*Nate*

"You're all sorts of fucked up." Elliott rubs his bald head in frustration while on our very unproductive zoom meeting. I'm barely home in my bed when he decides to facetime me. Fortunately Trisha is right by my side to talk for me.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the last thing Nate wants to hear right now, given the circumstances, Elliott." She retorts. 

I'm literally LAYING IN MY FUCKING BED trying to recover and Richard is already on everyone's asses. Of course I'm all over the news. We knew that would happen, especially with a waiting room full of teenage girls. That's not my concern. I can't help my physical health. This time...I did nothing wrong. I didn't drink through my fucking GI tract. I fucking coughed. That's it. Apparently when you have Heart Failure that's all it needs to be.

"Show some compassion, Elliott! The only reason you are a millionaire is for this man right here. Don't you ever fucking forget it." This is a side of Trisha I don't see often. The side where she has had enough with management. Enough with people pushing us around, pushing the envelope, pushing my health out of the way.

"It's not me. Miss Banks..."

"I know it's not you, but you have pull. You know that. This is out of our hands. Nate is not well. He did nothing wrong. He wasn't binge drinking. He was making  low calorie fish on the grille with vegetables. He's been taking care of himself and doing everything right. Even the doctors said so. So why don't you-"

I grab the phone out of Trisha's hand and lay it face down on the bed while shaking my head at her. She's upset and all worked up now. She can't be. Not during this call.

"I'm sorry." Trisha whispers and closes her eyes. She shifts to the side of the bed and drops her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry." 

Elliott got her all worked up and on the brink of tears. I've seen it happen before but he never has. He doesn't deserve to see her tears. I hold her head down on my shoulder and press my cheek down to rest on her while I one handedly text on my own phone.

[Tell him 'I said' to fucking figure it out. No one is all fucked up. This is my  health. Richard can have him hold a press conference. An honest one for a change. Tell my fans everything. They will understand. Make it known I am by no means canceling any leg of my tour but I AM putting my health first. My fans are good to me. They don't look at me like a walking dollar sign. They look at me like a human. Tell him. It will put him in his place and maybe Richard will start showing some FUCKING compassion. I by all mean am planning on being  on that stage. Wembley Arena. I'm doing every thing physically possibly to make that happen.]

I lift Trisha's head up and hand her my phone. I wipe under her eyes for her and fix her hair to make her presentable. Elliott doesn't deserve her emotion. Not today.  Not while he's being Richard's little puppet.

Trisha pulls herself together, takes a deep  breath and picks up her phone. She stands up and begins to pace, rattling off everything I just typed down. She's back to being Trisha Banks. 

I drop my shoulders while watching her in action. She's trying to be so strong and doing a damn good job at it while getting pushed around by my management team. And it isn't even my TOUR management team! They were all very understanding. I mean, just hours ago I was coughing up blood and getting ready for an endoscopy procedure to see what was going on. Yeah , that's right. A camera down your fucking throat. I've been through a lot since 5pm last night. I'm tired. Trisha is tired. We need to catch a break.

Trisha needs a break. This is a lot for her. She lost her mom a few years back to breast cancer. Her mom was everything and that tore Trish apart. All she has left is me and she thinks I'm going down the same horrible path. But I'm not. I'm here and I'm fighting.  But emotionally, I'm sure it brings back a lot of memories from her mom. 

Heart Failure isn't an easy diagnosis to swallow. You need your heart to survive. When you hear it's not working right and there is no cure- you hear death.

*******

*Julia*

"They gave you a free pass to skip your Avalon sessions today, but to rest, Julia. What's going on?"

I know Jeremy had some kind of pull with that after seeing me in the hospital with Nate. Or maybe he called out himself after a long night with Cara. Who knows. But I can't just sit here while Nate and Trisha are in the other room trying to fix Nate's career.

"He has cleaners to do all that shit." Jonah continues while watching me gut out the refrigerator to clean what is already  sparkling. I'm not doing it in a calm manner either. My hands are shaky as sit on the floor and organize everything perfectly while tears begin to stream down my face.

I'm spiraling out and I know it, but I keep my back turned to everyone and continue my OCD cleaning. Maggie sits upright next to me, either waiting for me to have a nervous breakdown or waiting for me to drop food for her to snag. She licks the side of my face and that is the clear indication James needs when he sees his dog. He caught on I'm crying.

I feel James staring at me while sitting at the kitchen island and when he sees Maggie lick away my tear he immediately gets up.  James kneels down next to his dog who is next to me and begins to pet her while talking softly.

"You ok, babe?" He whispers and I nod but I'm not fooling anyone. Especially not fooling James. I continue wiping down jars of pickles and putting them neatly back in their spot. I remember the very first time I opened Nate's humongous luxury fridge. It will filled with all sorts of beers and alcoholic beverages. There may have been a few water bottles on the bottom shelf and a lone apple. 

That's it.

Nate has come a long way since that day. Sure he's had slip ups but God, so  have I. We both have a village of friends helping us under this roof so when James looks up at Jonah and nods his head I know he is giving Jonah a warning that I'm not ok.

"Hey, Julia. C'mere." James puts down the pickle jar I'm frantically wiping clean with shaky hands and a wet cloth. He throws the cloth on the ground and scoops me into his arms, sitting back to lean against the counter. I break down in his arms and hide my face. "Awww. Sweetie. It's ok."

James pulls me into him and picks me up effortlessly. Because he's James. Once again breaking the 'staying away' rule now. Jonah and Casey both take over putting everything back in the fridge for me while I  have my little breakdown. I throw my arms around his neck while James carries me over to the sectional. He gives Paul a little nod to give him the big blanket next to Paul, and Paul stands up.

 Once James is sitting down with me curled up in his lap, Paul hands him the blanket and sits back down on the other side of the couch, continuing to scroll through his phone and doing Paul things.  Casey quickly grabs the remote to shut the TV off when the news replays the latest Nate Hollan health scare.

Of course it's all over the news. All over the internet. All sorts of people commenting on Nate Hollan's health.  Online comments of people who had loved ones who died horrific deaths from having Heart failure. All of the stories were of people much much older than Nate.  None of the stories pertain to him. Smokers. Heavy drinkers who continue to drink. Obese people who live off of fast food and can barely walk up a flight of stairs. None of that is Nate. Nate is healthy. His heart isn't. 

And that breaks my heart. Which in return, breaks James's heart. So I hold on to my best friend and he tightens his arms around me like I need him to.

"It's gonna be ok." He whispers in my ear as I silently cry myself to sleep.

******

*Nate*

"What happened?"

"NATE!!" The room is in an uproar when they hear my voice.

 Listen, it's gonna take me some time to get used to not talking, ok? They really need to cut me some slack. I walk out into the main living room, done with my pathetic meeting. Jonah and Casey are... cleaning out my fridge?? Paul is being Paul doing nothing. Typical bodyguard. Trish is in my room on her laptop trying to cancel interviews and shit. 

And then... I see Julia sleeping on James, who also looks to be sleeping sitting up now with his head on the back of the couch, or at least has his eyes closed. Julia looks like a five year old little girl right now. Her hair in her face a little, her lips pouty...her eyes.....swollen? She's been crying?

I sit down next to James and he lifts his head. He was just resting, not sleeping.

[ What happened?]

 I hand James my phone, and he begins to reply while his arms are still wrapped around his best friend. My fiancé.  I figure it's easier if I can't talk for  him not to or I'll be tempted to answer.  So I want him to text me back. But he reads the message and fumbles with his hands in frustration. He can't text yet. I had forgotten. James looks normal on the outside but is still struggling on the inside, and his brain won't cooperate enough to send the signals to his hands. He frowns and hands me back my phone, looking away in embarrassment.

"I.. I can't." He says to the nothing he is looking at.

[ Sorry Gallo. I forgot. tell me what happened? Julia cried herself to sleep, didn't she?]

James reads my message and nods.

[ Just Julia being Julia or did something more happen?]

"I think the news on TV got to her. I'm not sure. This is a lot for her to handle. She just started cleaning out the fridge... but not in a calm way, and then broke down."

[ Cleaning out the fridge? Like in an OCD way?]

James nods, and then I nod. She's done this before. When she gets nervous or overwhelmed, she will hyperfocus on one thing and do it over and over again. She was probably wiping down the same shelf multiple times, and no one noticed until she began to cry.

This is Julia being Julia when things are overwhelming.  Dickhead Donovan explained it to me in the very beginning. God I HATE how good of a doctor he is. How he knew her symptoms and how to deal with them right as they happened. 

 But he had to fuck it all up and now poor Jules is the one who has to pay for it. Melanie is a good therapist but she's not Jeremy. He's smart. Real smart. Genius smart and knows what he's talking about. He was the only one in the US who cracked the code on Eric Furgeson. It was too late and Jeremy was too young- fresh out of Harvard. By the time anyone took him seriously and his voice was heard, Furgeson hung himself.

Donovan had to go and screw it all up though, didn't he? He had to fuck around with Julia. He just couldn't resist whatever obsession he has with her and now Jules pays the price. Because she could really use a good therapist right now to help her cope with this news  about my health.

And Jeremy Donovan seems to be the only one who can really help her with that.

I drop my head back on the couch in frustration and close my eyes. James does the same, almost like he was thinking the same exact thing I was.

"Hey, Paulie. I need to run home and get a few things in order. Sorry to interrupt you're.... whatever your doing...." Trisha comes into the living room and pulls the bodyguard up off the couch.

"That's fine. I also have to go to the Marriott to get some things in order before our tour."

"Who will take over? It was always me." James asks. I sometimes forget he had this inside job with Paul and the 4th floor. James was the one to check celebrities in and out for Paul while they sneak up through the back door to get to their room.

"Will. He's good. He's been helping out while you recover. Your job will still be waiting for you when you're ready." Paul answers.

Will James ever be ready though? He couldn't text me. How the hell will he use computers and do his job at the hotel? He's not nearly ready. I hope Will is in it for the long run because we rely on that floor. All of us celebrities who live in L.A. do. James's inside job was a big one.

 Trisha and Paul head out just as Julia starts to wake up. Perfect timing. Trisha isn't great when it comes to Julia and her mental health. Nothing against her, she's just not very sensitive.

Which has me worried about those two together for long periods of time. 

Like a year on tour..

******