Chapter Three
Aubrey
Bree sat in her art studio, her hands moving in broad strokes across the canvas to make the seascape come to life in front of her. The ocean was one of the only things she missed about living near L.A. The beach and her friends. She thought longingly of Steph and Adam. They would be visiting Bree in a few weeks to film a video promoting Steph’s new fashion line, and Bree couldn’t wait. The hours melted by as the painting in front of her changed from broad strokes of color into a seascape showing the depth and beauty of the Oregon coastline. She’d have to go back and visit again.
The last time she had visited the Oregon coast, her life had been completely different. Her mom was happy everyone would be able to go on the trip. Bree’s dad had actually taken time off from the law firm and made the trip despite how tight finances had been. Jess had been happy and healthy, practically vibrating with energy as they hiked the trails. The trip had been Jessica’s graduation present and it was the first time Bree remembered her being happy after breaking up with her high school boyfriend. It had finally felt like she was getting her sister back. Getting her family back. That was wishful thinking at its finest.
The shrill ringing of the phone made her jump, and she looked at the device guiltily for a moment. She really needed to call Noah back. She had been rude. Plus, maybe what he needed to say actually was important. She checked the caller ID and groaned when she saw the name on the screen. Her heart immediately began to race, and she wiped her hands on her jeans before swiping up and answering the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“Aubrey,” Dad replied, his voice tight. She could picture him standing in the home office, feet shoulder-width apart, and using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose to communicate his exasperation, which was already more than evident in his tone. Frustration grew in Bree’s chest, and she worked hard to tamp it back down. She was used to being the second favorite child. She’d always played second fiddle to Jess and knew her parents were disappointed that their second and final child wasn’t a boy. Nothing was ever enough. Valedictorian. Famous singer. Talented artist. Bree was nothing but pursestrings, but that wasn’t Jessica’s fault.
“What’s up?” Bree asked, working to keep her voice happy and upbeat. If she kept her tone and word choice in check, the call would be short and to the point. Besides, she could understand the strain her parents were under. Between the issues at the law firm and Jess’s health, her parents had enough going on.
“The deposit hasn’t come in yet, and your sister’s hospital bills are due this week.”
Bree frowned. Hadn’t that check gone through last week? “No worries, Dad. I’ll call the billing department and get it taken care of.”
“No!” Dad yelled. Bree flinched away from the speaker. “It’s difficult enough to have to ask you for money in the first place.”
Bree rolled her eyes. Sure it was.
“I don’t need other people knowing that I can’t afford my own daughter’s medical treatment. Besides, you have enough going on. Isn’t there a party or something we’re all supposed to be attending this weekend?” Dad asked.
“It’s not a party. I’m hosting a benefit to raise money for families who have a loved one struggling with addiction. I had the chance to meet with a lot of other people on my farewell tour to secure their financial support. It’s next weekend, though. Then I’m running up to Chattanooga to grab my mail and visit the museum.”
“Your mother and I are not going to some event to raise money for drug addicts. And honestly, Aubrey, your paranoia at this point is embarrassing. Just get a post office box in the town you live in. No one cares where you are.”
Bree bristled at his recommendation and decided to just ignore it and focus on the more important point. “It’s for families who have a loved one struggling with addiction. Like J—”
“Do not start with me, Aubrey Elizabeth.” Dad heaved a sigh. “Just make sure the money is in the account. I don’t want Jessica’s treatment disrupted because of banking issues.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me. You should’ve checked to make sure this was taken care of. Get the money squared away and give me a call Monday.” There was a pause as he chastised Bree’s mother for interrupting him in the background.
Bree ground her teeth.
“Aubrey, your mother says hello.” He forced out. “Call me Monday.”
“Of course,” Bree replied, not surprised in the least when the line cut out after that. “Goodbye to you too.” She muttered, setting the phone aside and picking her paintbrush back up. “How is the new house? How is Rhodes? Any more trouble from Kyle? Need me to call his dad for you? Your mom and I miss you.” Bree muttered quickly under her breath, jabbing color onto the canvas with each unasked question. How her mother put up with that man was beyond her, though the large amount of alcohol consumed by her parents could be a factor.
Calls with her dad were always exhausting. Honestly, she didn’t want to talk to another soul for at least three to five business days. Bree had loved making music and connecting with people who had similar life experiences or really felt drawn to her music, but singing in front of people and having to meet people was anxiety inducing. Feeling awkward and like you had to plan what you were going to say to people so you sounded normal definitely drained her social battery a little faster than desirable. Only her deep love for Jess and a heavy emotional guilt trip from her dad had kept her in the industry. Once she was financially set, she had been able to step out of the spotlight and into freedom. She was almost done. Almost.
The memory of her conversation with Theo about calling Noah poked around in her brain, causing that knot of guilt in her stomach to get heavier and heavier. She jabbed at the canvas and frowned. She shouldn’t take her pent-up emotions out on the painting. It’s not the painting’s fault she couldn’t call the man like an adult. Ugh. Fine.
Bree forcefully set her brush down and scrolled through the call log on her phone. Before she could chicken out, she tapped on the number Noah had called from and waited anxiously while it rang. Hopefully, he would be gracious—the last thing she needed to deal with right now was another emotionally charged man.
“Noah Hawthorne.” Noah’s deep voice sounded through the phone.
“Hi, Noah, this is Aubrey Gray. I’m returning your call.” She said, holding her breath.
“Ah, Miss Gray. Thanks for getting back to me.” Noah said. “I wanted to touch base with you on your tire—”
“I got a new tire.” Bree blurted before mentally facepalming. Way to stay cool, Bree.
“Right, I’m glad to hear that,” Noah said before continuing as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “I actually wanted to touch base with you on your old tire. When I loaded it into your trunk, it looked like the tire had been slashed.”
Bree felt the blood drain from her face. No.
“Miss Gray?”
“Umm…sorry. I’m processing. You said you think my tire was slashed?”
“No.” Before the pounding fear gave way to relief, Noah continued. “I know it was slashed.”
Bree dropped her head to her chest. She didn’t need this right now. “I just don’t think that could be possible.” She argued weakly.
“Why?” Noah asked.
“I didn’t see a big gash in it. And I live in a small town. There was a festival going on with a lot of foot traffic. I…I’m just me. Why would anyone want to slash my car tire?”
“The slash wasn’t huge—you very easily could have missed it. Small towns have their own share of crimes—and a festival is a great chance for someone to blend in. Normally, small towns know when someone doesn’t belong, so it’s easier to blend in when there are lots of someones who don’t belong.” Noah said.
“Still—the only person I’ve ticked off since moving here offered to help change my tire so…”
“You’re also a celebrity.”
“Retired.” Bree retorted.
“Retired, but still famous.” Noah conceded.
“Fair enough.”
“Look, Adam and Steph are worried about you. Let me look into the notes they mentioned and the tire and see if anything comes up.”
“I just don’t think I need security, Noah. It was probably just some teenagers causing trouble or something. The notes have been concerning, but I’m documenting them and have the police department looped in. Mean comments kind of come with the territory of being famous.” Bree said. That sounded way more likely than some random person targeting her. She was a nice person—generally. “Also…I’m sorry for being rude to you when we met. I…I don’t like being told what to do.” Bree said softly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Noah said.
“I’ll let Adam know we connected—and more pleasantly this time,” Bree said, a small smile on her face. “And I’ll reiterate for the millionth time that I don’t need security, so hopefully, he won’t bug you again.”
“O’Shea is welcome to ‘bug’ me any time,” Noah said seriously. “And Bree—if anything happens or feels off, you’re welcome to call me. I’ll text you my cell number so you have it.”
“I won’t use it,” Bree warned.
“Fair enough. But at least you’d be able to get in touch with me if you do need to use it.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for calling me back,” Noah said.
“You’re welcome,” Bree added softly before ending the call. There. Now, her guilt could chill out. She called. She apologized. They were good. Her phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number, and Bree opened it up, a smile on her face.
Even if you never plan on using it—save it.
Please.
She added Noah to her contacts and tossed her phone onto the table so she could finish her painting. Another hour or so of work and then she could be shoulders deep in a bubble bath re-reading one of her favorite books and all this talk of threatening notes and slashed tires would be behind her. She refused to let this upset her. Retirement was going to be calm and peaceful.