by Claire Cain
“I was actually born there.”
“What? Really?”
Calla nodded. “I was. Until this trip, I hadn’t been back there since I left home after being discovered at a mall when I was fourteen. And when everything was crashing down, I felt like the only place I wanted to be was the one place I’d known as home.”
“That’s lovely.”
“I’m not sure about that, but it’s true. I wanted to see if I could find a way back to feeling like myself.”
“And could you? Have you found yourself again?”
The air around me stilled. This, or something like it, had been the question I’d been waiting for.
“I’m getting there. I don’t think that’s something that happens overnight. But it was the right choice to go. I’ve met wonderful friends there, and I’ve reconnected with parts of me I’d lost sight of.”
“That sounds wonderful. And what about this man? Have you found love again?” Danita nodded and in seconds, a picture of me in downtown Silverton appeared—looked like even without a quote, the guy outside the library had been able to sell a photo or two.
A sound of disbelief tripped out of me, and Warrick said, “Oh, boy. At least she didn’t use your name.”
Calla had warned me they had it, which I obviously already knew thanks to the reporter getting in my face days ago. She’d promised that she’d do whatever she could to keep Danita from using it, and it seemed she’d succeeded. My whole chest felt tight knowing she’d taken the time to try to protect me in the midst of fighting for herself.
“Have you found love again?” What a question, and the reason her answer mattered so much smacked me like a horse tail to the face. I love her. I had found love. What I’d forbidden myself to feel or even truly search for, I’d found in Calla. Falling for her had been the most natural thing in the world despite the obvious reasons it didn’t make sense.
A ragged breath dragged out of me, like my heart had exerted itself just to get my brain the message.
They hadn’t filmed Calla’s response since they’d shown the shot of me on the screen, but when they flipped back to her, there was almost no expression on her face. Completely locked down into a barely there neutral smile.
“We’re good friends. I stayed near where his family lives, and they’ve been a great help to me.”
Warrick shifted on the couch next to me. “Guess that keeps it nice and vague.”
Of course she wouldn’t spill the truth about us here and now. She’d already told me that, too. It was the only thing we had talked about—what to expect when I saw the interview. And though she’d prepped me well, the realities of her life and what she’d been through were like sandpaper against my skin. Because we hadn’t talked about how she did feel. And now that I knew how I felt, it hollowed me out.
“Any guesses how Bri feels?”
Calla allowed a larger, warm smile. The petty part of me balked at the sight, though I understood she wasn’t about to broadcast who I was or what our relationship was to the world. I wouldn’t want that, and I’d been relieved when she’d explained it.
Though that begged a question I’d been asking since she’d left more than two days ago. Who was I to her, and what was our relationship now? Were we together? Could we even be? I loved this woman, and I ultimately had very little idea where this was going.
For a man who’d thought he knew where he was going and what he wanted, I’d torn every possible plant up in the garden I’d grown and they’d all been weeds. Lies I’d told myself, standards I’d claimed mattered, impossible ideas of an unreal, non-existent person to keep me from ever attaining the dream. Now, there was room for new plants, new growth. But my garden was here.
And would she come back to Silverton, really? After being back in LA and seeing everything there, what she’d been missing, would she want to return to our “sleepy mountain town” and live?
“Bri is great. As you know, the rumors about me cheating were false. The person who claims to have been with me is not someone I’ve ever been with in that way but had knowledge of my tattoos after overhearing a conversation. As for me and Bri, we split amicably, and I wish him the best. I know we’ll be friends a long time, just like we were before.”
Danita seemed appeased and pressed on to ask about future albums, tour plans, and a few more publicity items before they signed off.
“Well, she handled that like a champ. No surprise, I guess. I don’t know if it’ll put a dent in public opinion or not but seems like she did the best she could’ve.” Warrick rubbed his hands together and glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
“Agreed. I don’t know what else she could’ve said, especially considering it’s all lies people are spouting.”
Warrick crossed his arms and hit me with a look. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
He didn’t respond. Just waited.
Crap. I didn’t want to talk this out. I needed to sit with these feelings and figure out how I felt about them.
“I’m good. She was great. I’m going to head—”
“Nah, you’re going to tell me what’s going on in that thick skull of yours.” He nestled himself deeper into the couch.
With a sigh, I admitted, “I don’t know. I’m invested, but I don’t know if she is. She says she is, and I want to believe her. But we haven’t talked since she left—not about anything but this whole mess. And I don’t know what her plans are. And I still don’t know how this can work, even though I want it to.”
“That’s all pretty reasonable to wonder. Also sounds like some things you could easily talk with her about.”
I grumped. “Yeah. Easily. ‘So, Calla, are you going to give up your fame and career and move up here to be my neighbor?’”
He scoffed. “No. Try, ‘So, Calla. I’m in love with you and I want to have your babies. Will you be my sugar mama and let me cook for you until we die?’”
I wanted to grumble at him, but he’d said it so cheerily, I laughed. “Okay. Sure. I’ll try that one.”
I couldn’t even be mad he’d said it aloud before I had. Because yeah, I loved her. I had for a while, and that’d made everything brighter, and scarier. It made this time, these hours without her, far worse.
He reached over and shoved my shoulder.
“You should.” Shooting to his feet, he grabbed his keys from the counter and swung them around his finger to catch them in his hand. “I’m off. Let me know when she’s coming back, and I’ll make sure to get gone.”
And that was that. Warrick was rooting for us. My mom had said the same. But was Calla?
THIRTY-NINE
Calla
My couch at the house in LA was stylish and pure white, but not comfortable. Imminently less so now that Jenna had left for filming she couldn’t miss.
But in reality, I hadn’t been comfortable since I’d left Wyatt’s arms four days ago.
Oof. Had it really only been that long?
It felt like the Earth had traveled into a different solar system, not just around our sun a handful of times. It felt like the space around my heart was stretched thin, or maybe like my own little ozone layer that’d kept me safe from burning exposure had worn through.
What had I done to chip away at the safety? Well, obviously, hiring Rad Bickman had been a mistake. I’d never liked him, had struggled to trust him after he introduced Candy to Chet, but I’d ended up sticking with him because he’d gotten me places I wanted to be. His slimy approach had worked, and I’d convinced myself it wouldn’t bleed into anything else.
How stubbornly ignorant, because this was beyond my imagining.
Actually, no. I couldn’t truly say that. I hadn’t suspected he’d pull something like this, but I’d run into the scum of the earth in the years since starting up, and surprise wasn’t the main feeling anymore. More so, it was shock that he had the audacity to go for me this openly. Anyone who was tied in knew who had been spouting lies.
And now? He’d
decided to sue me for damages. Apparently, all his “people” had stopped taking his calls, and my lawyers had threatened him with a restraining order if he tried to get near me. I didn’t think he’d be a physical threat, but my security team lead had suggested it, and after discussing it with law enforcement, they felt they could make it happen. Mostly, it was a deterrent, and thankfully, he’d stopped calling me.
But I hadn’t left LA. I hadn’t booked a flight, and as I stared down at Julian’s name, preparing to message him one more time for a flight to Silverton, my fingers stalled. He’d insisted I use his plane for the return—he’d promised it’d stay in LA, as would his pilot, and there’d be no issues scheduling the flight.
It wasn’t the favor that plagued me. It was what Wyatt would say. The fear rattling me, making my fingers shake, was the knowledge that when I got to Silverton, we’d have to talk about the future.
And as much as I felt vindicated after the interview with Danita and everyone viewing that as a smashing success to sway public opinion, I still felt trapped. I still wanted to go back to the mountains and snuggle into Wyatt’s chest and not have to deal with this version of my life.
But I couldn’t keep doing that. I had to get back to work, and my label had jumped on the turning tide to say I needed to get into the studio and ride this wave of good favor.
I hadn’t ever imagined I’d make a swing from disgraced failure to sympathetic figure overnight, but here I sat, the fickle nature of fame giving me exactly what I had made sure not to want. I’d given up on believing Miss Mayhem’s career trajectory could change so thoroughly and quickly. Maybe it’d been the inability to see past losing Candy and all the confused, compacted history there, but I truly had not imagined that being open could do that.
I doubted I had the capacity for that interview months ago. The time in the mountains, writing and crying and opening myself up, had changed me. The woman in that interview was Calla and Mayhem. Almost as though I had to lose it first before I could find it, my dream had been restored.
Granted, it wasn’t like the interview aired and everything changed overnight. But much of the vitriol did change on a dime, the press recognizing the public’s sympathy for me and rolling with it. I still had failed albums, but I didn’t have a trashy, criminal of a manager, and that was a start. I had no idea about the way forward for my actual music, but my reputation was no longer that of a drug-dealing daughter.
So, restoration in a way I couldn’t imagine. An undeserved and unanticipated gift.
The only problem now was that my dream had shifted. And in turn, the thing I did want, more than anything I’d ever conceived of, would be sacrificed. If I didn’t stop myself, my wanting Wyatt would poison him the same way my wanting success had poisoned my career. I couldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t leave Utah, and if he did, he’d hate it. Plus, he wanted that simplicity that I couldn’t give. He’d agreed to try with me, but I couldn’t convince myself he meant try like come with me to LA and live out his life as a popstar’s partner.
“That’s enough, Rice. Just do it.”
With no one around to hear me reprimand myself, I cleared my throat, firmed my shoulders, and dialed Grenier. It was time to face Wyatt, to finally be honest and end things before one of us got hurt.
By the time the plane landed in Silverton after a genuinely harrowing approach thanks to winds and the mountain air making things interesting, I could hardly sit still. All my concerns and determination to face reality with Wyatt had balled into a knot in my chest. As soon as the captain parked and the flight attendant told me I could unbuckle, I sprang out of my seat and nearly ran down the stairs and into the terminal.
Wyatt stood just inside the doors, looking casual and gorgeous and so handsome, it made my hands shake.
I love you.
The words were right there. Right there. But I couldn’t say them now, or ever.
I thought it might be awkward to see him, to touch him, especially after the hours on the plane heightening my need for him right along with my dread over what we had to deal with. We hadn’t discussed the interview more than him congratulating me on a job well done and mentioning the headlines changing in my favor a day later. I had no idea what opinion of me he had.
But before I could console myself that at least he’d come to pick me up like he’d said he would, he opened his arms, and without a single thought in my head, I stepped into them. He wrapped me up in his warm embrace, our necks curving in toward each other so our whole bodies held the other.
My heart beat wildly, but a part of me that had felt unmoored now clicked into place. Because of him.
“I missed you,” he said, his lips brushing my neck, then kissing the place just behind my ear, then my head, then my cheek. The dizzying combination of sensual and sweet had my pulse pounding all through me. His blue eyes found mine, and he smiled a heart-slaying, soft smile. “So much.”
“Me too.”
I kept it short, but I could’ve gone on and on. Maybe I should’ve, so he’d know how much he meant to me. How constantly I’d thought of him, wished he’d been with me on the flight there, and back, at the set for the interview, in my horrid empty house. But I knew what had happened when I let myself want him, and so I resisted now, even now, to save us both.
“Let’s get you home.” He took my bag and shouldered it, then grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him.
Home. I’d been thinking of coming home to him, even while I stayed at my house in LA. It felt nothing like being with him. Being here felt right and calm, even if it meant I had to force a heaping pile of reality out of my mind.
The Utah late February air hit like a slap to the face, and we both jogged to his truck. At least it was dry, but it almost felt colder like this.
Once inside, he cranked on the engine. “Let me just let Warrick know I got you.”
I hid my smile, strangely pleased that Warrick would want to know. I shot a text to Quinn, Dahlia, and Sarah, who’d been stalwart new friends through this ordeal by texting in our group message about what a jerk Rad was, though they didn’t know his name. I’d told them it was someone who worked for me, and they’d gone off.
It was so like Jenna’s response, it made me wish I had more time with them. And so I’d told them as soon as I got back, we’d do dinner. Since it was midweek, meeting up during the day would be trickier, so we’d planned for tomorrow night. It’d be great to catch up, even if I’d miss the time with Wyatt.
And I could tell, I’d miss it. Just now, I didn’t want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else. Already, it felt like he sat too far away. Like our bodies and mouths should be together. But we had a bit of a drive ahead of us, and I couldn’t be pulling off the side of the road to have my wicked way with the man without some risk of getting caught by photographers.
He started driving as my fingers tapped out my final message—an eye roll emoji to their messages about enjoying my time tonight. Lots of winky faces and heart eyes, like they knew the reunion would be sweet.
A thrill of anticipation raced through me as I glanced at the man next to me.
Goodness, he’d gotten even more good-looking in the time I’d been gone. I’d seen the paparazzi shots of him—there were at least three in town now. I hated that, but at least there wouldn’t be any issues with photos tonight.
“I—” My phone buzzed. “Ugh, sorry. It’s Kristoffer.”
“Better answer.”
“Sorry.” I answered the call. “Hey, Kristoffer. Just landed. What’s up?”
And he caught me up on everything I’d missed in the last few hours, which was both not essential and good timing. I didn’t want to deal with this now, when I’d just been reunited with Wyatt, but I also desperately needed to be left alone for the next day and knew Kristoffer required this download before I “disappeared into the mountains” as I’d done before.
Granted, I’d spoken or communicated in some way with him every day I’d been in Utah the last
few months, but I’d waited about forty-eight hours, through the worst of my crying jags, before I’d been willing to respond to him, and then I’d only done e-mail and text for the first week. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten about that.
As we pulled into the All Saints Farm entrance, I hung up and let out a sigh.
“Everything okay?”
He couldn’t study me the way I guessed he wanted to, but I felt every bit of attention he could safely give me while he drove.
He’d been so quiet, so patient. Not that this was news, but in much the same way it had every other time I’d even thought about Wyatt in the last few days, my heart gave a glowy ache in my chest. The phone call behind me, and the flight and road done too, my heart rate picked up the closer we inched to his house.
“It’s fine. Rad’s suing and has no grounds. My lawyers will destroy him now that we’ve gotten proof. It’s just a matter of how scorched earth he’s going to go before they do.”
He had plenty of personal information about me, but at this point, I wasn’t sure I cared if any more of it got released. He could tell people Bri and I were fake, sure, but since he’d already claimed to have cheated with me, I hoped he didn’t think he could market that conflicting lie, but who knew.
Wyatt pulled into the garage, turned off the ignition, and looked at me. “You’re amazing.”
Urgency hit me then, just like the cold air had. No one in my life up to this point would’ve responded that way. They might ask for more details or say, “I don’t know how you do it,” or maybe they’d rail against Rad like my girlfriends had. And I didn’t mind any of that too much, except his response was so much better.
And it was emblematic of why I loved him. Not that he thought I was amazing, but that his response had to do with me, fully, and not something he thought I wanted to hear or was even just his gut response. It was measured and thoughtful and real.
