When the Storm Breaks (Lost Stars)

by Emery Rose

  This was my chance to escape. All I had to do was tell him yes and I’d be home safe. But instead of saying yes, I shook my head no. “It’s cool. I’ll come along.”

  On the drive to the playground, Brody circled back to the question he’d asked earlier. “What would have made you cry?”

  The kids were laughing and talking in the backseat, not paying us any mind so I lied and said the first thing that popped into my head. “I would have cried if someone tripped me while I was running.”

  Oh my God. I rolled my eyes at myself. That was so lame.

  “Did someone trip Hayley or Noah?” His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

  “No,” I said quickly, sensing he was about to question them and if need be, deal with a situation that was totally fabricated. “We were talking about some other kids.” His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of this. I waved my hand in the air. “Kids they don’t even know. It had absolutely nothing to do with them. It happened on a TV show.” The more I said, the worse I was making it.

  Oh my God, shut up, Shiloh.

  He gave me a funny look, but I pretended not to notice. I spun my thumb ring and stared out the windshield while I listened to Hayley’s sweet voice. She and Noah were making up silly songs. The words didn’t even make sense, but her voice was so pretty I couldn’t resist. I turned in my seat to face her. She had an Elsa Band-Aid on her left knee. The inspiration for my stupid story.

  “Your mom told me you like to sing “Let It Go.” Is that your favorite song?”

  “It’s my second favorite now.”

  “What’s your first favorite?”

  “Do you want me to sing it?” she offered.

  I nodded, my hand wrapping around my phone, so I had it ready. “I’d love to hear it.”

  Her face lit up at the prospect of singing for a captive audience. Me. “Okay.”

  Without preamble she started singing The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun.” She knew every word and hit every note and I was thankful sunglasses hid my eyes so nobody could see the tears in them. When she was done singing, Noah said, “Hayley’s the best singer in Texas. Probably the world. Right?”

  She gave him a big smile, but I could barely see through the blur of tears. “She’s...” I cleared my throat. “…yes, she’s the best singer I’ve ever heard.”

  I turned around to face forward as Brody pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. My heart hurt so much, and I didn’t know how I’d get through the rest of our time together. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

  But with two kids clamoring to get to the playground, I didn’t have that luxury so with a heavy heart and heavy footsteps, I walked with Brody while the kids ran ahead. The playground was in a state park, a wood fence surrounding it, and shaded by trees but the heat was so oppressive, the air closed in on me. I peeled the tank top away from sweat-slick skin, trying to cool off. My heart was racing and the pressure building inside my head made it feel like it might explode.

  “Why did you come to Cypress Springs, Shiloh?” Brody asked. As I’d already witnessed, he was observant, capable of reading my moods, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that he chose now to ask the question again. Maybe he’d figured out the truth and was looking for confirmation. I wasn’t ready to give him honesty. I didn’t even know how I felt about spending time with Hayley, let alone try to explain any of this to him.

  As an entertainer, I’d learned how to be a good actress. I had one face I showed the world and the other, the real one, that only a select few got to see. The whole time I’d been in Texas, Brody had gotten to see the real Shiloh. Not the entertainer who performed on a stage.

  But now I turned on my dazzling smile, the one I used when I accepted my Grammy. “I came here looking for you, Cowboy.” I lowered my sunglasses and winked at him. “And it’s been a hell of a ride.”

  We stopped outside the fenced-in playground and he studied my face for a moment. “Yeah, okay. Message received.” He raked his hand through his hair and laughed harshly. My flippant response obviously hadn’t made him happy. “Fuck it. You don’t owe me a damn thing.”

  With that he strode away and left me standing outside the playground. I watched him from the other side of the fence while he stood guard, arms crossed over his chest, making sure the kids didn’t fall and hurt themselves on the wood climbing frame. The kids were happily playing, oblivious to what was going on in the adults’ lives. I watched Hayley climb the frame then she followed Noah across the rope ladder bridge, her feet moving from one rung to the next, her brow furrowed in concentration. So focused, one foot in front of the other, her sole purpose to get to the other side.

  The air was so hot and muggy, and it felt like I was suffocating and couldn’t draw enough air into my lungs. I was torn between wanting to join Brody and trying to make things right and walking away to get my head together. I needed time alone to think about this and to make my own peace.

  His back was still turned to me, shoulders squared, legs slightly spread, eyes trained on the kids. And even though I couldn’t see his face I recognized his stance for what it was. He was putting up walls, trying to protect himself from the girl who refused to give him an honest answer to the only thing he had ever asked of her.

  Like a coward, I turned and walked away, and I kept right on walking. Past the playground and the baseball diamond where a little league game was being played. I kept my eyes trained ahead of me, the brim of my ball cap pulled down low, and wiped away the tears as I walked away from Brody. Away from Hayley. Away from a life that would never be mine.

  Last night, Dean had called me. Perfect timing, as always. I’d let his calls go to voicemail and he’d left two messages I hadn’t listened to yet. Maybe it was a sign. My old life was calling me back, a reminder of what was real and what was only a fantasy.

  I was already feeling raw and vulnerable. Listening to Dean’s voicemail now would be a mistake. Apparently, I was a masochist. I slid my phone out of my pocket and played back the first one, holding my phone to my ear so I could listen to his voice. Familiar. Raspy. The voice of a lead singer and a man who had done a lot of hard living in his twenty-eight years.

  “Hey baby. I just got out of rehab. Landry says you’ve gone away for a while. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope...” He paused to take a drag of his cigarette. Whenever he got clean, he chain-smoked. “Fuck. Here’s the thing. I wrote a lot of music in the past sixty days. Like a shitload. And I think it’s the best stuff I’ve ever written. But there’s one song in particular... I wrote it for you. And it just fucking poured out of me. I know you don’t want anything to do with me... I get it. But babe, I need you. I need you in my life. It’s shit without you. Everything will be different. I’m clean and sober and I’ve been through hell and back ... I’m not going down that road again.”

  The voicemail ended and I pressed play on the next one. Why was I listening to my ex-boyfriend’s bullshit explanations? I didn’t have an answer, but I stood there under the shade of an oak tree and listened to the King of Excuses and Empty Promises, his voice dragging me back to another lifetime.

  “Hey. It’s me again. I know your answer will be no. But just think about it. When things were good, they were fucking awesome. It can be that way again. I want to send you this song I wrote. It’s us, Shy. It’s you and me and nobody else can sing it. Even if you never come back to Acadian Storm or to me, just give me one more song. One more song, Shiloh. Please. Call me. I’ll be waiting.”

  I slid my phone into my shorts pocket and lowered myself to the ground under the oak tree, the rough bark digging into my back as I leaned against it. It was too much. It was all too much. But that was so Dean. He always wanted just one more thing. The problem with Dean was that it never ended at one thing. He’d push and he’d push until he got exactly what he wanted. So I wasn’t going to return his calls or record a duet with him. If he thought I could ever return to Acadian Storm or to him after all the shit he’d put me through, he must be
crazier than I thought.

  I hugged my knees to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut, assaulted by memories.

  When I told Dean I was leaving him, I was in the swimming pool at our house in Malibu. A modern white box with a wall of windows overlooking the Pacific Ocean. A blank canvas we’d never bothered to decorate. Most of our things were still packed in boxes we hadn’t bothered opening. I’d just finished swimming laps and he’d shown up after pulling an all-nighter. He’d smelled like a brothel and was so fucking high I didn’t think he even knew where he was.

  “You’re never leaving me. When are you going to get that through your fucking head?”

  “I’m done. I can’t take this anymore.”

  When I’d gotten out of the pool, we had a fight. He’d shoved me, and I fell onto the limestone pool deck, bruising my hip in the fall. Instead of helping me up, he’d walked over to the outdoor bar—fully stocked, because he had to have alcohol within easy reach at all times—and had hurled the glasses and bottles at the glass doors and onto the patio. A river of alcohol poured from shattered bottles, shards of glass scattered across my only exit route.

  “You want to leave?” He’d laughed like the maniac he was. “Try leaving now, baby.”

  In my bare feet, I’d walked across broken glass to get to that door, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I’d called Bastian, not sure who else to turn to, and he said Hayden would be right over to pick me up. Then I’d tossed a few things in a bag and walked out the front door.

  Dean had chased after me and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving, his fingers leaving purple bruises on my skin. “Baby, don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He’d been crying, tugging on the ends of his hair like a little boy, his handsome face twisted and ugly. “I don’t know why I do this. I love you.”

  “You call this love? You have no idea what love is, Dean.”

  Just then, Hayden had pulled up in the silver Aston Martin and stepped out of the car, arms crossed over his broad chest, ready to put a stop to yet another Dean and Shiloh shit show.

  “You’re leaving me for him, aren’t you?” Dean had accused. “You bitch. You think I don’t know you’ve been fucking Bastian Cox behind my back?”

  Lies. The only one who had been fucking other people was Dean.

  Hayden had stepped in and ushered me to the car. As we drove away, I watched Dean through my window. He’d looked so lost. So broken.

  And the damn paparazzi had captured our finest moments. We were all over the tabloids.

  Shiloh Leroux Left Dean Bouchon for British rock star, Bastian Cox

  Shiloh Leroux’s Split from Dean Bouchon Responsible for Breaking Up Acadian Storm

  Will Losing Shiloh Send Dean into Another Downward Spiral?

  And that was the last time I saw my ex-boyfriend. Fifteen months ago. Two days later, Bastian and I wrote “Damage.” Over the next couple months, I wrote enough music for an entire album. I cut off ties with my brother and Dean and I went to therapy and I cried a lot. And little by little, I got stronger and I started to heal. But now here I was, right back in that dark place again.

  Dean and I had been chasing the music and the highs and had deluded ourselves into believing we were untouchable. Invincible.

  But we weren’t. We were all too human. We hurt each other, we fucked up, broke up and got back together, until one day I looked in the mirror and couldn’t stand the person staring back at me. That night it came to me in a dream, my life and my own death playing out right before my eyes in technicolor. A stray bullet lodged itself into my heart and stopped it from beating. Dean was holding the gun, but I pulled the trigger. And I knew if I didn’t get out right then and there, my life would have been cut tragically short. So I found the strength to leave him and swore I’d never look back.

  If my years with Dean had taught me anything, it was that I had no clue how to be in a healthy relationship.

  I took a few deep breaths and I texted Brody: Hey, you guys can go on home without me. I’ll run home from here.

  His response was immediate. Suit yourself.

  Even though it was to be expected, my shoulders slumped.

  This was how you broke your own heart.

  I pressed play on my phone then I sat under the tree in a state park in Texas and I listened to the song I’d recorded earlier, Hayley’s sweet voice singing, “Here Comes the Sun.” My eyes drifted shut and tears streamed down my face.

  Coming here had been a mistake.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brody

  I snatched my ringing phone off the coffee table and skipped the greeting. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Outside thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the dark room. Our power had gone out earlier and the movie I’d been watching had gone off so now I was sitting in the darkness, staring at a blank screen, feet propped on the coffee table while I contemplated whether it would have been better had I never met Shiloh Leroux.

  “Brody...” She sounded like she was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” And why the hell should I give a shit?

  “I’m broken down on the side of the road. I had an accident...”

  Shit. My feet hit the floor and I stood up from the sofa. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I’m okay....” She started crying again which made it hard to believe she was telling the truth. But I had a feeling Shiloh was good at lying. It made me question how much of what she’d told me was true. I hadn’t seen her since she took off and left me in the park. That was eight hours ago. “Brody... I... something’s happened... it’s so bad…”

  My head warred with my emotions, but I didn’t have to think twice. “I’ll come for you. Just tell me where you are.” When she didn’t respond, I prompted her. “Shy. Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” I was already headed for the front door. Ridge came down the stairs, his phone flashlight guiding the way.

  “Is that Shiloh?” he asked, his voice low. Earlier he’d gone over there to visit her, but she hadn’t been there then, and he told me the truck was gone.

  I nodded.

  “I ... I’m not sure where I am,” Shiloh said. “I don’t even know why I’m calling you. I’m lost, Brody. I’m so fucking lost ...”

  And I had the strange feeling she wasn’t only talking about not knowing her geographical location. I wanted to know why she was crying, and why she’d disappeared, but this wasn’t the time to ask. “I’m coming to get you, but you need to give me a landmark. Something. Anything to help me find you, okay?”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I was just driving. Not really paying any attention to where I was going. And I tried to call you earlier, but I couldn’t get a signal. The GPS on my phone stopped working. I’m on that winding road that cuts through the hills... the one with the limestone formations...”

  That didn’t tell me jack shit. This was a rural area with hundreds of winding roads and limestone formations.

  “Which direction were you headed? North, south, east, west?”

  “I was headed home but I got lost and I ended up on that road that Ridge and I—”

  The rest of her sentence was swallowed up by a clap of thunder. “Shiloh.” Nothing. The line was dead. I fucking lost her.

  I hit the call button, but it went straight to voicemail. Shit. Fuck. I ran my hand through my hair. Where the hell was she?

  “Where is she?” Ridge asked.

  “If I knew, I’d already be in my truck on my way to get her.”

  “Damn.”

  “She lost her signal and has no fucking idea where she is. But she mentioned your name.”

  I ignored the way his face lit up and repeated what little information Shiloh had given me. “Any idea where she could be?”

  “Shit.” He chewed on his lip, his brow furrowed, and it looked to me like he didn’t have a fucking clue where she was.

  I exhaled loudly, quickly losing patience. “North, south, east, west? Anything, Ridge?
”

  When no answer was forthcoming, I gave up waiting and scrolled through my phone, all set to swallow my pride and ask Jude for help. Just before I hit the call button, Ridge snapped his fingers like he’d suddenly had a brainstorm.

  “Hang on. I think I know the road she’s talking about. If I’m right, it’s only about six or seven miles from here.”

  A hunch was better than nothing.

  We made a dash for my truck, and drove down my winding drive, skirting around a fallen limb from an oak tree. When I got to the road, he instructed me to hang a right. Sheets of rain cascaded down my windshield, the wipers doing jack shit to help the situation, making visibility nearly impossible. I could only see as far as my headlights, a few feet in front of me. With our windows cracked, and the air vents blowing warm air to defog the windows, I drove as fast as the weather conditions allowed. Fucking sloth speed.

  “That day we went to buy the guitar, we took a drive,” Ridge said, filling me in as I drove, my eyes searching the road for any signs of a broken-down Chevy pickup. “Just talking and shit. And we passed these big-ass limestone formations. I asked her to pull over. Nobody was around, and I said it looked like an amphitheater and she should give me a mini-concert.”

  “And did she?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. I was hoping he’d say she didn’t do it.

  Ridge chuckled. “Yeah. We got out of the truck and hiked over to the rocks... I brought the tacos, so we could have a little picnic.”

  Jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d gotten the chance to be alone with her, having a ‘little picnic’ and listening to her sing just for him? She’d never sung just for me and while this was no time to get petty, I couldn’t help myself. It felt like a sucker punch in the stomach. Just like earlier when she’d refused to give me an honest answer. This was what happened when you let someone get too close.

  When you let someone in, you gave them the power to fuck with your head.

  “What did she sing?”

  “’The Ghost of You.’”

  I side-eyed him. “She sang it for you.”