Chapter 17

*Elena*

Why did this have to happen now? "I thought you said I was in the clear?" Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. Huh, easier said than done. At least the shock wasn't as bad as the first time I'd heard those dreaded words. I wonder how most people handle stuff like this.

The first time around, the fear had been so great I was sure there was no way I was going to make it. That time had come at the darkest time in my life when everything had been turned upside down, and I didn't really want to live until I was almost certain that I would die. Then my life became the most precious thing to me, and I would've done anything to hold onto it.

Things were much different this time around. It was the complete opposite situation. I was finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel; I was finally coming back into my own. I'd found that sweet spot between loving life and not giving a fuck. Now once again, that news was dropped into my lap like a hot potato that nobody wanted.

"Yes, but we also warned you that there was a slight possibility that it might come back again. The good news is that we caught it just in time; we'll just get you on the right medication and keep an eye on it." That didn't sound so bad. Not like they had to cut me open again, which is something I fear greatly.

"Okay, are you sure that's all that's going to be needed?" Even my acting skills failed me now. I guess it was hard to feign indifference when your very life was on the line, and there was no guarantee, no matter what he said, that things would go as smoothly as he said.

"For now, we're pretty sure. Don't panic; like I said, things aren't as bad as they were the first time, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Okay, doc, I'll take your word for it. Not that I have any other choice." See, no panic.

Gah, the story of my life. Just when I was getting back into the swing of things, the stupid sickness had to come back and knock me down a peg. I guess my karma is still not good, though I wish like heck I knew why that was. I've always lived by the mantra, ‘kill them with kindness,' but no one else seems to have got the memo.

I left the doctor's office after having my prescription filled, already feeling down, and then I was bombarded by the paparazzi who I thought I'd evaded on the way here. "Elena, what do you have to say about the latest TikTok post?" What post? Doesn't everyone know by now that I don't use social media?

Now I'm going to be worrying about that stupid shit for the rest of the day before I inevitably give in and look, which will most likely send me spiraling into hell again. I didn't know the half of it.

That was day one, the beginning of the new smear campaign that someone had designed to either send me over the edge or cause me to end myself. For months, I had been on the mend; my illness had been under control or in remission, and my mental health was the best it had been in quite some time.

I was living my best life, finally going out on the town again, which was fine as long as I steered clear of all the places I used to like. I'd even started traveling again with my friends mostly and sometimes alone when I needed to decompress. I was starting to believe that my life wasn't always going to be the shit show it had become the last few years.

I still had a moratorium on all things social media, which goes a long way toward keeping my sanity in check. Though it was hard to avoid all the rhetoric while out and about, my friends have been going out of their way to shield me from the worst of it. So I was pretty much covered.

One amazing thing about the last few months was being contacted by my ex-mother-in-law; well, I'm not sure I can call her that since Ryder and I were never married. But she was like a mother to me for almost ten years of my life, and that's just the way I'd always seen her.

It hadn't been the easiest thing hearing from her in the beginning, but somehow, we'd navigated those first few conversations until it became easier, and now our biweekly talks were something I looked forward to.

That was my personal life, and then there were all the offers that kept pouring in since my latest album had been such a hit. Who am I kidding? It was the best damn thing I'd ever produced, and I was still riding the high from its success.

The documentary was received much better than I expected. Instead of the ridicule and pity I expected, or even the shunning, I found great solace in the many shared stories from people who were suffering in the dark, most of the people I would never have expected.

It seemed the world had gone and changed in the years since I'd been keeping myself hidden, and people were more willing to share their truth. Though I still don't exactly trust this town, it was more so the people on the outside, everyday people with normal lives who suffered some sort of mental illness in silence because of the stigmas.

I was starting to believe that whatever karmic misery had been unleashed on me was finally coming to an end. But as if toying with me, life had slapped me back with another great big fuck you, first with the return of cancer that was hellbent on taking my life and then on the same day, as if someone really was convinced that I was strong enough to handle it all, the beginning of another social media attack.

Now it had been weeks of nonstop lies and rumors and anything and everything to bring me down. This time I found it harder to look away, and so I took all of that filth into me to digest, only to find it hard to purge it out again. It just sits inside of me like a dead weight that I now have to carry with all my other burdens.

To make matters worse, the medication has me packing on the pounds, and they make me too ill to even think of exercise, so on top of everything else, I have become a blob who cries each time I look into the mirror. I'd really like to know who I pissed off to be treated this way for the better part of five years.

I have to hold it together this time around for my friends, though. Sydney was finally willing to leave my side for more than ten minutes, and she had a tour coming up, not to mention the other bullshit that had splattered onto her life from mine.

That was a whole other mess and something she'd beaten in her own spectacular way, but still, I couldn't help feeling guilty because someone I loved had been hurt by the people who surrounded the man I thought would be mine for life.

These days I didn't have the will to get out of bed. I just lay there and read all the horrible things being said about me and feeling sorry for myself. Rachel had given up trying to get me to give her my phone; no amount of arguments on her part could tear me away from this new round of trauma-seeking.

I thought that first picture was bad, and the things she revealed about me had only been shared with Ryder, the one person I thought I could trust. But these new posts had gone beyond even my wildest imagination. It was as if someone had set out to destroy me this time around, and I've got to say, they were doing a pretty good job of it.

***

*Ryder*

"Mom, I just got your message; what's up?" I was still a bit out of breath from the last set on stage. I'd gotten into the habit of checking my messages to see if she'd found out anything more about what we'd talked about when I went to her place and also as a way to keep tabs on Elena.

Mom had contacted her the very next day, and the two of them had rekindled the friendship they'd shared when Elena and I were together. I'm still finding it hard to think of us in the past tense, and more so now that I am away from home and no longer getting as high as I used to.

I have to keep my senses about me somewhat in order to perform, except for those first few days at the beginning of the tour when it felt as if I would die if I didn't take a hit of something I've been cutting way back.

The results were twofold because now I had more time to think, though some of my memories weren't very clear and didn't make a whole lot of sense. I still haven't been as free as I'd like, so I couldn't check up on her myself as I would like to, so these calls and texts from Mom were the highlights of my day.

"She's in the hospital."

"Who?"

"Elena." I think my heart stopped, and the world started moving in slow motion while the ground beneath my feet felt unsteady.

"What do you mean? Is she hurt? How bad is she?"

"She's in the psych ward; at least, that's what the tabloids are saying. She had some sort of mental breakdown."

"What? Why?" I had that feeling you get when you have to throw up and crap at the same time, but the body goes into lockdown.

"I don't know, maybe because your wife and her friends have been terrorizing her for weeks." This was not the time to address the venom in my mom's voice when she said the word wife. I'd come to the conclusion pretty much that there was no love lost between those two.

I was still unsure what game Janie was playing by keeping my family away from my home because I figured I could fix that issue once I got back. "Which hospital? Do you know?"

"Some place in Alabama, I don't remember the name of it, but I can look it up and get back to you."

"Text it to me as soon as you find it; I'll be in the air in less than an hour."

I hung up and went to find my manager, who was probably already on his way to the hotel lining up groupies, which I had no interest in. "Scott!" I called out to him as soon as I saw him in the hallway outside my room door. There was already loud music and sounds of a party coming from inside the room when I brushed past him.

"Hey, what're you doing? The party's out there." He'd followed me into the bedroom of the suite leaving the guests outside. I ignored the two women on the bed, who looked barely a minute over eighteen, as I grabbed my bags and started shoving what I needed into them.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an emergency; you have to cancel the rest of the tour."

"What? What're you talking about? Do you know how much money we're gonna lose?"

"I can't tell you how little of a fuck I give right now." I brushed past him again and jogged down the hallway with my phone to my ear.

He tried keeping up with me, even tried to hold me back, but I pulled out of his hand and kept going. "Is this about that girl? Listen, Ryder, you're married…." My look had him shutting the hell up, and he even took a step back.

The fact that he knew what this was about just put him on my shit list. I'd been spending my time here after my visit to Mom, trying to figure out what the hell was going on while trying to piece together the puzzling bits and pieces of memories that kept flashing through my mind.

I knew or had come to believe that I was surrounded by people with an ulterior motive; I just couldn't figure out who. Of everyone in my crew, Scott, my manager for as long as I've had a career, knows what she means to me. He, of all people, should know that even though we weren't together anymore, I still cared about her. Which means he should know that her being hurt was something I would want to know.

I had finished my call to the pilot by the time I slid into the backseat of the car after telling him I didn't care what he had to do; I wanted in the air in half an hour or less. I was seven hours out, fuck. What was I supposed to do with that time other than obsess over what was going on with her?

I wasn't looking forward to the next few hours, that feeling of helplessness was already setting in, and I've never been too good at the waiting game. I needed a hit in the worst way, but the fear of something happening to her before I reached her killed the need real quick.

I had never been so afraid before in my life, and for once, I had the power to stop the tears that came in a rush. I wanted to hit something or someone, but a good scream into the void helped take the edge off. Stay calm, Ryder. Getting upset isn't going to change anything, and you won't be of any help to her if you lose your shit.

I had a lot of questions, like why the hell was she so far away from home? What exactly had happened? Who was by her side? Was she alone? None of these things made me feel any better, so I thought it best to think about something else.

What did Mom mean that Janie and her friends had been tormenting her? What had they done exactly? And why the fuck was she still messing with her after all this time? I had to pull it back and rein it in. There was no point in being angry about that now, not before I learned all I needed about the situation, and then I could go from there.

Right now, the only thing I should be thinking about, the only thing that was rightfully on my mind, was her and getting to her. I know this won't change anything, but it didn't matter; I just wanted to be there. I just needed to be by her side until I was sure she was okay. I'll deal with the fallout from the canceled tour some other time, or Scott could handle it himself, the jerk.

***

Those were the longest seven hours of my life. I barely waited for the jet to stop taxiing before running down the metal stairs to the car I had waiting there. I'm not dumb enough to leave things to chance, so I'd made some calls, greased some palms, and found a way into her room without being noticed.

The disguise wasn't the best, and this late at night, I wasn't really expecting the paparazzi to be there, but I wasn't taking any chances. I had the car let me off around the corner from the medical center and walked the rest of the way, keeping my head down and eye out for any unwanted company.

I'm almost certain that Scott would've called Janie by now or one of the others who were bound to tell her. I'm not sure why they were all working so hard to keep Elena and me apart, but that's something else I've been thinking about.

Granted, no woman wants her husband's ex around, but they've been acting like she and I, even seeing each other from afar, would be some great catastrophe. I nodded to my source, who met me at the back entrance to the clinic and followed him through the maze of hallways leading to her room.

"It's quiet tonight; take all the time you need." Money truly does work wonders. At least I'd looked for someone who needed the money and deserved it. I wasn't always that careful in the past.

I never really gave a damn who I used to serve my purpose. That was something I learned from Elena, how to treat people like they mattered. It's easy to forget your own humanity sometimes when you become rich and famous. Add drugs to the mix, and well, you've got a complete asshole. Which is the territory I was headed for before Elena. She was my saving grace. So how did we end up here?

I stood outside the door for a minute before finding the courage to open it and walk in. She was asleep, which is what I expected at this time of night. I leaned against the closed door and watched her for a while, just taking her in. She looked so small, so defenseless, curled in on herself in the fetal position, and my heart hurt in a way it never had before, except for maybe the day I realized what the fuck I'd done to her, to us.

I walked as quietly as I could to the chair beside her bed and sat down, never taking my eyes off of her. I don't know how long I sat there staring at her as she slept, but when the clouds moved away from the moon and I saw the track of tears on her cheeks, something inside of me came awake.

It was a moment of clarity that will go down in the books. Because it was at that moment that I made up my mind that things were going to change. Until I saw her in that bed looking so helpless and alone, I'd all but given up on life. There was nothing left to live for if I couldn't have her, be with her.

I know most people looking in from the outside might wonder why someone with all my material possessions, fame, and adoration would even contemplate checking out. People always seem to think that that's all you need to find happiness, but I've learned the hard way that that's not true in the least.

Sitting there looking at her, it was brought home to me that no matter what had brought us here to this point, I didn't want to live a life without her in it. Because all the money in the world and all the adulation of my fans could never give me what she brought to my life. Nothing could ever replace her, and nothing ever will.

I reached out and touched her hand, hoping that she didn't awaken and freak the hell out. But as she slept and I lifted her fingers to my lips, I made her a promise. "I'll come back for you. No matter what it takes, I'll win your heart again."

I sat there with her hand held loosely in mine until I was half asleep. I knew I shouldn't let the sun find me here, so I left, even though I didn't want to. I sent a message to my guy on the way out, and he met me at the end of the hallway to walk me out. "I'll be back tonight. Same time." I passed him a few more bills which he tried to refuse, but I insisted.

I left the way I came and headed in the direction of the no-frills hotel I was staying at for the night. I'd sent the car away because I knew what I had planned for when I left from seeing her. I don't care what happens and who does what. I have to find my way back to her somehow, and going home where my unwanted wife was bound to be, was not part of the equation.