Chapter 6
Chapter Six
A s his last song in the hour-long set came to an end, the guests erupted into applause, but he barely heard it. His gaze drifted over the crowd, searching for the one person he wanted to see. His chest tightened slightly when he spotted Dylan sitting quietly near the edge of the large room.
She wasn’t clapping.
She was just watching him.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt like someone was seeing more than just the famous man on stage.
When their eyes locked, he stilled, realizing the sad look in her eyes wasn’t because of his lyrics.
He saw her blink once, twice, then she jumped up and made a beeline towards the doors.
“That’s it for me tonight, but don’t worry,” he said as the crowd booed, “the band still has plenty of songs left in them and will get things moving and shaking.” He set down the guitar. “Kick it up a notch,” he told the guys, and quickly exited the stage.
To avoid the many well-wishers and fans, he sidestepped through the kitchen and exited through the back door, circling around the building in search of Dylan.
He found her sitting on a swing near what appeared to be the smoking area.
“Need a light?” he asked, sitting next to her.
“I don’t smoke. You?” She glanced at him and then set the swing moving.
“Nope.” He sighed and glanced up at the stars. “Nice night.” She remained quiet. “Was I that bad?” he asked, sparing a glance at her.
She stopped the swing and turned towards him, a questioning look on her face.
“You left pretty fast,” he pointed out.
“The room was stuffy.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Right.” He set the swing moving again. “It’s funny, after my third album, I stopped worrying if people would enjoy my new songs.”
Dylan tilted her head slightly, studying him in that way that made him feel like she was peeling back layers he hadn’t even realized he had. “Why?”
He exhaled, watching a cloud shift in front of the moon, dimming its light for a moment.
“Because at some point, you stop chasing approval. You realize you’ll never please everyone, so you stop trying.
” He shrugged. “I wrote that new song for them.” He nodded towards the reception, where the sound of laughter and music still drifted through the night.
“But if they’d hated it, I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. ”
She held his gaze for a long moment before shifting her focus back to the sky. “That’s an interesting way of looking at things.”
Abe shrugged. “You don’t agree?”
She gave him a half shrug. “I think people tell themselves they don’t care what others think, but deep down, everyone does. At least a little.”
“Even you?” he challenged.
Her lips quirked, and she shrugged slightly, but she didn’t answer.
A comfortable silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the wedding festivities. The night air was cool, carrying the salty scent of the ocean.
He glanced at her, the way the wind teased a loose strand of hair across her face, the way she sat calm, collected, unreadable. She intrigued him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I may not really care what others think about my set, but I really want to know what you think,” he admitted
She hesitated, as if weighing her words. “Everyone seemed to enjoy it.”
He grinned. “That’s not an answer.”
She sighed. “Fine. It was good.” She gave him a side-eye. “Very good.”
He leaned back, setting the swing in motion again. “I’ll take that compliment.”
She shook her head, amusement flickering in her eyes before she glanced away.
For the first time in a long while, Abe wasn’t worried about the crowd waiting for him inside or the guests who’d want autographs or pictures with him. Right now, all he cared about was sitting here, in the quiet, with the one person who didn’t seem to give a damn who he was.
For some reason, that felt more important than anything else.
He let the silence hang for a moment, the steady sway of the swing matching the rhythm of the waves in the distance. He turned towards her slightly, catching the curve of her profile in the moonlight.
“You always this hard to impress?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
She smirked, not looking at him. “Only when someone’s trying really hard to impress me.”
“Damn,” he said with a soft laugh. “I thought I was being subtle.”
“Oh, you’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.”
He leaned in a little, his shoulder brushing hers. “Good thing I like a challenge.”
That earned him a glance that was sharp but not unkind. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that tonight.” She shook her head quickly. “Do you flirt with everyone who doesn’t fawn over you?”
He hated knowing that he had used the same line as the blond man who had been obviously flirting with Dylan at the bar.
“Nope,” he said, eyes locked on hers now. “Just the ones I want to get to know.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, a couple of people turned on the pathway and headed towards them.
“There you are!” a loud voice called, followed by the shuffle of heels on gravel. “Abe! We were wondering where you snuck off to.”
He tensed slightly as two very drunk women in cocktail dresses approached, smiling too widely at him. One clutched her phone like it was a backstage pass.
Dylan shifted beside him, and he felt the magic moment fracture.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the taller one said, her gaze darting from him to Dylan and back. “But could we get a quick photo? My mom is going to freak when she sees it.”
Abe stood slowly, offering a polite smile even as he glanced down at Dylan. “Give me one sec?”
She nodded slightly, that unreadable mask slipping back into place.
He stepped away, posed, signed something on one of their phone cases, and made all the right small talk, but his eyes kept drifting back to the swing.
By the time he turned around, she was already walking away, her bare shoulders catching the moonlight as she disappeared around the corner of the barn.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
The night had been perfect, until it wasn’t. And he had the sinking feeling he’d just let something real slip through his fingers.
When he went back inside, it was to even more photo and signature requests. He tried to convince everyone that the night was for Max and Juliette, but they kept surrounding him.
Finally, he broke free and, to avoid the swarm of fans, he headed up to the balcony and watched the scene from above. He enjoyed watching his friend, who was more than a little drunk and really enjoyed dancing slowly with his new wife.
He didn’t see Dylan again and wondered if she’d left after they’d chatted.
He’d agreed to help clean up after Max and Juliette drove away in the limo to head out on their two week honeymoon, so he spent until just after one in the morning loading all their presents and other items into his truck to take back to the house.
Babysitting their place while they were gone wasn’t going to be much of a hardship. He needed the seclusion and the quiet and really enjoyed the newly remodeled home.
The attached lighthouse was a great bonus.
His mind kept returning to the conversations he’d had with Dylan. The way her eyes watched him as he spoke. Not with awe, like all the other women, but with interest. It was almost as if she was assessing everything he said, like it was important. He’d never had that before.
He pulled into Max and Juliette’s gravel driveway just after one-thirty in the morning, the headlights casting long, dancing shadows over the front of the buildings. The horses were no doubt asleep in the quiet barn, and the night air was still, heavy with salt and summer.
A full moon hung in the cloudless sky. He parked near the front steps, climbed out, and took a deep breath. He stared up at the star-filled sky for a moment before he started unloading the mountain of wedding gifts.
He moved on autopilot as he stacked boxes inside the front hallway. His muscles were tired and his feet ached, but his mind was elsewhere. On Dylan. On the way she didn’t try to flatter him or appease him. Her words carried weight. He liked that.
He was setting down the last wrapped box when something inside the house shifted.
A soft creak.
A muffled footstep.
Abe froze.
He glanced towards the stairs, his heart suddenly thudding against his ribs. The light flickered above him as he stepped towards the sound.
He hadn’t been quiet before, so if someone was in there, they knew he was there.
Inside, the old house was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock in the entryway.
A second noise, upstairs this time. Light. Quick. Like someone trying not to be heard.
He didn’t call out. He just moved silently, grabbing a fireplace poker from beside the stone hearth as he crept down the hallway towards the stairs. At the top, the hallway stretched in both directions, moonlight streaming in from a window at the end.
For a split second, he thought he saw an old man standing under the light. Then he blinked and realized it was a painting that hung on the wall. His heart started beating again, but then there was another soft noise. Another shuffle.
He moved towards Max’s office just as a shadow darted from the spare bedroom he’d been staying in. He froze for a split second, then followed suit as the figure raced out of the open doorway in Max and Juliette’s bedroom.
“Hey!” he shouted, and rushed after the shadow, arriving on the deck just in time to see the figure in dark clothing sprinting across the backyard, heading for the tree line.
He cursed, leaning over the railing to try to get a better look, but the figure had disappeared into the night, swallowed by the trees and brush.
He rushed back through the house, flipping on every light and sweeping each room methodically. Nothing was missing. Nothing was out of place. Whoever it was, they hadn’t taken anything. Or maybe they hadn’t found what they were looking for.
Abe stood in the middle of the room he’d been staying in, jaw clenched. His grip on the fireplace poker had tightened without him realizing it. The adrenaline was fading, and a chill crept down his spine.
Was it just a coincidence that they had been in his room? One of the drawers to the nightstand was opened slightly. Leaning down, he opened it and instantly knew that it was the noise he’d heard, alerting him earlier.
Nothing was in there except a book he’d borrowed from Max’s library and had started reading two nights before. He looked in the other nightstand, where he kept his phone charger, his wallet when he was there, and some condoms, just in case.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he felt another shiver race down his back.
In the end, he decided not to tell Max and Juliette.
Not yet. They deserved peace on their honeymoon, not a panic.
Instead, he made a mental note to check the new security system Max had installed, and shown him how to use, first thing in the morning.
Just to be safe. But right now, he was exhausted.
Over the next half hour, he made sure the horses were okay and double-checked every window and door before crawling into bed around three in the morning.
The next day, after feeding the horses and gulping down two cups of bitter black coffee, Abe sat at Max’s desk and pulled up the camera feeds on the large monitor.
The timestamp blinked.
12:47 a.m.–2:13 a.m.
The footage was missing. Not blacked out. Not fuzzy. Just missing.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
All of the footage was just... gone. No recordings. Just a dead space.
Whoever had been inside the house knew what they were doing.
And that unsettled him more than anything else.
Was this about all the recent questions from the press about his past? He shivered. Did this have anything to do with Kara?