The Broken Road - A Zac Efron Novel (18+)

Chapter 77 - Curtain Call

It's never good news when you get a phone call at 5 o'clock in the morning. I fumbled around in the dark, trying to find my cell phone on the nightstand. My vision was blurred and I rubbed my eyes, begging them to focus as I answered a call from Jason, Zac's manager.

"Hello?" I said.

"We have a problem," he started. I shot straight up in bed, my mind still groggy, as Jason filled me in on the horrid details.

Despite me begging Zac not to go to Vegas, he did. Things obviously spiraled out of control at some point, because there was over $50,000 in damages to his hotel suite. The press had the story and was ready to run with it.

That morning, I paid a truly obscene amount of money to catch and kill the story of Zac's Vegas debauchery, making sure it never saw the light of day. And then I paid $75,000 to reserve a room for Zac at a 90-day inpatient rehab facility in Tennessee, one of the best in the country.

All I cared about was saving Zac, even if it meant sacrificing our relationship to do it.

After thinking about it for days after my therapy session, I knew I couldn't continue living my life constantly wondering if he was off getting high or wasted any time he wasn't with me. It was mentally and emotionally draining. I had enough.

But, as I sat and re-wrote all of the reasons why I loved Zac, I also knew I'd never be able to let him go.  The love I had for him, and the love I knew he had for me...it was the type of love people wished for their entire lives and few ever got to experience.  It was worth giving Zac one more chance.

By the time he got home from the airport, my bags were packed and sitting inside of the front door. I didn't know yet if they were staying or going – that would be his choice.

"What's all this?" he said as he set his bag down and took off his coat, leaving his sunglasses on.

"Why don't you come sit down," I said as I walked to the couch in his living room and took a seat.

"What's going on?" he asked as joined me, casually sitting on the worn leather sofa - having no idea what kind of bomb I was about to drop on him.

I let out a long sigh.  I didn't want to let Zac go.  I didn't want to face the truth of what our relationship had become.  Doing so forced me to face the reality I may not have Zac in my life forever.

"What happened the other night? When I called you...you sounded like you were drunk.  Were you?"

"What?!" he asked as he shot up from his seat, offended by the insinuation.

"Please don't lie to me," I begged him as I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back down.

"I wasn't," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Were you high?"

"What is with the third degree?! You're acting crazy," he said, raising his voice.

I remembered back to the night of the Golden Globes and how badly those same words stung me then.

"What about in Vegas? Did you get high when you were in Vegas?"

"You are fucking nuts, you know that? Is this some sort of residual pregnancy hormones or something? They're messing with your mind."

My jaw dropped when he said it. It was, by far, the cruelest thing he could have said to me in that moment. It would have been so much easier, less painful, if he would have just slapped me across the face.

"Take off your sunglasses," I said.  My voice was frigid.

"You know, I think you need some time to calm down.  I don't know what's going on with you, but you're acting crazy."