Page 125 of When the Stars Rise
“Sit down and relax,” she says. “You don’t have to play hostess.”
Yes, I do. I have to stay busy.
But I drop into the orange and white striped lounger next to her. The air is scented with orange blossoms from the potted trees dotted around the limestone terrace and everything is as exactly as I left it when I was last here at Christmas time. I was only home for a few days, just enough time to catch up with friends, repack and head out again.
I’ve been gone for so long and I’ve barely even lived in this house, but I have a staff who maintains my gardens and ensures that all the surfaces in my house are sparkling clean and dust-free, the sheets fresh and the rooms aired when I return from the road.
I can buy anything I want except for the things that matter most.
“I debated over whether or not to tell you,” Everly continues. “But Isla thinks it might help you understand Noah’s actions better.”
We’re poolside at my house in Malibu, soaking up the California sunshine, and up until she mentioned Noah, I was feeling remarkably chilled-out and relaxed.
In the week since my tour ended, I’ve taken up a few new hobbies.
This morning after a sunrise yoga session, I went for a run through Topanga Canyon, made a wobbly bowl on the pottery wheel and juiced enough fruit and vegetables to last a month.
I’m also working on some new music. The lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with the soul-searing pain and heart wrenching agony of losing the only boy you’ve ever loved. Nope. Nothing to do with him at all.
The key is to keep busy so I won’t have to think about him. “I doubt there’s anything you can tell me that I don’t already know about him.” I stretch out my legs and look past her to the garden where purple irises dance in the warm breeze. Maybe I should plant some vegetables and get into gardening. Anything to fill the void. “I just want to forget him.”
She pushes her sunglasses on top of her head and eyes me up and down, her nose scrunching up with distaste. “And I can see you’re doing a fantastic job of that.”
I take a sip of my watermelon juice. I added lime and ginger for a bit of extra zing. “I haven’t mentioned his name all day.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. When’s the last time you washed your hair? And oh my god…”Her eyes widen in horror. “How have I just noticed what you’re wearing? I thought we got rid of that T-shirt.”
My hand goes to my hair. It’s in a messy bun on top of my head. And okay, this might be Noah’s old T-shirt but, in my defense, I only wore it to do pottery in.
I pull it over my head, revealing the purple bikini that I swam laps in earlier, and fling it on the chair next to me. “I haven’t had a lot of time for personal hygiene this week. I’ve been busy.”
I pick at the dried clay under my nails while Bob Marley sings about waiting in vain for his love. Preaching to the choir, Bob. “I’m thinking about getting a dog.” I wasn’t, but now that the words are out it sounds like a great idea.
“You should get a golden retriever.”
“You think?”
Everly nods. “Definitely. It would be the perfect replacement for Noah.”
I scowl at her. “Noah isnota golden retriever. Golden retrievers are loyal and dependable.”
“And which part of that doesn’t fit Noah? He’s supportive, warm, friendly, and he’s optimistic.” She ticks them off her fingers then throws up her hand. “Except when you two are in the middle of another breakup. But he always comes back,” she points out. “So he definitely gives off golden retriever energy.”
“This time I’m not taking him back.” I lean back in my seat and sigh, my gaze drifting to the crystal blue water in the swimming pool. “It’s just… we have too many strikes against us and no matter how hard we try to make it work, we never get it right.”
“Okay, let’s break this down. What’s the main issue? You hate his lifestyle, right?”
“I don’thateit. A part of me is in awe of him. I can’t imagine being fearless enough to do all the things he does,” I admit. “And I know it’s a big part of him. I know that’s who he is. He’s been arisk taker since we were kids. But when we were young, he never used to be this reckless. It’s like he doesn’t care about dying. And I just…” I glance over, suddenly realizing what I just said and how it might have sounded.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound insensitive.”
“You don’t. Finish your thought. This is real talk.”
“It’s just… I really do believe he has a death wish. And there’s nothing I can say or do to get through to him.”
I look up at the cloudless blue sky and wonder, as I often have, why Noah has such a fascination with flying high. And why am I so intent on clipping his wings? I think that’s how he sees it. I don’t even know anymore.
“I thought I could be okay with everything. I was at least going to try to be supportive. But then he lied to me.” I chew on my lip, the betrayal hitting just as hard now, weeks later, as it did the night I found out what he was really doing in Idaho. “And when I found out about the BASE jumping, that was just too much for me. I did the research, Ever. It’s more dangerous than any of the other things he was doing before. And he kept it from me, you know? So it’s hard to separate the two… am I more upset about the lying or what he’s doing?” I shrug. “I don’t know. Both, I guess.”
