What This Could Be- Joe Jonas Fanfic

Chapter 31: Was This Worth It?

*Taylor's POV*

I peered around the corner at the sound of a door slam shut. Pri stood up, asking if I could watch the kids for a minute, before walking towards the alarming sound.

I tried my best to distract them from whatever was going on, concentrating on the toys and blabbing about the alphabet, numbers, animal sounds, and even singing, which is something I rarely did if it weren't with loud music and dancing.

"Hey, have you spoken to Joe today?" Pri knelt down next to me and whispered.

"Yeah, we were outside talking not long ago," I answered before walking to the sliding glass door to the outside, seeing nothing but our plates on the couch where we had sat at.

Rushing to our guest room, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and called Joe.

One ring.

Two ring.

Three ring. Cmon, Joe.

Four ring. Pick up the goddamn phone.

Voicemail.

I called again. And again. And again.

Each time it ended on his voicemail.

"I can't reach him," I said to Nick, who was also repeatedly calling him.

He let out a big sigh of frustration, "Okay. If he doesn't come back in at the most fifteen minutes, I'll drive around myself. But please do us a favor. Try not to let our parents worry. Especially our mom. The last thing I want is for her to have another stroke."

"Okay," I agreed. It could be nothing except for our already-worried minds playing tricks on us.

We fiddled with our thumbs watching the time like a hawk, counting the minutes since Joe left with a bang. Literally.

Giving him an extra ten-minute grace period, Nick stood up and grabbed a set of keys that had been hanging on the key rack next to the door to the garage, "Remind me to kill him when we get back."

As he opened the door, there stood Joe with a bunch of plastic bags in his hands.

"I told you I'd be right back," Joe quipped, walking past Nick. His cheeks were a rosy color that only changed if he had either been crying or overexerted himself in the sun.

He put the majority of the bags on the island in the middle of the kitchen and took the rest with him to our guest room.

I followed him, closing the door behind us, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he smiled, setting the bags down by his suitcase. I wasn't sure if he was faking it for me or himself.

"Bullshit," I crossed my arms, "You haven't been okay. I know you."

He sighed and placed his hands on my waist, "I'm just really tired."

That I believed.

"I'm fine," he gave me a kiss before pulling away, plugging his phone in to charge, "Can I just take a nap?"

I nodded, giving him his space by closing the door behind me quietly. I saw the light turn off from the crack under the door, assuring me that all he needed was some sleep.

Hours went by and Joe still hadn't appeared from the bedroom. Denise, his mom, checked on him earlier in the day around dinner, leaving him a plate of food. I debated on checking in on him a few times, but I wanted to believe it was the same as yesterday. He just needed the sleep.

By the time night hit, Nick, Franklin, Pri, and I made our way to the pool patio. It was grandparent duty on putting the kids to bed in the remaining guest room. I pulled my phone out and texted Joe to come outside, hoping it might wake him up.

Setting it down on the table, I leaned over to Nick, "Do you think I should wake him? He seemed excited earlier about tonight."

As he was about to answer, something behind me distracted him. I followed his gaze, seeing a stumbling Joe emerge.

"Well, well, well," Joe exclaimed sloppily, "Look at you all being a happy little family without me."

"Is he—?" I started to ask Nick.

"Drunk. Yes," he confirmed before pushing him to the side.

I couldn't make out what they were talking about, but it was evident by their tones that Nick was pissed and Joe was too drunk to have a functional conversation.

Pressing my face in my hands, I beat myself up for leaving him alone. I knew he wasn't okay. I realized then what was actually in those bags he took into the room with him. Cheap, potent alcohol.

Franklin ran to Joe's side, holding him up and walking him to the couch while Nick rushed inside. "Hey, man. Drinking without me? That's no fun," Franklin joked, trying to lighten the heaviness in the air.

"Drank them all. Oops," his body decided to lie down on his back, his eyes weighing down with droopy eyelids and face completely flushed.

I turned to face him, "How many bottles did you drink, Joe?"

He shrugged, "Mm'dunno."

Glancing back up, I realized I never actually knew the intimidation side of Nick as he walked back out straight to Joe, his eyes locked on him.

"What the fuck, Joe?" he gritted his teeth as he leaned down to Joe's eye level, "Why the fuck would you get this drunk knowing you have your girls?"

"They don't need me," he stammered, waving his hand in front of him to try to give himself space from Nick.

Nick didn't budge. If anything, he got closer to his face, "Oh really? Because Del is asking for her daddy right now because she just woke up from a bad nightmare, and you know what I have to do? Make up an excuse for your drunk fucking ass as to why you can't comfort her tonight. So tell me, was this worth it?"

I closed my eyes, my heart breaking in this moment. This wasn't Joe. And judging by his family's reactions, they knew it wasn't him either.

"I hope you have the worst fucking hangover in your life," Nick seethed, his face already turning red from anger building up, before leaving Franklin and I to tend to Joe while he and Pri took care of Delphine and the other girls who may have woken up as well by the commotion.

Franklin helped me carry Joe to our room, then collected the necessary items Joe would need— a bottle of water, Nuun tablets, Advil, crackers, and a small trash bin on his side of the bed.

"Thank you," I hugged him, "I got it from here."

I closed the door behind him and slid next to Joe under the covers. "Babe, why? Why did you decide to get drunk?" I ran my fingers in his hair, brushing it away from his clammy face as he faced away from me on his side.

"You'd get mad if I told you," he murmured, his mouth slightly sunken into his pillow, muffling his words that were almost already hard to understand.

"Try me," I knew he'd be more receptive under the influence to blurt out without thinking it through, but sometimes that was what needed to be said to get to the truth without sugarcoating it.

"Sophie," he replied, closing his eyes.

I slowly withdrew my touch, "What about her? Do you still love her or what?"

"I always love her," he responded before letting out a groan and readjusting himself, turning over in my direction.

I didn't want to look at his face. I lied down, wiping away the lone tear that decided to make an appearance, and faced away from him. I loved the Joe I knew earlier, the man I've been with for months traveling the country with. Not this Joe.