Page 17 of The Sound of Forever
But I have to keep trying. For Rayne. Because if I don’t, who will?
ChapterTwenty-Three
Keane
The lake is quiet today,its surface calm and reflective, almost unnervingly still. It seems serene at first glance, but there’s something about it that feels off, like it’s holding an unpleasant surprise beneath its polished exterior. The silence isn’t peaceful. It’s sometimes unnerving.
Maybe it’s just me. My overactive mind twisting calm into something ominous. I’ve carried this unease with me for so long, it feels like second nature. Waiting for the worst to happen has become my default, as if bracing for impact will somehow soften the blow.
This was why I came here. To escape the people and the suffocating noise of Seattle. The relentless hum of the city, the expectations pressing down on me. The eyes that seemed to watch my every move, dissecting every failure, every misstep. But then again, maybe no one was watching me. The point is that I couldn’t breathe there anymore.
Luna Harbor was supposed to be different.
Quiet.
Secluded.
A place where I could disappear into the background, where no one would care what I was doing or who I was. A place that promised freedom from the constant pull of everything I had to become after my life had fallen apart.
But standing here, staring at the lake, I can’t shake the feeling that this stillness isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s too quiet, too empty, leaving me alone with thoughts I’ve tried so hard to bury. Still, it’s unsettling, this kind of quiet. It doesn’t offer comfort. It exposes everything I was hoping to leave behind.
I wrap my arms around myself, the cool breeze from the water biting through my sweater. Luna Harbor feels vast, open, a place where the past shouldn’t be able to reach me. But I can feel it lingering, not in the air but in me.
I thought coming here would help me find some version of myself I could live with. That I could lay everything to rest in the empty spaces this town seemed to offer.
But instead, it feels like a mirror, showing me all the things I’ve been trying to avoid.
This house, perched on the edge of nowhere, was meant to be my sanctuary, a place where I could vanish from the world. But it isn’t. Not anymore.
I sit on the deck, my coffee untouched and cooling on the table beside me. The rich, earthy aroma wafts up, but it does nothing to ground me. My eyes are fixed on the house next door—the one that’s supposed to be empty. For hours now, it’s been alive with activity.
It started this morning, just as the sun was climbing the horizon. I was jogging—well, my version of jogging—along the narrow dirt path that circles my property. It was peaceful, just me, the sound of my shoes crunching against the gravel, and the steady rhythm of my breathing. Then I saw it: a shiny gray SUV parked in the driveway next door.
My only reaction was to sigh,What the fuck.There wasn’t supposed to be anyone there. The real estate agent swore the place had been unoccupied for years. The owner had done some updates, sure, but there weren’t any plans to sell, just vague talk of “freshening it up.” Who abandons a house but keeps it updated for no reason?
The answer to that bizarre question arrived today in the form of a woman. Petite, with a beanie covering braids that spilled over her shoulders. She stepped out of the SUV wearing an oversized sweatshirt and black leggings, looking more like someone running errands than moving into an abandoned lakeside retreat.
She fumbled with the front door for a while, until finally she opened the door. Not much later, then the sound came—an earsplitting blare from inside. My jog came to an abrupt halt, my feet rooted to the ground as the noise carried across the still lake air. A few minutes later, a sheriff’s car pulled up.
I should’ve kept moving. Should’ve ignored the whole scene, but I didn’t. Instead, I stood there, tucked behind a line of trees, watching. Was she breaking in? Did she not know the code to her own alarm system? Either way, the sheriff seemed to sort it out quickly enough. No handcuffs, no confrontation. Just a few words exchanged before the patrol car rolled away, and the woman disappeared back inside.
I told myself to move on, to forget the whole thing. But later, as I stretched on the deck, I saw her again. She was unloading bags—so many bags. Duffels, suitcases, even a couple of battered cardboard boxes. It was like she’d packed her entire life and dragged it here. She moved with purpose, her head down, her posture tense, like she could feel me watching from across the property line.
Something about her unsettled me. It wasn’t just the invasion of my solitude—it was the way she carried herself, like someone trying desperately not to be noticed. The thought of packing up and moving somewhere even more remote crossed my mind again. But where would I go? I chose this place to escape, to disappear.
But you can only go so far away when you need all the therapies I require to recover.
At least here, no one knows me. No one stares. I don’t answer Rowan’s calls when they light up my phone. I avoid town unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ve perfected the art of being invisible. And now, this woman with her mysterious arrival and her mountain of luggage threatens to shatter all of that.
The sudden chime of the doorbell jolts me from my thoughts. I freeze, staring at the door as if it’s a mirage. No one comes here. No one should be here. I just hope it’s not the new neighbor asking for sugar because I don’t have any. Even if I had it, I wouldn’t give her shit.
Then the pounding starts. “I know you’re in there,” Rowan’s voice, rough and edged with irritation, cuts through the quiet. “Answer the fucking door, Keane.”
With a sigh, I stand, my muscles stiff from sitting too long. I swing the door open, and there he is—Rowan, glaring at me as if I had just killed his puppy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, not because I don’t like him, but because the last thing I need is my brother hovering. “I want to be alone.”
“You don’t call, you don’t text,” he says, shoving his way inside like he owns the place. “You don’t want me to show up? Answer the fucking phone.”
