Chapter 13
I drive through the open gates of Haze’s property and see one of the black SUVs parked in front and a shiny new Harley next to it.
Memories of the adventures I once shared with Asher flood my mind. We both got our motorcycle licenses together, but our publicist wasn’t too keen on me being seen as a biker girl. Both the label and Oliver were concerned about the kind of image that would reflect the clean teenage pop lifestyle they wanted me to maintain. So I kept my bike at his, and we’d ride late at night or early in the morning, cruising along the SR1 all the way up to Santa Barbara. We’d stop at Point Dune on the way back to watch the sunrise.
Just me and Asher, back when things were good between us. It was one of the carefree things I did, and I loved those moments with him.
Storm hops out fast as soon as I open the back door of my truck, and he whines lightly to grab my attention. I shut the door and see him facing the gates.
“You need the toilet, big guy?”
He responds with a wag of his tail. His therapist said to keep him moving as long as he wants, so I lead the way out the gate and attach a leash to him as we’re both still unfamiliar with this area.
We explore the neighborhood together at a leisurely pace. My guess is that Storm’s had a sudden jolt of energy from his therapy and doesn’t want to use it indoors. Fine by me, after that strange encounter I had outside the café earlier, maybe I need to work off some pent-up energy myself.
Storm leads the way through the tree-lined street. We pass the manicured lawns and elegant homes in this idyllic area. Back when New York and then later Los Angeles was my home, I never really paid much attention to the neighborhoods I lived in. Going from living my whole life in two metropolitan cities to the middle of the Mojave Desert was definitely a shock but it provided me the solace and isolation I sought to have.
As Storm and I traverse the slightly curving streets here, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of mature trees, and the sunlight filters through the canopies, casting a warm glow on the sidewalks. Neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds line the front yards of the well-maintained houses, each displaying a unique blend of architectural styles.
I don’t miss this life in the slightest, not these pretty tree-lined streets with the scent of blooming flowers, nor seeing the occasional jogger or parent pushing a stroller on the sidewalk. The comfort and seclusion of baren land, void of human presence, is the kind of landscape I want to live in.
This current lifestyle among people isn’t for me anymore and hasn’t been for almost a decade. Brittney once said I’ll be ready to move back one day because the desert isn’t a permanent habitat for anyone with a sane mind.
But what if it is for me? What if I enjoy living a zillion miles from civilization and, once in a blue moon, emerge to see if the world still stands?
Is that weird?
My attention is drawn to the white fence of someone’s property that faces the road. It’s not so much the fence that draws in my shock but the spray-painted image. I pull Storm to stop on his leash to observe it closer and realize the symbol is of a similar one I have tattooed on my upper ribs, just beside my left breast.
It’s a Unalome symbol that I inked on my skin a few years ago. It symbolizes my journey of overcoming the trauma I went through and learning to live again.
But here, this random spray-painted image on someone’s fence seems off. It’s not the exact design, but it’s enough to catch my attention and add some cause for concern. I raise my hand to dab my finger over it, but it’s dry. So it wasn’t painted just now.
I glance to my left and right but am unsure what or who I’m looking for. This could be a coincidence, but I can”t help the eerie feeling and the shiver running up my spine. Instinctively I decide to leave this road and quicken my pace.
“Come on, big boy. You gotta find your spot to squat; otherwise, you’ll have to use a doggie mat because Haze doesn’t want dog poo in his garden.”
Storm sighs as if not liking the idea.
“It’s not like Haze ever uses his garden anyway.”
A sudden thought springs to mind, and I take my phone from my back pocket.
“Catalina.”
“Hello, darling. It”s nice to finally hear from you. How is everything?”
“Everything’s good. I was wondering if you’d like to visit me in LA?”
“What’s going on, Eden?” Catalina never wastes bullshit on small talk.
“I need someone to take care of Storm while I’m here recording the demos.”
“Do you want to bring him back home?”
“No, I prefer him with me here. But maybe you can come and stay at Brittney’s place. I’d have to ask, but I think it should be okay. There’s only five rooms at Haze’s, and I’m in the fifth one, so there’s no room—”
“I thought you weren’t going to stay there?” Catalina cuts me off fast, seemingly alarmed.
“I wasn’t, but I took your advice. Maybe it”s not safe to be here, but at least living in a house with four men is safer.”
I don’t end that sentence with a question mark, but there is one in my head.
“Hmpff. Safe. My ass. You know well that wasn’t the advice I gave you.” I know she doesn’t like them as much as Brittney doesn’t either.
“So far, they’ve been nothing but gentlemen. They want this demo. That’s all.”
“And you want to stay there while I’m at Brittney’s? Darling, it makes no sense.”
Catalina constantly questions my actions, but for the last fourteen years, I’ve never felt that it was necessary to answer her. She’s my hired help, and I love her tremendously, but I always felt too independent to need parenting.
“Can’t you just come without making a fuss?” I say with a sense of urgency that’s probably more rude than anything. “I’d think you might enjoy some time out of the desert,” I add, hoping to lighten the situation.
“I’m more worried about you with those men. I don’t trust them and their intentions.”
“Then don’t trust them. I’ll text you a message when Brittney gives the all clear.”
I end the call as I step off the curb to cross the street. Storm pulls me abruptly, and a car comes speeding past. The pull of my dog is powerful enough for me to stumble on the curb and go crashing backward to the sidewalk.
I hear wheels screeching and a vehicle speeding off.
What the fuck? Storm is barking like crazy and breaks free as he chases the car. I get up and start screaming at him to come back.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Storm! Come back! Storm!” I’m yelling and shouting, and as he slows down, probably realizing his old legs got the better of him, I grab the leash attached to him.
“What the fuck, Storm?” I say, trying to catch my breath. He’s never disobeyed my demands.
But what the fuck just happened?
I was nearly run over, but he saved me. Perhaps I was distracted by the phone call and didn’t see the car as I stepped onto the street. But I hardly expected some warped speeding vehicle in this otherwise tranquil neighborhood.
“Come on, we’re going home.”
Just before I turn, I gaze at the corner road ahead and stop dead in my tracks as I see a car slowly pull out.
I didn’t catch the car color or make it earlier as I was in the middle of trying not to break my tailbone and struggling to understand what happened, but I think it was dark, just like this one now.
It almost hesitates at the corner as if it’s waiting.
Not wanting to wait around, I quicken my pace back to the house with my senses on high alert. The soft rustle of leaves that seemed tranquil earlier have now morphed into hushed whispers, playing tricks on my nerves. I fumble with my keys, then position them between my fingers in case I need to protect myself. Glancing over my shoulder every five seconds into the shadows of the wild trees and shrubs that seem to stretch and contort, concealing potential threats.
The eerie silence amplified the rhythmic thud of my heart as we finally reach the property gates. The sight of the house offers a little solace, and I glance back once more.
A flicker of movement in the bushes across the gates catches my eye, and my breath catches in my throat. A barely discernible silhouette stands by the side of the metal dumpster opposite the road.
Panic surges through my veins. I pull hard at the dog leash as Storm barks at whatever’s there. I hold tight this time as fear grips me and dash straight through the gates, dragging Storm with me.
I jump with fright, seeing Callum out front having a smoke.
“You alright, luv?” he asks as he stubs out his cigarette and follows me through the already-opened front door.
“Close the door and lock it,” I demand without looking at him.
My heart’s still pounding, and maybe the fear etched on my face still lingers.
He grabs my forearm and grips it tight.
“I asked you a question.”
I finally look up at him, and he sees my anxiety.
“I thought I saw someone following me, and they were standing opposite the big dumpster across the street.”
Without a second thought, he dashes unexpectedly outside. I let Storm free from his leash inside the house and chase Callum out.
He reaches the street and runs around the dumpster, frantically looking around.
“If someone was here, they’re gone now.”
We both hear a rustle behind a large, overgrown shrub, and he runs towards it without an ounce of fear. He’s a pretty fast runner, and as soon as I approach his back, he abruptly turns and smashes straight into me.
For a second time, I find myself in an uncontrollable episode where I’m crashing to the ground, except an arm reaches out and wraps around my body, pulling me up before I reach the tarmac.
“Sorry, luv,” Callum apologizes as he brings me upwards, and I smash into his chest.
Rather than pull back, I stay there. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t attempt to pull back either, and we remain like this for something that seems like an eternity. Our bodies against each other and our faces so close, I can smell his aftershave and the sweet tobacco. Actually, it doesn’t even smell like tobacco. More like something sweet and herbally, like sage.
Is it herbal cigarettes that Callum smokes?
That’s beside the point right now because I’m one step away from what I think we might do, and maybe I want him to do it.
I actually know I want Callum Evans to kiss me.
A moment passes between us as I stare into his bright sky-blue eyes, and then my gaze drops to his plump lips, and wonder what it would be like to kiss him with that silver ring that sits smack in the middle of his lower lip.
He’s the first to come out of the trance we’re both in, and he loosens his grip on me. He doesn’t let go until I pull myself a little away.
I’m not sure what transpired between us, but it was mutual. I could feel the same vibes coming from him.
“Can we go back inside and pretend my mind didn’t just make up this scenario because of the crazed fan I met earlier?”
His eyes furrow and the subtle tightening of his jaw betrays his concern. He discreetly scans our surroundings as we walk back to the property grounds.
“What crazed fan?” his voice is low but laced with genuine worry.
So, I tell him about the incident in Brittney’s car, and he doesn’t need to say anything to confirm his unspoken concern.
We don’t talk as we re-enter the house. I walk ahead, and he calls out to me.
“Eden,” I turn to face him, and I’m almost blown away by the caring look he gives me. For Christ’s sake, this man is beyond gorgeous, and I need to get out of this room and away from him for fear that I might be falling for him again. “You’re safe with us. We’ll always make sure your safety comes first.”
Without further words, I quickly run upstairs to my bedroom, desperate to escape from him and the feelings that are suddenly developing.
Re-developing.
I’m so fucked.