Chapter 5
5
Laird
The late-day sun shines like diamonds off the choppy surface of the lake.
A breeze catches me as soon as I get out of the car. I grin when I see the cabin, looking forward to the next week more than I realize. It’s been a few years, but I still have fond memories of the summers I spent here with my family.
I open the back, already breathing easier just being here. Nothing like being surrounded by nature to knock you back into your place in the universe. I’m starting to think fame went to my head without realizing it.
Refusing to make two trips to the car, I load up my arms and lug everything to the front door before dropping it, except my guitars of course. Those get special treatment. I set them inside the door and then look at the other stuff I brought, scratching my head. Nikki said everything was set up, from food to laundry, so why’d I pack this much? It looks like I’m going on tour, not to the mountains for a week.
I get everything inside and then stop to look around. It’s not a typical “cabin.” There are modern amenities—a top-of-the-line kitchen with two ovens—high ceilings, and clean lines. Somehow, my mom managed to keep it cozy and updated.
The place sits empty for half the year, so I expected a hint of must. It smells fresh instead, making me think someone was, or is, here to prepare it for my arrival.
As I move through with my bag in hand, I look around for signs of life just in case they’re still here. “Hello?” After dropping my bag in the primary bedroom, I work my way to the back of the house and look around. “Hello?”
I’m met with silence. Unsure if I like it or not, I shake my head. I’m not ready to be alone with my thoughts. Not yet. I return to the living room and connect my phone to the speakers.
Though I’m typically not a jazz guy, it feels fitting for the quiet surroundings and the last hour before sunset. Hungry and ready for a beer, I go to the fridge to discover it’s been stocked, just as promised. “Thank youuu , little sis.”
I grab a bottle of beer and pop the top off, gulping it down before dipping back in to find a snack. Nothing calls my name, so I settle for a package of berries. Not something I’d buy myself. They won’t fill me but might get me by until dinner.
I’d forgotten how relaxing it can be in nature. I brought my phone outside but haven’t picked it up once in the past hour. Even living at the beach has white noise—the waves crashing on the shore, the sound of PCH in the distance if I go out the front. The seagulls are nasty little devils that will claim your food and squawk at you if you dare to say something back.
Here, the buzz of insects and the birds above create their own music, but there are moments when there’s no sound at all, not even rustling leaves. It’s fascinating. Those details have slipped my memory, though I can still hear Nikki screaming for my mom if I dared to splash her, the way my ears clogged when swimming underwater, and the crackling of the fire when we would toast s’mores, which was almost every night we were here.
Memories that recall my happier times also recall the ones I still hide from on a regular basis . . .
Poppy’s laughter when I cracked jokes filled the room, her hazel eyes showing no fear as the needle punctured her skin while on the table in the tattoo parlor, the feel of her body tucked against mine right before we fell asleep . . .
I stand and walk toward the lake, knowing that’s the shit I need to clear from my head. The memories of my past, present, and that short time we spent together all blur as if I can hold on to them forever. I don’t want to. I can’t. I take my shoes off and then my clothes, dropping the empty bottle on the sandy beach my parents added along the edge of the lake.
I dive in, and bubbles of my last breath float to the top, but I hold myself under, trying to free myself from the memories that weigh me down. One night shouldn’t have left as many scars as it did. I know it’s not the night that did the damage. It’s the girl.
Breaking through the water, I take in a lungful of air before exhaling and floating on the surface. Arms wide, my mouth is barely above the water. I stare up at the sky as golden hour takes over.
I should have brought a wetsuit. The lake’s fucking freezing. I kick my way to shore and get out. Grabbing my clothes and the bottle, I hurry back, dumping my clothes on the floor as soon as I enter the house. I rush to the bathroom and crank the water, hoping it heats up quickly after being dormant for so long.
Steam fills the air, and I step into the tiled surround. Standing under the hot water, I let it run over me, hoping to cleanse not only my skin but also my soul. That’s what this trip is about—a fresh start.
I wash up and clean my hair before rinsing. If it did nothing else, the hot water released some tension from my shoulders. Wrapping a towel around my hips, I try to secure it, but it keeps slipping. “Fucker.” I finally get it tucked to stay and pad my way back out of the room to collect my clothes.
The sound of running water stops me just shy of the living room. The smell of flowers reaches the air around me. But the humming has me preparing to attack whoever has broken in. I peek around the corner and see a woman standing at the sink with her back to me.
Fuck.
Is she a fan?
A stalker?
The lead in my version of Misery ?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ready to grab my phone to call the police, I remember I left it out on the Adirondack chair on the front porch. Fuck me.
The blade of a knife sheens under the kitchen spotlight as the intruder starts to sharpen it. Nikki was right. This is how I’m going to die—a fan encounter gone awry.
I pin myself to the wall to stay out of sight, trying to think of all the ways she’s going to dice me up with that knife. What the fuck am I thinking? I can take her.
Peeking around again, I sum her up in one glance.
Five-four, maybe five-five on a good day .
Light blond hair in a ponytail that I could easily grab to take her down.
Fit from yoga or some shit that keeps her lean but doesn’t give her a fighting chance against an opponent. She should really add in some weights to bulk up if she’s stalking celebrities on a regular basis.
Basically, I can take her down with a hand tied behind my back. Getting tied up with her isn’t such a bad idea. Tight little ass, perky tits. If I’m being stalked, at least it’s by someone I’d fuck.
I try to free those thoughts from my head, but if the opportunity presents itself, I might not say no. It’s been a while.
Okay, so the best approach is to subdue her until the cops arrive. But I swear to God, if she says she’s my number one fan, or I find a sledgehammer hidden behind the island, I’m out of here. I’ll streak through those woods bare-ass naked until I reach town.
Barreling around the corner, I yell, “What are you doing in my house?”
“Ah!” Startled, she gasps, grabbing at her heart and turning around so fast that she slips on the rug, sending the knife flying.
Oh shit.
It clatters to the floor as I rush over to see if she survived the fall. Murder wasn’t in the plan.
Her mouth is open, her gaze to the side stuck on the large blade that landed three inches from her face. She’s alive, but by how still her chest is, she’s not breathing.
Neither am I.
“Poppy?”
The back of her head rests on the floor, and she exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh my God, you scared me. That could have been bad.” Pushing down the skirt of her dress, she sits up, tucking her legs under her, and stares up at me.
Hazel eyes as bright as the day we met.
Hair escaping the elastic trying to tame it. I remember messing it up a few times in bed.
Those lips . . . those incredible lips that didn’t just kiss my mouth but made me believe in the afterlife.
I stand there, struck by her beauty, as something awakens in my chest.
“It’s okay. I’m good.” I hear the sarcasm in her tone, but it’s the voice that gets me, the one I never thought I’d hear again. She shoots me a harsh glare. “Don’t worry, I can get up on my own. Just because you snuck up and scared the crap out of me doesn’t mean you have to help me.”
Without a word, I shove my hand out to assist her.
“Thanks,” she says, pleased as punch to take it.
I finally figure out how to swallow again as I lift her to her feet in front of me. I don’t dare blink, fearing she’ll disappear again. I can’t reckon any sense into this situation. The puzzle of our past is still missing too many pieces.
She smiles, severing something hard inside me and releasing the pressure I didn’t know I was holding. Pulling her hand back, she laughs when I keep a hold on her. “Hi,” she says, shaking it instead.
“Hi,” I finally manage.
“Are you okay?” Is that gold in the center of her eyes ? I remember more green.
“No. I—”
“I’m sorry. I should have warned you.” Her eyes dip to my chest, the slightest of lines tugging her brows together.
Just as she reaches up, I snap, “You think?” Letting her go, I step away, needing to put distance between us. My memories haven’t done her justice. She’s more beautiful than I remember. Damn. I regret never playing out a reunion scenario in my head, but being faced with it now, it wouldn’t have happened like this. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t understand.” Her eyes finally find mine again, and then she bends to pick up the knife, wielding it like a wand in front of her. “I was about to cook dinner.”
“What is happening?” She disappears from my life for years—not a word, no contact, no explanation whatsoever, but now she has the nerve to show up like I’ll just welcome her back into my life? Like she didn’t do irreparable damage the first time around, so now she’s back to finish me off?
“I was thinking pesto chicken with a side Caesar salad and some garlic bread.” Still swinging that blade around, she rattles on like she’s making any sense. “I didn’t know how hungry you’d be. It’s simple but a classic and always so good. You like pesto, don’t you? I didn’t see it on the list of dietary restrictions.”
Catching her wrist, I take the knife from her and set it on the counter. “You should be more careful.”
A jerk of her head is followed by offense coloring her cheeks. “I’m always careful.”
“I could argue otherwise.”
She raises an eyebrow and plants her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I offend you?” I turn and walk away.
“Actually, you did.”
Snatching my clothes that somehow made it from the floor to the arm of the couch, I start back toward the bedroom. My sole mission is to get out of here. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not staying here any longer, especially when she looks at me like a stranger.
“Your phone is on the island.”
I stop, gritting my teeth so I don’t say something I’ll regret, though I’m not sure if it matters if I add another to the mountain rivaling Everest. I turn to retrieve it, restraining myself from making eye contact. I can’t. I don’t have a clue why she’s here, but I’m not in the right headspace to deal with her. As soon as I grab the phone from the counter, I’m heading back in the other direction.
“No apology?” she asks, somehow managing to twist this around like I’m the bad guy.
My feet stop without my permission. Keeping my back directed toward her, I steady my thoughts, confident she needs to be gone from my life. If not from her own choosing this time, then by mine. “I’m going to get dressed. You have ten minutes to get out.”
“That’s not enough time to make dinner?”
Where’s the disconnect? I turn around, and my eyes latch onto hers. It’s like she’s oblivious to the destruction she’s caused. “What are you talking about?”
When her mouth drops open, she tilts her head, her hair swinging to the side, and presses her palms to the counter between us. “I. Need. To make dinner.”
Our eyes stay fixed on each other’s, but I’m starting to wonder in what universe this would happen? On planet Earth, this would be insanity. Is my past catching up with me? Too many drugs? Too much alcohol consumed?
I throw my arms out and look up like I’ll find a higher power on the ceiling. “Fuck me. Make this make sense.” Done with this nonsense, I storm down the hall, needing to get out of here. I can hit the road in ten minutes and be back in LA in a few hours.
Before I close the door, she says, “Dinner will be done in thirty minutes.”
No. Nope. Not going to happen. I don’t need to leave. It’s my cabin. She needs to get out, so I turn right back around and take two steps into the living room again. I’m tired of this bullshit. “Then make the damn chicken and get the fuck out!”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I may work for—”
“Leave! What do you not understand?” Why is she hell-bent on torturing me?
Her mouth hangs open. Finally, she has nothing to say. The towel twists when I turn and hits the ground. I don’t give a damn, knowing her eyes are on me. Of course they are. I’m a fucking rock star, a celebrity in my own right. But I guess she knows that already since she’s been stalking me.
I look back over my shoulder when the silence extends too long. Disappointment enters her eyes, the outside corners weighed down by the emotion. “You’re mean, you know that?”
“ I’m mean?” I begin to laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I wonder why.”
“Me too.” She shakes her head and starts grabbing the knives. Her weird obsession with them probably always has them within her reach.
I pick up the towel and start for the bedroom. “I want you gone in five minutes.”
“Don’t worry,” she yells. “I’ll be gone in two.”
I slam the door closed and toss the clothes on the bed. I’m already pacing the floor when I call my sister.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Four.
“Hi, leave a message.” Shit.
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I reply, “Hey, I need you to call me back as soon as you get this message.” I set the phone on the dresser and stand in the middle of the bedroom, still naked. “What do I do now?”
Wait.
Wait until she’s gone.
As soon as I hear the front door slam, I sneak into the bathroom since the lights are off and look outside. Where is she going?
I grab my jeans and slip them on before pulling the T-shirt I was wearing back on over my head. Unzipping my duffel bag, I grab my deodorant and cologne. It’s not for her. I’ll never let her get close enough to appreciate the effort.
Peering out the window, I watch as Poppy crosses the property to the guest cabin. What is she doing?
The light comes on inside, and I see a car parked on the backside. She’s staying there?
No fucking way.
Although it’s gotten dark outside, I duck down just in case she can see me and then watch as the door opens again. She comes out with a black suitcase, dragging it through the leaves. Her voice is muffled, but she’s talking to someone on the phone.
I go into the bedroom and check to make sure my phone is on just in case Nikki decides to call me back. I pace from the bedroom to the bathroom, each time spying on Poppy thirty yards away. But with each long minute passing, I become increasingly frustrated.
I want Poppy gone. For good this time. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I’m not letting her fuck me over twice. She finally starts her engine, which doesn’t sound smooth like it should, and drives toward the main road.
Good.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Nikki: At Tulsa’s show. What’s up ?
Do I really want to go into all this through text while she’s watching her husband perform on stage? No.
Me: Just checking in. I made it to Deer Lake. Have fun tonight.
Nikki: I will. You, too. Enjoy the peace and solitude.
Yeah right. That’s the last thing I encountered tonight. And now I’m starving.
I return to the kitchen to see the food she made in the garbage. She was nice enough to leave the dishes in the sink for me to clean as well. That’s fun . . .
Opening the fridge again, I scan the food, but it’s mostly ingredients and not so much stuff to eat as is. I close it and roll my eyes. I need something to eat. That means a trek into town before everything closes for the night.
I get my shoes.