Even more than he realizes.
“Have you seen Grandma today?” Colby asks. “She wasn’t answering my calls.”
“I’ll check on her,” I promise. Grandma hates when we coddle her too much, and between Colby and I, there’s a lot of coddling. We’re kind of all she has left, though. Colby’s mom died years ago, his dad lives near his other grandparents in Fresno, and my parents are still in LA. My dad got work there when I started my music career, and they loved it so much they stayed. I was the only one who went back to Montana after I quit, and I haven’t really lived near my family since.
We aren’testranged, exactly. My dad still comes up to see his mother—and me, I guess—every so often. But to say they were disappointed I left the industry would be an understatement.
All that to say, I moved here when Grandma needed heart surgery a few years ago and never left.
“When are you coming home?” I ask Colby. He’s been gone for so long, I can’t help but feel like we’re close to the end of his trip. But Bree is in his house, so he can’t be planning on returning right away.
“I’m done in about ten days, but my latest guest wanted the house for a whole month, so I’m going to head to Fresno for a while and see my dad.”
A month. Bree is going to live next door to me fora month. Then I realize what he said about seeing his dad. “That’s loaded. You know you can crash here if you need to.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a breath that blows static through the phone. “We’re all adults. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Text me about Grandma, okay?”
“For sure.” I’m about to sign off when a knock at my front door startles me. I glance at the wavy glass and can make out Bree’s hot pink top from here. My heart is racing before I’ve even decided if I’m going to answer the door.
“Is that Grandma?” Colby asks, apparently having heard the knocking.
“Because she’s the only person who would visit me,” I say with sarcasm. Although, to be fair, that’s not far off.
“Her or a solar salesperson. Which is it?”
I don’t tell him it’s a world-famous pop star. “I’ve been thinking of reducing my carbon footprint.”
He laughs. “Talk to you later.”
“Bye.” I hang up, draw in a deep breath, and open my door.
Bree grins up at me with a wide smile of straight, white teeth. She’s wearing a blonde wig with long soft waves and huge dark sunglasses that cover half of her face. If I didn’t know it was her, I totally wouldn’t know it was her.
Until she talks, of course. Her voice is unique, and after all the spotlight she’s had over her lifetime, I’d be hard-pressed to find a person whowouldn’trecognize her voice.
“You coming?” she asks.
I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying yes right away. Apparently it’s an impulse to jump when she saysgo. “Where?”
“Lunch. You can help me know what to order. It’s a nice day, so I figured we could walk.”
I shouldn’t. It’s not wise to let myself get tangled up with her forso many reasons.
She bites her lip, drawing my eyes down there. “Or do you have to work?”
“I finished already. I’ll come.” Wise Ben isn’t here anymore. He’s still hanging out in my office. I reach for my key and step outside, pulling my door closed behind me. “But we’re taking my bike.”
5
BREE
Sixteen-year-old Benny wasAmerica’s boy next door. Now, he’s a literalmannext door, and I don’t think I can handle seeing the changes his body has undergone in the last decade, let alonefeel thembeneath my fingers.
I’ve been on the back of a motorcycle before. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt salty sea air in my face or the sun beating warmth on my skin while hugging a guy I think I might be crushing on.
But it’s the first time I’ve straddled a bike behind my ex-boyfriend who I was most definitely in love with once and still have unresolved feelings for. He didn’t even grab a jacket, so I’m fully getting a feel for his firm chest and broad shoulders beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt. His quick heartbeat must be due to driving on the winding road and not me.
It wouldn’t be because of me. When I asked him about going to lunch, he didn’t even respond. I’m the one being forward, coming to his door. Maybe his lack of text reply was a message. A gentle denial. Ghosting me. His polite-ish way to communicate that he wants me to leave him the heck alone.