his long-sleeved dark tee, I pull it over my head. The shirt is too big, so I roll the sleeves and tie the hem in a knot.

I pull open the bathroom door, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Five sets of eyes turn toward me. Gwen, the older gentleman, which I assume is her husband, Nicholas, Christopher, Mia, and the doctor stare silently. Nervousness prickles across my skin.

"I'll show myself out." My nerves are evident in the pitch of my voice.

"Like I said, Liza, you don't have to go." I glance at Gwen when she speaks. "But I understand why you need to go." Her warm smile makes me instantly like her.

How Jackson could do this to his mother is beyond me. If only my mom had been like her. Mentally shaking my head, I quickly return the smile and exit the bedroom.

My hope to sneak out without any further notice is squashed when nine more sets of eyes turn to me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice is familiar and my hair stands on end.

"Kristy, I suggest you shut the fuck up." This voice is unfamiliar, but her trademark blonde and black hair gives her away. Kat Conway, lead guitarist for Hushed Mentality.

Kristy ignores Kat and stands from a chair, the same chair Jackson shoved out of the way so he could—

"I asked you a question." Kristy is barely a foot away from me.

"Obviously, she was here for Jackson." This voice is also unfamiliar, but it belongs to Laney Trimball, Jackson's ex, and bassist for Hush.

"No one asked you, slut." Kristy tosses over her shoulder.

Laney jumps up and moves to attack. The thick arm of Elliott Brockman stops her, pulling her down on his lap.

"Calm down, Fast Lane. She's just pissed because Jackson has apparently moved on…" his eyes roam over my body, "to curvier and better things." He grins for a moment before shouting in pain. "Christ, baby, that hurt." He rubs where his wife, Serena, just pinched him.

"Can you stop flirting for, oh, I don't know, at least five minutes?" Serena glares.

"I'm just honest," he pouts.

"Keep your honesty to a minimum," she scolds.

"Are you jealous?" He smirks.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Baby, you’ve got nothing to be jealous about. You know you're the only girl for me." He smiles wide.

"Oh, I'm so lucky," she feigns excitement.

"I know, right!" He sits back on the couch, putting his hands behind his head. "I'm a fucking catch."

Serena's face twists and she grabs her swollen stomach.

"What's wrong?" Elliott pushes Laney from his lap, reaching for Serena.

"Nothing." She sits back, stretching her body out. "He's got his feet in my ribs again."

Elliott winces, but stays on high alert.

"What can I get you?"

"A new husband." She grins.

"Not fucking funny, babe," he pouts again, and I have to fight not to laugh.

"This is all so pathetically cute, but I asked this whore a question." Kristy steps closer and I step back, wanting to keep space between us.

"Leave her alone." Laney gets involved once more. "Apparently, Jackson wanted her here, not you."

"Stay out of this, you cheating slut." Kristy spins, facing Laney. "If it weren't for you spreading your legs to whoever will climb between them, Jackson wouldn't be in this state, would he?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Did that Ethiopian white girl just say that shit in front of us?" Kat looks to Serena, who nods.

"Yeah, she did."

I glance over my shoulder, seeing this came from Mia.

"Bitch, are you crazy or just hungry? You know Laney's our sister, right?" Kat leans forward, hands on her knees.

"I don't give a shit about your—”

"Serena, hold my phone. I'm gonna kill this trick." Kat stands, only to be stopped by the final member of The Forgotten.

"Don't go to jail." Jimmy Thompson holds tightly to her forearm. "I don't have enough on me for bail."

"I suggest you leave." Mia's voice comes from right behind me.

I tense, unsure whether she's talking to Kristy or me.

"I'm his girlfriend," Kristy counters.

"Ex-girlfriend," Laney corrects, causing Kristy's face to redden.

"We all saw your interview," Kat adds, satisfaction all over her face.

"Yes, bravo by the way." Mia accentuates her sarcasm with slow claps.

"You don't know anything," Kristy hisses. "She's damn proof of the way he's treated me." She points a long, manicured finger in my face. "He's a cheating bastard."

Lack of sleep, stress, and the current situation causes something inside me to snap. I slap her hand out of my face, causing her to gasp.

"Then why are you here?" I ask, my voice cold and lashing. I step forward and she retreats, stumbling on her heels.

"If he is so awful and things were so terrible, why are you even here?"

"I…I love him," she responds, too quickly.

I snort.

"You love yourself and the attention. He broke it off and you don't like losing a toy before you're ready to toss it aside."

Her mouth parts, but my head is swimming and exhaustion washes over me.

"I'm so over this." I put my hands up, palms out, turn from Kristy, and walk to the room door. Reaching for the handle, I look back and lock eyes with Mia. "Take care of him."

Then, I leave. Every step to the elevator feels like a knife in my heart.

I focus my thoughts on Lucas, Kel, and Sean. And then I figure out what the hell I'm going to tell Sid when I get home.

Jackson

"Liz-ah?" My throat is so dry, my voice cracks.

Swallowing burns. I grab my neck.

"She's gone."

My mother's voice pulls me completely out of sleep and into a sitting position.

"Careful." She puts out a hand. "You'll rip out the IV."

She sits in a chair next to the bed. Following her eyes, I see the tube attached to the back of my hand.

"What—"

"Happened?" My mother finishes my question.

I look back to her face.

"You almost killed yourself," she says, her face a mixture of sadness and angry.

"Mom, I didn't—”

"Yes, Jackson, you did." She stands from the chair, looking down at me. "What is this?" She waves her hands over me and across my destroyed hotel bedroom.

Shit. Randall and those fucking people he brought with him.

"Mom, listen, it's nothing, really." I scoot back, leaning against the headboard.

"Nothing?" she repeats, her voice almost shrieking. I flinch.

I haven't heard her this mad since the time I went to jail for a bar fight while on tour.

"Is that your goal, to be nothing?"

"What the fu…uh…heck are you talking about?"

"You almost ended up as nothing." She drops back into the chair, desperation on her face. "The doctors found cocaine, ecstasy, and traces of LSD in your system. And let's not forget the amount of alcohol in your blood."

I open my mouth, but she puts her hand up, stopping me.

"You had a fever of one-hundred and six, Jackson. And that was after the doctor found you in an ice bath." Large tears trail over her cheeks. "If it weren't for Liza, you would’ve probably had a stroke or heart attack. You could be in a coma right now!" Her shriek makes me wince, but it's her tears that hurt most. "You could still have permanent damage to your heart or kidneys. Do you realize that? You still have to go get more tests to make sure you don't."

I bring my hand to my chest, trying to rub the ache away. Tears burn behind my eyes.
I've fucked up so much. The drugs, lies…Liza. Fuck, where is Liza?

"You aren't my son."

I stiffen, a tear escaping the corner of my eye.

"You aren't my Jackson," she hiccups. "You're a rock star cliché and it's pathetic," she says, the last word spoken with pure disgust.

"Why, Jackson?" Her question is a plea to understand.