“Six eight nine two,” Dex reluctantly replies.
“My birthday,” I smile, punching in the numbers. “You’re so sentimental.”
“I’m not kidding around,” he replies. “What are you doing out there? The tour just got started, the band won’t be back for months.”
“I’m housesitting for you.” I wander through the huge living room to the expanse of windows on the far wall. Floor-to-ceiling glass, nothing interrupting the perfect view of the bay. I lift the latch and slide one door open, savoring the salty tang of the ocean breeze as I step out onto the wide back desk. There are loungers and a table, and below, the pool sits under a bright blue cover, with a white gate leading straight out onto the sand. Not for the first time, I think how having a rock star for a brother comes with serious perks.
“I don’t need a house-sitter,” Dex grumbles.
“Having a place like this sit empty is a crime. Besides,” I add, softer, “I needed some space. Time to figure things out.”
“Couldn’t you do that somewhere closer to home?” Dex’s voice turns worried. “I don’t like to think of you out there, all on your own. What if something happens?”
I stifle a hollow laugh. The worst has already happened. After last year, it’s all kittens and rainbows from here on out. And compared to LA, staying at my brother’s beach house in a sleepy North Carolina town is about the most innocent place in the world I could be right now.
Miles from my past. Far from the memories hiding around around every street corner, reminding me of everything I wish I could forget.
I look out at the ocean, glittering blue and green in the sinking sun, and feel a strange sense of peace wash over me. This is my clean slate, my chance to start fresh.
“I know you’re just trying to look out for me,” I tell Dex carefully. “But can you trust me, please? I need this. I can’t explain why, but, it’s going to be good for me. I can tell.”
There’s a long pause, and I can just picture him weighing my words. People assume a rock-star is going to be reckless and wild, but Dex knows better than anyone what I’ve been through—and why trusting me is such a tall order right now.
“I promise, I’ll check in every day if you want,” I add, feeling a pang of guilt. I can’t blame him for worrying about me, I’ve caused them all enough heartache and stress this year. “Twice a day. Between you and Ash and Blake, I won’t be alone.”
Dex sighs. “Fine, but take care of yourself, OK? And if you’re not feeling good—”
“I’ll call,” I promise. “But please, don’t stress. You need to focus on the tour, and Alicia. Just promise me you won’t elope,” I add pointedly.Dex laughs. “When we get hitched, you’ll all be there.”
“So that’s a when, not if…” I tease.
“No comment,” Dex says gruffly. “Anyway, I’ve got to run to sound check. You sure you’re OK?”
“I’m sure. Go, good luck tonight.”
“Love you.”
Dex hangs up, and I cradle the phone to my chest, wondering if I’m lying to him—or myself. The past few months I’ve kept myself busy, so I haven’t had a chance to really think. To feel. I was scared of what would happen when I turned the volume down on the world, so I’ve bounced between my best friend’s place and my various brothers’, focusing hard on the details of their lives so I didn’t need to look at my own.
Now I’m here, finally alone.
I watch the waves break, listen to the birds call and the rustle of the wind in the trees. For the first time I can remember, I’ve got no plans. Nobody else. Just me.
And that feels okay.
A text from Dex comes through. “I mean it: CALL!”
I smile, imagining him rushing off to the venue to get their sound mix and set-up just right. Usually, I’d be there with him. For years, I was a backstage fixture, standing guard against crazed groupies and fame-hungry industry folks; advising them on set lists and costumes. Their honorary manager, some of the guys would jokingly call me. This tour is the big one: a massive reunion, after a year away. He invited me along too, but I found myself turning him down. As much as I loved life on the road, I can’t do it now without thinking of everything that happened. I showed up for the Vegas gig to wave them off, but that was it.
Vegas…
In a flash, I see the stranger from the Bellagio in my mind: dark eyes, that cocky, charming grin. I remember the way his hand cradled my cheek so softly—and the fire in his kiss that set my whole body ablaze.
A guy like him is trouble—the last thing you need. Haven’t you learned anything by now?
I shake off the memory, and go bring the rest of my stuff in from the car. There are half a dozen bedrooms to choose from, but I pick the one up in the loft overlooking the ocean. It’s the smallest, but it feels like I’m tucked away safe at the top of the world: just a simple bed dressed with crisp white linens, a low, mid-century dresser, and a view to die for. It doesn’t take me long to unpack, and soon I’m back downstairs taking stock of the rest of the house.
I have to hand it to my brother, he knows how to create a gorgeous home. It’s all open-plan, sleek lines and sea breeze: nothing to distract from the view. I check the kitchen, and find the cabinets and fridge almost empty, so I try to make a list of the things I’ll need for my stay. Food, toiletries, some of the clothes and makeup I forgot in my hasty packing… I just want to relax after the epic ten hours I just spent on the road, but I’m not sure how late anything stays open in a place like this, so I grab my keys and get back behind the wheel of my prize ’65 Mustang.