Chapter Nine
He floated for a while. His therapist walking him through hours of breathing, and he’d been returned to his room with a weighted blanket and set up to listening to the body scan over and over. He didn’t really sleep, but with the mask on, and working like mad to calm his breathing, he barely existed. It was better than the constant panic that had burned through him earlier in the day.
Someone was touching his face. A gentle hand combing through his hair, a body curled up next to him.
Tommy sucked in a long breath, feeling like he could finally breathe again. He caught the scent of marshmallows. Paige.
“Hey,” Tommy whispered.
“Hey,” Paige said quietly. “Don’t tense. Rest.” She tucked the weighted blanket tighter around him. “You’re not alone, okay?”
He half choked on a sob, because he’d been feeling abandoned all day. How long had she been there? Would she have to leave soon? The panic began to rise again.
“No, sweetie,” Paige whispered, arms wrapping him in a warm hug. He felt her curls brush his face. “You’re okay, I promise. Nothing is gonna happen.”
“My dad…” Tommy began, the thought of him bringing the terror back to life.
“Right, well we just freed Britney; we aren’t letting you go down that road. You can’t tell me you don’t have a lot of fans who wouldn’t go to bat for you, Tommy Foster.” Her hand on his cheek was warm. “And unlike the big B, you are not alone. Have never been alone. I hope you realize that.”
He turned, wrapping his arms around her and ripping the mask off to cry. He didn’t care if it was an ugly cry. He’d been crying all day anyway. Broken over the idea that his parents were fighting overhis moneyand no one had told him. That his father wanted him medicated and tucked away, why? For money. “I fucking hate being rich sometimes.”
Paige laughed that husky sweet sound he’d learned to really adore. “Having money helps. You wouldn’t be here without it. And you’re doing better, yeah?”
He had been. “Until today.”
“Minor setback,” she said.
“Doesn’t feel minor.”
“Not right this second, but we’ll figure it out. It won’t look as bad once you’ve had some food and real sleep. Time to clear your head. Everything is always magnified in the moment. No reason to let go of all your progress.”
The room was dark, only lit with a nightlight style lamp off to the side, but he hoped he didn’t look like a mess to her. “Thanks for being here. Sorry if I’m taking you away from normal life stuff.”
“How many girls get to say they hug Tommy Foster, pop superstar, on a regular basis?” She teased. “Honestly, it’s been good for me too. I was pretty down when Dane and Bas decided they were moving. I mean…I knew it was going to happen. But sometimes you spend so much time on your own, that when you find a home, you cling to it with everything you have. I have to find my own normal, not rely on them. And coming here makes me think maybe I’ll look into nursing? The mental health kind at least. I’ve learned so much. And the nurses here are great.”
“You would make an amazing nurse.”
“Helping people is good. It makes me feel like I’ve got something to contribute? Gives me a path, even if it’s not defined yet. More than working in some thrift store for the rest of my life.”
It was like she was speaking from somewhere inside of him. The same way he’d felt since getting here. Rehab wasn’t home. But he’d found safety, a place to rebuild. There were bricks missing from his foundation, holes to patch, but he no longer floated in the void. Home, a complicated yet simple thing. And he had new ideas he wanted to pursue, thoughts of where he might go with his life, though they weren’t yet clear. Hope, even when sometimes the darkness hid it from him. “I understand.”
“Hanging out with a hot guy is no hardship,” she teased.
“Have to say it’s nice getting visits from a pretty girl who doesn’t just want to be arm candy,” Tommy said.
“Is that what they do? All those girls you dated?”
“Weren’t really dates. More scheduled promotion. Things to keep the paparazzi out of my hair, or boost up some girl begging for media attention. It’s hard to date when you’re famous. Everyone wants something. Money, fame, a notch on their bedpost, whatever.”
“Their loss.” She ran her hand through his hair again. “You need a trim. Maybe tomorrow we’ll have to visit the stylist. I’ve heard they have one on call here.”
“A real shave would be nice too. The electric only gets so close.” Tommy rubbed his jaw. Okay, he could probably get a little cleaner than that. “I feel like sandpaper.”
Her hand fell over his, sliding over his jaw. Her touch soft and stirring something in his stomach. Butterflies?
“Nah, not that bad. A bit on the scruffy side.”
He leaned into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder as she lay half propped up by his pillows. He wondered if this was okay, or one of the nurses would break them up. They weren’t doing anything, and he wasn’t ready for that anyway. Not until that hole in his brain was gone and he could really feel again. More than little glimpses and snippets, but actual joy. He badly wanted that.
