Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  Olivia had just turned seventeen. She spent the summer at Carter Ridge with her cousins, aunt and uncle and grandparents as usual. But then something happened. She met a boy—Rhys Hudson—and everything changed.

  Rhys was Olivia’s first love. He swept her off her feet instantly. He was two years older and unfairly handsome, with jet-black hair, bright blue eyes, sun-kissed skin and a chiseled jaw. Olivia had lost the ability to speak when she first met him.

  If only she’d been so shy and embarrassed she’d slammed the door right in his face.

  But she hadn’t. And even if she had, she wasn’t sure that would have stopped the storm Rhys would bring into her life. Some toxins find their way in, no matter how hard you resist.

  Rhys had showed up at her grandparent’s lake house, lost and looking for trouble. The wicked smile he greeted Olivia with should have warned her that he was no good. But she didn’t think with her head when it came to Rhys. She was all fluttering heart and pooling desire when it came to him—and he knew it.

  “Hi, I’m Rhys Hudson. Just moved to the area and . . . well you look like you can keep a secret?” She’d nodded. “I think I’ve gotten myself lost. You wouldn’t want to pretend you invited me here so I don’t look like an idiot, would you?”

  Olivia had stood open-mouthed and dumbfounded as she stared at the drop-dead gorgeous man at her grandparents’ door. He grinned at her obvious adoration and held up his hands innocently. “I promise, I don’t bite.” But he followed his comment with a wink that promised he did worse.

  Olivia still remembered the shameful way her insides clenched at the low rumble of his voice. Luckily, Gran showed up and rescued Olivia from embarrassing herself further. And Gran being Gran, she invited Rhys in.

  If only they’d known the heartache Rhys would cause their family.

  But how could they?

  You never see heartbreak coming. And even if you’re warned, you don’t believe it anyway.

  Chapter 4

  Alex

  Alex tried not to think about the blue-tinted girl from the photograph as he ran down the slick tree-lined path that led away from the cottage. The branches above him reached for each other like forlorn lovers, but still the rain found its way through the threaded green canopy. Alex was soaked despite his rain jacket. But it didn’t bother him much. He liked the challenge of running in the elements. It required more focus, which meant less time for his mind to wander.

  He ran in the city nearly every day, navigating the concrete jungle of Brooklyn expertly. He loved the noise of the city, creeping in through his music, altering his colorful view of the cityscape. But running here was much different. Beyond the rain, the dense forest was silent and the landscape nearly identical. It did little to satisfy the distraction he craved.

  As fog settled on the steep terrain, Alex found himself focused on his footing more than he liked. Staring at the monotonous trail let the girl in the photograph find her way back into Alex’s mind too easily. He tried to shake her, but every time he let his concentration slip, there she was—glowing in his mind like she’d been tattooed on the inside of his eyelids.

  It bothered Alex that he’d reacted so strongly to a picture of a stranger. That had never happened to him before. Perhaps he’d been so affected by her because he recognized the painful loneliness in her eyes. It was often the look he saw in his own eyes when he was brave enough to look in the mirror—something he rarely did.

  Alex avoided looking too deep at himself for fear of what he’d see. That was the reason he ran, painted and blasted music constantly. It allowed him to focus on other things—better things. He was terrified of standing still, because that’s when his past caught up to him. And he wasn’t strong enough to face it yet. Maybe he’d never be.

  Alex stopped running and put his hands behind his head, looking up so the rain soaked his face. He tried to catch his breath and clear his mind.

  What was wrong with him?

  He was in great shape. He shouldn’t be feeling so winded.

  Maybe it was the altitude?

  Whatever it was, he gave himself a mental pep talk. He was in the middle of a life changing opportunity and he was blowing it by letting dark thoughts of his past take hold. He needed to keep his eyes on the prize and focus on the future. Nothing good would come of being distracted by his mistakes. He turned back toward the house, cranked his music to full blast and ran, hoping he could out run his fears.

  But as Alex ran he reminded himself, fear was a good motivator. After all, only fools were fearless.

  Chapter 5

  Olivia

  “Welcome to LaGuardia. It’s 5:33 pm local time and a lovely 58 degrees in the fair city of New York.”

  The flight attendant’s voice jolted Olivia from her sleep. She self-consciously wiped the drool from her face. The last thing she remembered was thinking about Rhys Hudson. Olivia shoved the nauseating memories away. She rarely allowed herself to dwell on him. But perhaps weak moments were to be expected on a trip like this. Going home always dredged up old memories. And an unhappy occasion, like saying goodbye to the beloved matriarch of Olivia’s family, was bound to leave her feeling nostalgic.

  Olivia gathered her overnight bag and stepped outside to grab a taxi. The crisp New York air made her shiver. Perhaps the only thing she enjoyed about LA was the mild weather. But as she whistled for a cab, just like Grand had taught her, Olivia let the symphony of the city wash over her.

  Weather be damned, it was good to be home.

  A yellow cab pulled over and Olivia hopped in. “New York Presbyterian, please.”

  The driver gave her a flat smile. “You got it, kiddo.”

  Olivia stepped out of the elevator on the ninth floor and made her way to the private oncology waiting room. She hated how familiar she was with the hospital. Gran had spent too much time here already. And Olivia didn’t like the idea that this would be where her grandmother would spend her final days. That wasn’t like Gran at all. She was always so lively and commanding. Everything about the hospital was sterile and silent.

  As she pushed through a door marked PRIVATE and headed down the narrow corridor a small waiting room came into view. It was filled with her family and Olivia felt the sting of tears coming. She missed them so much. This was always how it was. Even when she was with her family she still felt such a crippling loneliness—knowing she wouldn’t be staying, and she didn’t deserve to. Not after what she’d done.

  Olivia scanned the room. Her uncle Jacob had his arm around his wife Margot, with their three daughters huddled around them. Seeing her cousins was like a breath of fresh air for Olivia. Jacob and Margot had somehow created three nearly identical brunette girls with incredible musical talent and a fierce love for bohemian fashion.

  Brooklyn, the eldest, who always went by Brooks, was the most conservative of the sisters. Her hair was still its glossy natural color, resembling polished mahogany.

  Next to her was Madison, who everyone had called Mads since she was a baby. She was the middle sister and to be sure she didn’t get overlooked, she was also the wildest. Her hair was completely shaved on one side, while the rest of it was a mess of unruly curls, with colorful highlights and feathers weaved throughout

  Last, but not least, was Tribeca, or Bex as she liked to be called. Six months older than Olivia, Bex was the youngest of her cousins, and possibly the most talented. Bex was attending Julliard. It had been Olivia’s dream to attend with Bex. But life had gotten in the way.

  Olivia had always been close to Bex. They looked nearly identical with long brown hair, pale skin, cheeks that got rosy when they were embarrassed and full pouty lips. They were often mistaken for sisters—something that Olivia secretly cherished, having always longed for a sister.

  Their similarities extended past looks. Both Olivia and Bex shared an affinity for string instruments and bad boys. Bex played the violin to Olivia’s cello. And they spent many summers competing over complicated compositions and boys.
Rhys had been the only boy Olivia had been foolish enough to let come between her and Bex, but she tried not to think of that.

  Olivia glanced around the tiny room, realizing there was one person noticeably absent—her father. She looked at her watch, he should’ve arrived already. Olivia shook her head and tried to fight the disappointment that stormed her heart. She couldn’t believe her father was still able to frustrate her so much. After years of his undependable behavior she should be used to it. Unfortunately, it seemed her heart always granted the wrong people unlimited second chances—her father was one of them.

  Olivia took a deep breath and stepped into the waiting room. “Hey.”

  Bex spotted Olivia and leapt to her feet. “Liv!”

  Olivia was barely inside the tiny waiting room before her family jumped up to greet her. Her cousins were shrieking her name at an ungodly octave but Olivia could only smile and open her arms to the three colorfully dressed brunette women bounding toward her. She let her cousins engulf her tightly.

  It hadn’t been that long since she’d seen them—maybe six months. But still, each time they were reunited, Olivia cried like it’d been a lifetime. Just being with her cousins made everything better somehow. It was like each of them filled a part of the hole her mother had left in Olivia’s heart. Bex, Mads and Brooks were the sisters Olivia never had. They sobbed together as they held each other tightly in the shiny, white hospital waiting room.

  “Liv, I’m so glad you’re here,” Bex squealed pulling her away from the group. “Flight go okay?”

  Bex knew how much Olivia hated to fly. “Yes. Thanks,” Olivia said, squeezing her cousin’s hand. “How’s Gran?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t been in to see her yet.”

  “What? Why not?” Olivia asked in alarm.

  “I don’t think it’s anything bad,” Bex said reassuringly. “You know Gran. She’s probably primping to look her best for us.”

  Olivia smiled. That was definitely something her grandmother would do. “Do you think it’s for real this time?” Olivia asked quietly.

  “I don’t know. Dad seems to think so. He’s been talking to Grand about legal stuff. It seems serious.”

  Olivia’s eye teared up. The reality of losing her grandmother suddenly made life seem so fragile and she regretted the way she’d been wasting her own life in LA. Everything she did felt so meaningless. And knowing soon, she wouldn’t have Gran to anchor her, made Olivia feel more lost than ever.

  “Hey,” Bex soothed. “Gran’s sort of magical. If anyone can beat cancer a third time, it’s her.”

  “I know,” Olivia whispered wiping her eyes.

  “New bar,” Bex exclaimed.

  Olivia laughed. She hadn’t heard that line in ages. It was a phrase her family used to avoid arguments—a music term that basically meant new subject.

  “Have you given anymore thought to coming back to New York?” Bex asked.

  “I don’t know, Bex. I need to finish out the semester at UCLA and graduate before I make any decisions,” Olivia murmured. She desperately wanted to shout new bar, as Bex started to object, but luckily Olivia’s uncle, Jacob, saved her.

  “Bex, stop monopolizing your cousin,” Jacob called, waving Olivia over. “How are you, sweetie?”

  “I’m fine. Just worried about Gran. When do you think we can see her?”

  Before Jacob could answer, Olivia’s grandfather emerged in the waiting room. His deep voice boomed through the room. “She’s ready for us.”

  Everyone stood and crowded around Olivia’s grandfather, the great Thomas Crain. Even in his eighties he still commanded a room. She smiled at the brightness in his eyes. The years had carved their marks on his handsome features, but they couldn’t steal the light in his soul. The same was true of her grandmother. Perhaps that’s what had drawn Thomas and Cassidy together all those years ago, creating a sixty-year legacy of love and music.

  “Not all at once,” Thomas instructed. “Cassidy would like to see each of you individually. She would like a little quality time with each of you.”

  He didn’t have to say the words out loud, because Olivia felt them.

  It was time to say goodbye.

  Chapter 6

  Alex

  After a hot shower and a protein shake, Alex felt more like himself. He was back in his makeshift artist studio looking over his gallery contract on his laptop. His upcoming exhibit in Manhattan would be the largest the gallery had ever hosted. The guest list read like a who’s who from the music industry to Wall Street. Alex had agreed to have sixty-four pieces available to display. He’d never done an installment of that size—hell, he’d never done an installment of any size—and Alex worried he’d bit off more than he could chew.

  When he spoke with Cassidy to set up his stay at the Carter Ridge house they’d talked about his aspirations. She made the genius suggestion for Alex to paint pieces from musicians who had recorded something on the property. Like Alex, Cassidy believed music has a living, breathing soul and traces of it remained behind in the house, giving Carter Ridge the magic it was known for.

  Alex was crazy about the idea. And so was the gallery curator, Celine. They made a list of each of the musicians Alex wanted to feature and chose a song to focus on. Celine promised to get as many of the musicians as she could to attend the exhibit’s opening—as if painting songs inspired by legendary musicians wasn’t intimidating enough. Now Alex had the added pressure of meeting his idols face-to-face while showing his art to the world for the first time.

  He tried to shrug off the mounting pressure as he drained the last of his shake. To stay on schedule, Alex planned to do one painting a day. First on his list was Beautiful Girl by INXS. Alex changed into his favorite old jeans. They were covered in paint, but soft from years of wear. Despite the chill in the air, he pulled off his hoodie. Alex always painted shirtless. He felt freer that way. After flexing his shoulders and shaking out his arms, Alex cued up his playlist and put his wireless headphones on. He flipped off the lights, stretched his lanky arms and cracked his knuckles ready to get down to business.

  Bathed in darkness, Alex approached his blank canvas and hit play. As the first notes of the song rang out, soft waves of color rolled across Alex’s vision. He grabbed his brush and dipped it into the yellow oil paint before quickly smearing it across the canvas, mimicking his unique interpretation of sound. He painted color into the ghosts of Michael Hutchence’s lyrics.

  Seeing the music, as he called it, had always come natural to Alex. It was a blessing and a curse. His rare gift was a great distraction and his only companion in his younger years. Being able to see the shift and flow of light move through the bleak world around him made Alex acutely aware of a sublime beauty that existed even though his heart was filled with despair.

  He could still remember the first time he realized not everyone saw music.

  He was only nine and made the mistake of telling his father how cool the new Beastie Boys song looked. His father had been drunk, as he usually was, and took one look at Alex before smacking him hard enough to knock him off his feet. He’d accused Alex of being high. But of course he wasn’t, he was only nine. He’d never touched drugs and didn’t really understand how his interpretation of music made him sound like he was on some sort of hallucinogenic.

  Alex’s insistence that he wasn’t high only enraged his father further. In his drunken rage, he assumed Alex’s junkie mother had given Alex some of her drugs for her own entertainment. But of course nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Alex’s mother was a lifetime heroin addict who never showed any interest in him. She barely showed interest in anything. That day had been like most others, where she lay on the couch too strung out to move. And that’s where she was when Alex’s father beat her unconscious for no reason at all.

  To this day Alex hated himself for hiding in his room like the child he was instead of trying to protect his mother. He’d cowered under his desk and cried. That was the first ti
me Alex remembered seeing the strange blue aura that clung to his reflection. And perhaps that’s why he hated the color so much. It reminded him of his failure and cowardice.

  Despite the cool temperature of the room, sweat coated Alex’s forehead. He mopped his brow in frustration and took a swig of water, trying to regain his focus. Alex wasn’t superstitious, but something about this house was making him think of the past more than usual. And that was something he avoided at all cost. Especially while painting. Music was always his happiness. It brought vibrancy and texture to the ordinary, lifting his heart and erasing his pain. Alex clung to that feeling as he restarted the song and picked up his brush. He loaded his paint and closed his eyes before letting his hands dance across the canvas.

  Chapter 7

  Olivia

  “He’ll be here, sweetheart,” Margot said, giving Olivia’s shoulders a squeeze.

  “You give him too much credit,” Olivia mumbled.

  “And you worry too much. If your father doesn’t show up, it’s not your fault. He’s not your responsibility.”

  Olivia gave her aunt a weak smile, but it was useless. She didn’t have any joy left. She’d been sitting in the hospital waiting room for over three hours. And each time one of her teary-eyed cousins came out from saying their goodbyes to her grandmother, Olivia felt the broken pieces of her heart splinter further.

  Olivia stood when she saw Bex come out of Gran’s room.

  “You’re next,” Bex said sniffling as she moved past Olivia to hug Margot.

  Olivia bit her lip and tried to keep her tears at bay as she walked toward her grandmother’s room. Grand was waiting at the open door to usher Olivia into the posh hospital room. It looked like a luxury hotel room—as if dressing it up would make you forget you were in a hospital and your world was unraveling. Olivia braced herself for the worst when she moved past the soft glow of the curtain that hid Gran’s bed from view.