Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  “Hello, my darling,” Gran called when she saw Olivia.

  “Gran,” Olivia gasped rushing to her grandmother’s side. “You look . . . but I thought . . .”

  “That I was dying?” Gran laughed. “Well I suppose I am, but that’s no excuse to look dreadful, now is it?”

  Olivia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she took in her grandmother’s appearance. Gran was frailer than Olivia had ever seen her, but she was still Gran. Propped up on a mountain of fluffy satin pillows, her makeup expertly applied. She was wearing her vintage jewelry, a pastel blue blouse and a beautiful silk scarf wrapped around her head in a very trendy way. She was also swirling the ice in her old-fashioned crystal rocks glass, that was undoubtedly full of gin.

  Tears won out as Olivia exploded into sobs at her grandmother’s side.

  “Oh come now, angel. I’m not dead yet. Come give me a hug.”

  Olivia gently hugged her grandmother’s thin frame, wishing she could hold her tighter and never let go.

  “I need you to do something for me, my angel,” Gran whispered.

  “Anything, Gran.”

  “Thomas?” Gran said gesturing to her husband.

  Olivia saw her grandfather disappear around the curtain. He was back in an instant with a very old friend—Olivia’s childhood cello.

  “I’d like you to play for me, Olivia. One last time.”

  Olivia balked. “Gran, I don’t really play anymore. Not since—”

  “Yes, I know. Not since your mother died. But I think this is a special occasion,” Gran said, a giant smile lighting up her soft features.

  Grand placed Olivia’s old cello on the floor pushing the neck into her trembling hands. Olivia sighed deeply letting the metallic sent of the strings wash over her. It brought her tumbling back to her past—connecting her to the emotions she tried to keep locked up.

  Olivia took the bow her grandfather offered and positioned herself on the chair next to Gran’s bed. “What do you want to hear?”

  “Anything, darling.”

  Bach had always been Olivia’s favorite. She rested the cello against her shoulder and pressed her cheek into it. It still fit perfectly. She closed her eyes, raised the bow and momentarily held her breath, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to make that kind of music again, not even for Gran, and Olivia felt her heart shatter apart in failure.

  “I’m sorry, Gran. I don’t think I can,” she whispered.

  “Thomas, would you mind giving me a moment with our favorite granddaughter?”

  Once they were alone, Gran sat up straighter and patted the bed for Olivia to join her. Olivia sat next to her grandmother, letting her stroke her long hair in her gentle motherly way. Gran had been more of a mother to Olivia than her actual mother. She’d practically raised her. All of Olivia’s good memories were from their time together at Carter Ridge. The blur of time spent living on a tour bus with her parents all blended together into one mindless haze. The only thing Olivia vividly remembered about her mother was from the day she died. And now she feared that would happen with Gran too. Olivia quaked with sadness. She loved her grandmother so much.

  How could she be expected to say goodbye to her?

  Gran took her hand. “Olivia, you were always my favorite, you know?”

  “Gran . . .”

  “No, I mean it. There’s something special about you, my angel. And that’s why I need you to do me a special favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, in my old age I’ve become more sentimental and unfortunately more forgetful. I’ve lost something very dear to me and I was hoping you could help me get it back.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s all in here,” Gran said handing Olivia a small pink envelope. “But you can’t open it until you get to the lake house. And you need to leave right now, and you need to go alone.”

  “The lake house? You want me to go to Carter Ridge?”

  “Unless I own some other lake house I’m unaware of,” Gran said coyly.

  “But Gran, I don’t want to leave you. Not now.”

  “Give me some credit, Olivia. I’m not as fragile as I look. I can hold on until you get back.”

  Olivia flipped the envelope over and over in her hand in confusion. “What did you lose?”

  “Everything you need to know is in that letter.”

  “Gran, are you sure you really need whatever it is you lost? I mean maybe it’s more important I stay here, or maybe you should send Grand for it? He knows the house better than I do.”

  “No, Olivia. It has to be you.”

  “But maybe we could just call one of the housekeepers—”

  “Damn it, Olivia. You’re the only one who can bring it back to me. I’m on my deathbed and I’m begging you for this one last favor.”

  “Okay! Okay, Gran, I’ll do it,” Olivia whispered, trying to hide her alarm at her grandmother’s agitation.

  Gran never got frustrated with Olivia, or her cousins. Not even when they were children, no matter how much havoc they caused. But her grandmother’s cool exterior had cracked and Olivia’s resolve crumbled at the sight of it. It was suddenly obvious that Gran was putting on a show of things for her family. Seeing that showmanship slip was the first sign Olivia had truly seen acknowledging that the cancer was finally winning. Gran had given her family so much.

  Who was Olivia to deny her anything?

  “Gran, I promise I’ll do this for you. But I just got here. What am I supposed to tell everyone? They’ll wonder why I’m leaving.”

  “Tell them I’m sending you on an errand and leave the rest to me, angel.”

  Chapter 8

  Alex

  One week in and Alex was well ahead of his quota. He already had sixteen paintings finished. The weather was still shit. All the reports forecasted at least another week of rain. And since the wretched downpours kept Alex indoors and unable to run, he was channeling his pent up energy into painting.

  The first few days had been rough. The silence of the house was so distracting. However, Alex had a breakthrough on the third day when he finally took the family portrait off the wall and turned it around so he wouldn’t be tempted to stare at the girl with the haunting blue aura. Until that ingenious, simple move, Alex found himself staring at the girl for hours—while cooking, while eating, while pacing the halls. Somehow, he always ended up drawn back to the melancholy smile twisted across her pretty face. Olivia—that was her name. He wasn’t proud of the stalkerish method’s he’d used to figure it out.

  Just when he’d convinced himself he was not going to be ‘that guy’—the one who googled his crush—Alex stumbled upon an amazing book about the history of Cassidy and Thomas Crain’s famous recording cottage. It was a perfect distraction.

  Or so he thought.

  The book was an incredible bio-pictorial of the couple’s music career, as well as highlighting some of the other legends that recorded at the cottage. Of course, Cassidy and Thomas’s children, who were gifted musicians themselves, were mentioned in the book, along with their children. That’s when Alex saw her again—Olivia Crain. The sad-eyed girl with the porcelain complexion that glowed blue, just for him.

  For once, Alex found himself hating black and whites. He needed to know what color her hair was, the exact shade of her eyes, the hue of lips. He wanted to know everything. And it was driving him crazy.

  But now, by day seven, Alex thought he’d mastered his demons. He blared music at all hours to chase away the lonely silence that filled the house. On his off times, when his hands cramped up and he needed a break from painting, Alex explored the house, immersing himself in the decades of fantastic music history the Carter Ridge cottage had to offer.

  Being the huge music aficionado that he was, Alex devoured all that the house had to offer. But where there were rock legends, there were tales of flames burning bright and fast. Excessive parties, tumultuous relationships and tragedies plagued many of the m
usicians after their careers took off. The sad reality of all the stars who burnt out before their time nagged at Alex.

  Was that the price of success?

  Maybe he couldn’t escape his demons after all.

  Alex had hoped getting far away from the city meant getting far away from the monsters that fed on him in the dark. But being at Carter Ridge, completely alone, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, was proving to be dangerous to his mental health.

  But what could he do about it?

  He didn’t drink or do drugs—not after how he’d seen it destroy his parents. And thanks to his newfound fame in the legitimate art community, his old crew wouldn’t even talk to him. No, all Alex had was his unique view of the world and in insatiable need to get the screaming colors out of his head before they devoured him.

  Chapter 9

  Olivia

  Olivia sighed in frustration as she boarded her red-eye flight. It was the only thing she could find with such short notice. She wished she could have taken the train. She much preferred traveling on the ground. But her grandmother had been insistent on two things: that Olivia needed to hurry, and that her cello would be accompanying her on her trip to Carter Ridge.

  Lugging a cello through the airport hadn’t been as easy as Olivia remembered. Perhaps she was out of shape since she’d gotten out of the habit of taking the giant instrument everywhere she went. After carting it through airport security she found she missed the freedom of traveling light, grateful she only had an overnight bag in addition to the cumbersome instrument.

  But now that Olivia was hurtling through the air toward Carter Ridge on her grandmother’s wild goose chase, she found a small comfort in having her cello with her. It was like an old friend had come along for the ride. It was just unfortunate that this particular old friend couldn’t help but remind Olivia of heartache and failure.

  The one small grace of flying to Carter Ridge was that the municipal airport was tiny. Her family had actually been the reason it was built. And since they used it so often, the Crain’s arranged to keep cars in the hanger as a special favor. Gran must have telephoned ahead because once Olivia landed, a white Range Rover was pulled around to collect her while she waited for her baggage. It was much appreciated in the terrible weather.

  Olivia hopped into the Range Rover, pressed the seat warmer and turned on the wipers. The weather was dreadful. She’d been lucky to get a flight in this kind of rain and fog. She looked in the rearview mirror as two men approached the SUV carrying her luggage. She popped the back hatch so they could load it.

  “No way! Livy Crain. It can’t be?” called a familiar voice.

  Olivia turned around to see a familiar rain soaked face loading her cello into the car.

  “Oh my God! David Crowley! I haven’t seen you in years!”

  “Yeah. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I thought you were in LA? Didn’t expect to see you in these parts. What’d you miss me, or just my cooking?” David joked.

  Olivia laughed remembering the time David brought pot brownies to the cottage for her and Bex, but her grandparents accidentally ate them. “You know I have been craving your brownies.”

  David snorted. “Well I’m off this weekend if you get hungry.”

  “I wish. I think this will be a short trip. I’ve got to get back to New York. Gran isn’t doing well.”

  The lightheartedness left David’s voice. “I’m sorry to hear that, Liv. Give her my love, will you?”

  She nodded.

  “And I’m around if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, David.”

  He closed the hatch and waved her on.

  As Olivia drove she thought about David. She’d almost forgot about him. That’s what happens when you run away. You forget about people.

  Or at least that’s what Olivia tried to do.

  David still looked the same—bright smile, kind eyes. He’d been a good friend to her. Now that she thought about it, David was probably her only friend that wasn’t family. Olivia had stopped trusting people after Rhys—even the good ones.

  Bex always thought David had a crush on Olivia.

  But what did it matter now?

  That had been years ago and Olivia had given up on the idea of love. In her experience, it only ever brought pain into her life.

  Olivia pushed her thoughts away and concentrated on the drive. The roads were treacherous on a good day. But tonight’s weather would have deterred even the most seasoned adventurer. Luckily, Olivia could do the drive with her eyes closed. She navigated the foggy switchbacks easily in the Range Rover. She was grateful David had been mindful enough to give her the SUV instead of Gran’s sporty Mercedes. The Range Rover handled the washed out roads and branches easily. Plus, she couldn’t deny how much she loved the way the heated leather seats hugged her weary body.

  After a white-knuckle drive, Olivia finally saw the house come into view. She hit the garage door opener and pulled up to the new section of the lake house. Her grandparents had renovated it over the years to fit their needs. There was a whole new addition built on for Jacob’s family, along with six separate cottages so creatives could continue to use the property without disrupting Cassidy and Thomas’s family time.

  Despite the state of the art refurbishing in the new addition, Olivia preferred the main house. It still had that otherworldly feel of places that existed in a simpler era. And even though there was room for her with her cousins in the new addition, Olivia always stayed in the attic bedroom of the main house. It had been Gran’s room and therefore it became Olivia’s favorite room. It’s where she’d learned to play the cello all those years ago.

  Olivia parked the Range Rover and sealed off the raging sound of rain with the garage door. She grabbed her overnight bag and shut the hatch, leaving her cello safely inside. Olivia still wasn’t sure why Gran had insisted she bring it, but she wasn’t going to lug it into the house if she didn’t have to. Besides, she didn’t plan on staying long. Hopefully she could find what she needed and get a flight out in the morning.

  Olivia flipped on the lights in the hallway that led to the main house. She was only inside for a moment when the familiar smell of the cottage threatened to whisk her back to her childhood—a time filled with laughter, music and Gran’s baking. She clung to those happy memories, pushing the darker ones away as she opened the door to the main house.

  She paused, suddenly aware the lights were on and there was racket coming from the kitchen—along with the smell of bacon. Olivia glanced at her watch. It was nearly two in the morning!

  Who would be cooking breakfast at this hour?

  And in the family house?

  Guests weren’t allowed in the main house anymore. Ever since the incident with the Goo Goo Dolls, Grand demanded all musicians stay in the cottages.

  Fear prickled Olivia’s spine, but she pushed it down as she slowly moved forward.

  Gran hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be here.

  But then again she was getting old and her memory wasn’t what it used to be—she’d said so herself.

  Maybe it was just Gretchen, the housekeeper.

  Gretchen lived in a small cottage nearby and was always stopping in to keep the house in top form.

  A million practical thoughts ran through Olivia’s mind but none prepared her for what she saw.

  A shirtless man—no make that a shirtless god—was dancing around her grandmother’s kitchen like a lunatic while tending a sizzling array of pots and pans at the stove. He was wearing large headphones and baggy black sweats which hung from his perfectly sculpted body. Olivia couldn’t hide her smirk as she watched him twitch his lean body to some beat she couldn’t hear. He was covered in colorful tattoos and she found herself tilting her head to try to make them out.

  Olivia caught her own leering reflection in the large picture window and suddenly felt as though she was the intruder in her grandparent’s home. She cleared her throat to announce her arrival—no response.
She stamped her foot—nothing.

  “Excuse me,” Olivia called.

  But it was to no avail. The man kept dancing and Olivia didn’t know what else to do but enjoy the show. She felt like a voyeur standing in the shadows, but short of getting close enough to touch the stranger—which didn’t seem like the best idea—she didn’t know what else to do. So Olivia watched as one of the hottest men she’d ever seen gave her a private dance. Too bad he was completely unaware of the effect he was having on her.

  Olivia felt her cheeks flush as she watched him shake his perfect ass. Her eyes traveled up his toned back to his muscular shoulders. They were speckled with glistening beads of water and his short, dark hair was still wet, as though he’d just had a shower. Suddenly Olivia was imagining him in the shower and her mouth went dry.

  Shit! Get ahold of yourself, Olivia.

  But she couldn’t. The more she watched, the more her inner goddess commanded her to do nothing to stop the show. This was the most action Olivia had had in months. If you counted her one night lapse in judgment with her music theory partner—which Olivia tried to forget—she hadn’t been with a guy in six months. Not her longest drought but still a good one. Which was why she was having such a hard time peeling her eyes away from the gorgeousness in front of her.

  Christ, look at his abs.

  He must be a swimmer.

  It was right at that moment that Olivia realized if she was staring at his front that meant he must be staring at—

  His yelp ripped through the air, tearing her gaze away from the stranger’s delicious abs to his startlingly handsome face. Her eyes took in his chiseled cheekbones and alarmed green eyes before he tore off his headphones and began to say something. But Olivia couldn’t hear him over her own string of apologetic blabbering.