-Mick Jagger
<>Cash<>
“Fuck...” I breathed out, never realizing how deep this would go.
It was like opening this door I didn’t even know existed. I thought I knew everything about my girl, but I clearly didn’t. Journey was more complex than I’d ever imagined.
Why does she carry these things if she claims to hate her real mom?
I found jewelry I presumed was Bailey’s as well. More pictures of her brothers, her parents, her life. A few magazine clippings of me starting out with Life of Debauchery before our rise to fame.
My chest physically ached when I saw a photo of Journey holding my daughter, Bailey, for what I assumed was the first time. Journey was smiling, peering down at my baby girl with so much love and adoration for the human I created.
I shook my head and closed my eyes, allowing a stream of tears to flow down the sides of my face. There was no controlling them, nor did I want to.
I wanted to feel this.
I needed it.
I hadn’t felt anything in the last three months, numbing any emotions I had including how much I loved my June. From the moment I relapsed it felt normal. I felt at home with a bottle in my hand and the liquor down my throat.
How the fuck is that right?
For the first time in ages, it felt damn fuckin’ good to allow my soul to process what I’d tried to run from. I always thought I was hiding behind my guitar.
Oh, how wrong I was.
It was alcohol.
Tugging the hair away from my face, I turned the page in her journal that appeared the oldest. The pages were worn down, holding in all her thoughts and emotions.
Dear Diary,
This is my first journal, and Mommy got it for me for my sixth birthday a few weeks ago. Today I saw Johnny Cash McGraw.
He sang to me again, and I danced to all his music. I was his number one fan. He was my person. His music makes me happy. Very very happy.
I can’t wait to see him again.
Hopes. Dreams. Wishes. Boys suck, but Cash is the best.
<3
Journey
I was the first person she wrote about in her journal.
“My girl,” I rasped, turning the pages further down her entries.
The one I stopped to read had dried tears on the page, grabbing my attention.
Dear Diary,
Today is a bad, bad, bad day. I hate today.
Cash left.
He left, and I don’t know when I will see him again. He promised he would call me, and I’m going to wait by the phone. I’m very, very, very sad.
Today is the worst day of my life.
<3
Journey
“Oh, baby...” I coaxed, realizing how much I’d hurt her without wanting to.
Pages and pages of entries were in this one book. I placed it aside and opened another one.
Dear Diary,
Daddy says hate is a strong word, but I don’t care because it’s the truth, and I didn’t lie.
I hate my biological mother.
Mommy said it isn’t nice to say or think those emotions, and it isn’t something I should let myself feel. I just don’t understand why it’s so important for them to tell me my mommy didn’t give birth to me.
I don’t like Bailey.
I don’t want her to be my real mommy. Just because I was in her stomach doesn’t mean anything. She never showed me love, took care of me when my tummy hurt. She didn’t teach me to dance or to read and talk.
Camila did.
She’s my real mommy in my eyes. I’m the smartest kid in my fifth-grade class because of her. And I’m only going to get smarter because Daddy is a genius and that means he is super-duper smart.
Camila is the only mom I’ve ever known. I don’t understand why my family always pushes Bailey on me so much.
I don’t care what she looked like.
What her favorite flower was.
What she loved to eat or sing.
I don’t care about her.
It hurts my heart that Camila didn’t bake me in her belly. She is my real mommy.
Now and forever.
Sincerely,
Journey
I took a deep breath. My girl had always been an old soul. I read a few more entries and moved onto the next couple of journals, doing the same thing. There wasn’t anything Journey didn’t tell her diary.
How much she missed me.
How much she wanted to see me again.
Her brothers.
Her family.
Even down to my baby girl, Bailey.
She didn’t leave anything out.
By the time I got to the last journal she’d been writing in on the tour bus, I was emotionally spent. Feeling as though I’d just found out things I shouldn’t have known. The guilt of reading her deepest, darkest thoughts seeped through my pores, and I regretted the decision to invade her privacy.
I threw everything back into her backpack, deciding it was best to leave her current state of mind to herself. Besides, I’d fucked up.
I’d been fuckin’ up.
I didn’t need to read her thoughts to know that.
When I reached for her newest journal, it slipped through my hands and fell open on a page.
My stomach dropped, and all the color drained from my face. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe. Staring at the bright and bold...
Plus sign.
Chapter 27
“Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen.”
-Amy Winehouse
<>Journey<>
I walked around aimlessly in a city I wasn’t familiar with. It didn’t matter, though. I wanted to get lost and not be found. Purposely, I roamed every corner of every street I stumbled upon. Trying to form a coherent thought.
My mind was a jumbled mess of what the fucks...
How could he do this to me?
If he was hiding the pills ... what else was he hiding that I didn’t know about?
See, this was the biggest problem when someone betrayed your trust. Having to decipher between the truths and lies. I never thought I’d be in this place in my life. Dependent on a man who was addicted to alcohol and drugs. I was just as bad as he was.
My head was pounding so hard, I could barely see straight. It felt like a hammer was beating my skull. The darkness and the shining lights beaming off the poles didn’t help my overly stimulated brain.
I called an Uber to take me back to the hotel, although it was the last place I wanted to be. I had none of my things— no wallet, no purse, no clothes. All my belongings were back in the suite with him.
Thank goodness I had the keycard in my pocket, or else I wouldn’t have been able to get back in. I had no idea what I was going to walk in on when I made my way through the door.
The penthouse looked immaculate, nothing was out of place. I paid no attention to any of the extravagancies that Cash never held back on. He showed me what life could be made of.
Just more of his bullshit lies.
My backpack and bag were sitting on the bed in the master suite as I strolled into the bathroom, heading straight for the tub. I laid in there until my skin pruned and the water ran cold. Once I placed my silk robe over my shaken body, I went to look for the addict I’d been sleeping with.
He was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t a surprise to me he’d ran away again. It was what he did best. Instead of dealing with the uncertainty of our future, I went to bed. Only to be woken up in the middle of the night...
With the villain laying on top of me.