A Thousand Glittering Lights

Chapter 1

She could do it.She could walk across the paving and climb into her shiny black mini. She could drive down to the sea, dig her feet into the sand, and enjoy the pale spring sunshine. There would be freedom and movement. Salt in the air. People to talk to.

Light flashed on metal. Diesel fumes and the stink of hot tires on tarmac burned her nostrils. She screamed as she flew over the handlebars, the merciless road hurtling toward her. Pain exploded.

Ellie stepped back unconsciously before bumping into the door behind her and realizing she was going the wrong way. She stopped. Took a breath. And made herself move forward once more. One foot after the other.

Sunshine filtered through the spring leaves, dappling the neat paving, but the splashes of light and dark churned uneasily. She kept going. Her keys were still in her hand. Her breaths were shallow and aching, but she took them. Every day, she took a few more steps. Today would be no different.

If only she didn’t have to do it all alone.

Maybe she should bring Nissy with her? Ellie glanced back at her cottage. Nissy was sitting in her usual window, daintily washing her ginger-and-cream striped paw and enjoying her favorite sunbeam. She definitely didn’t want to be bundled into her cat carrier and put in the car. She wouldn’t approve, even if she was free to ride shotgun up front with Ellie.

A vision of Nissy wearing driving goggles and a short scarf that flapped in the wind as she sat primly on the passenger seat rose in Ellie’s mind. She snorted a little hysterically; Nissy would not be impressed. And she’d only just forgiven Ellie for abandoning her at the cat-sitter while she was in hospital.

Still, a spark of warmth rekindled in Ellie’s chest. She wasn’t alone. She had Nissy. She had friends. She had the glorious, creative, inspiring community she was slowly building. She could do this.

Ellie opened the car door, climbed inside, and pressed the Start button. The car turned on immediately, the electric engine turning over almost silently—too silently. She turned on the radio, but the upbeat indie rock of her favorite station grated, and she turned it back off.

Opening the window helped. The sound of birds singing and an airplane buzzing in the distance filtered in to keep her company as she rolled forward.

She paused at her gate to check her narrow country lane. It was empty as usual. Her little lane wasn’t the problem. The problem was the much busier road she’d reach in a few minutes. Crowded and twisting, it took its travelers—commuters and tourists from the seaside towns—back and forth to London.

Yesterday she’d made it to the gate. Today, she would go farther.

Movement in her rearview mirror caught her attention, and she paused to check behind her. What had she seen? A shadow had moved. Hadn’t it?

She scanned the area carefully before huffing at herself. There was nothing out of place. God, she was jumpy.

Ellie crawled along the dirt lane, reached the main road, and stopped. She took a breath. She was ready to face this demon. She wiped her damp palms on her thighs before taking hold of the wheel once more, and then moved her foot to the accelerator. It was time?—

A cyclist came around the forested corner. The rider flew down the hill, hurtling too fast down the center of the narrow road. Light glinted off their bicycle, and their short hair blew wildly. They weren’t wearing a helmet. God.

Ellie froze, nausea rising swiftly. She could still feel the crunch of metal. The uncontrolled horror of knowing she was in the air. The sickening thud. And something about the helmet. Something scratched at her brain. Something terrible. Something important.

She clung to the steering wheel, trembling, eyes hot and prickling, swallowing acid and battling with herself. It was just one cyclist. They were gone. She’d made it farther than ever before. She could keep going. Panic attacks weren’t new to her. She’d had them before. She’d survived them before.

She rested her forehead on the wheel and concentrated on finding the safe place in her mind. Pausing there, trying to be kind to herself. Did she have to face all her terror today? Or could she take the win?

Yes. She could take this win. Tomorrow, she would try again.

The nausea receded as the heavy weight of fear lifted. Ellie reversed until she could safely turn and drive slowly back to her driveway. Her breathing settled as she parked and climbed out of the car. Now, with her back to the gate, she could focus on the roses and clematis sprawling up the cottage walls and appreciate the forest spreading around her property. She could take another, slower, deeper breath. The earth smelled of growing things, of sweet pea flowers and sunshine on green leaves.

Nissy had finished grooming and was dozing, amber eyes half shut. She looked warm and content. Of course, she’d chosen to sit exactly two inches to the side of the special floating cat bed Ellie had spent an entire day watching YouTube videos to build for her.

When Ellie first brought her home from the shelter two years ago, she’d been scrawny and skittish, meowing, yowling, and complaining all day. Now that she was happily settled, she preferred chirping her demands, and mostly expected to be treated like a princess without stooping to make requests in the first place. She was taking her time to decide whether the new bed was worthy of her, but she’d always adored that sunbeam.

They had that in common. They both loved curling up in a sunbeam. But somehow, unlike Nissy, Ellie’d found herself caught up in more and more obligations and responsibilities, and fewer and fewer sunbeams. There was always just one more thing to do. Something she might miss or get wrong. So she’d worked harder.

And then she’d nearly died and lost it all.

Ellie lifted her hand to rest it on the solid wood of the door. It was smooth and warm from the sunshine. The cottage was still here. Nissy was still here. She was still here. And tomorrow, she would go just a little farther.

She made her way inside closing the door behind her, dropped her keys in the bowl on the hallway table and, as she did, she raised her eyes to the large mirror on the wall.

A huge, scowling man stood behind her.

Her body flooded with fear. A rough scream caught in her throat. There was no time to run. Nowhere to escape—he was right behind her. He was between her and the door.

Panic returned in a rush as shock and dread coiled around her. Could she reach for her keys? Could she use them as a weapon? Should she fight? God.

She froze, caught by the churning terror, with no idea of how to save herself.

But he didn’t move. He stood as still as she did, and even more silently. Watching her in the mirror as she watched him.

He was tall, several inches taller than her, and his dark hair was tousled, as if he’d been out in the wind or run his hand through it many times. A rough beard covered his jaw, with a small gap where a scar cut through the top of his lip.

Her gaze traveled over his face until their reflected eyes met. His were a clear ocean blue, bracketed by tiny lines, full of some unreadable emotion… and utterly focused on her.

Ellie jolted. She didn’t know him at all. But somehow, they were connected. Awareness thrummed between them, twisting and curling in the space between their bodies. And she would have sworn he felt it too. His frown grew deeper, his eyes darker. His gaze held her locked in place.

He saw her. And she saw him. She saw his brooding intensity. His look of grim severity—as if he had swallowed all his pain and grief and longing and turned it into flinty defiance—him against the world.

Her hand reached out toward the mirror as if she could touch him there. Insanely, stupidly, somehow without her thought or control. “Who are you?” she whispered.

He shook his head. Just one tiny motion. But then he lifted his hand toward her and took a deliberate step closer. It was enough to release her from her strange captivity, and she spun to face him. To face the danger head on. But her hallway was empty.

He was gone.