Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Chloe

Eyes closed, I lie back on the dock. The hot sun beats down on me, and I’ve been sweating since the minute I came out here. There are quite a few people out on the lake today, and the distant sound of boats and jet skis interrupts the quiet of the forest surrounding the lake. Silver Lake is large and kind of horseshoe-shaped. It’s divided into two parts, with the part Dad’s house is on being the “quiet side” of the lake reserved for fishing or any other sort of activity that doesn’t produce a wake. Its counterpart is where the fun happens, and the annual boat races are still held every July, just like they were years ago.

I didn’t grow up along the lake like this. We lived in a small house right in the middle of Silver Ridge. Mom always wanted to live on lakefront property, but even in this small town, it was too expensive. It was her dream to buy one of the historic homes and fix it up, but she died before that could ever happen.

When this house popped up for sale, I jumped on it, but then almost backed out at the last minute because the thought of fulfilling Mom’s dream without her hurt too much. I’d only been living in LA for a few months at that time, and Shadowfall had just gotten optioned for film, so I was overwhelmed on all ends. I went to bed with every intention of getting up and calling the bank to tell them I’m out, and that night I dreamed about Mom. She told me we all needed this house, and she’d be mad if I let this house go and someone else bought it and turned it into a cheesy bed-and-breakfast. Plus, she didn’t like seeing Dad alone in the house she died in, and said this house would be good for him. Dad likes a project, even though I was planning on hiring contractors to handle the much-needed renovations.

Three months after moving in, Dad went on his first date since Mom died. And to this day he’s still dating Wendy, the next-door neighbor who lost her husband in a car accident three years after Mom died.

A fishing boat goes by, with county music playing too loud for my liking. Any volume is too loud for country music in my opinion, though. Male voices drift over the music and the water, and I’m tempted to sit up and glare at them. Instead, I cover my face with my dark red hair, using it to block out the sun.

I doze off, startling awake when the dock shakes under someone’s feet. I sit up, blinking in the bright light, and see Dad coming down toward me.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad. It’s five already?”

“Five-thirty, actually. I got held up at work.” Dad’s a supervisor at an electrical company, and after years of working holidays, weekends, and midnights, has a nice Monday-through-Friday, nine-to-five job.

“Everything good?” I ask, lazily stretching and grabbing my cover-up. I pull it over my head, and the sheer material sticks to the sweat on my back.

“It is now. I thought you were joining us for dinner.”

“Go without me,” I say. Coming home was so spur-of-the-moment, I didn’t realize that today was Dad and Wendy’s anniversary. They’ve had reservations tonight at a nice place half an hour away for weeks, and a mini-vacation planned a few days later. Dad feels bad they’re leaving basically as soon as I got here, but the quiet will help me concentrate on my book. “I already ate.”

“Really?” Dad questions. “What did you have?”

“Half a jar of blue-cheese-stuffed olives and almost a full bottle of Merlot.”

“And here I was, worried that living in LA would turn you into a health-conscious hippy who only eats kale and seaweed.”

“Hah. Though I am all about kombucha right now.” I get up, feeling exhausted from the heat. “And seriously, Dad, go out with Wendy tonight. I’m going to get my laptop and come back out here tonight and try to write. Karina’s already texted me three times asking how much I’ve gotten written.”

Dad chuckles. “She does know you just landed this morning, right?”

“Late this morning.” I use the bottom of my swimsuit cover-up to blot up the sweat on my face. “And Rebecca is going to start hounding me soon too.”

“She’s your editor? Agent?”

“Personal assistant. Lupe is my editor and Vanessa is my agent.”

Dad smiles, looking at me in the way only a proud parent can. “You have people. Too many to keep track of.”

I wave my hand in the air. “It sounds fancier than it actually is.”

“And you’re still modest to boot. We’re all so proud of you, you know. Your picture is still up in City Hall.”

“That’s a horrible picture.” I laugh, knowing exactly which one he’s talking about. Small Town Girl Gets Big Time Publishing Deal is the headline of the newspaper article, with a hastily snapped photo of me holding up my book, smiling like a lunatic. Only Farisha knows I was drunk at the time of the interview and photo. She came over with two bottles of wine, with the intention of choosing one to crack open and drink to celebrate the news.

Of course we drank both, and the reporter from the Silver Ridge Times showed up an hour before I expected him to, though it’s not like an hour would have done me much good after consuming an entire bottle of Shiraz.

“Your most recent headshots are nice,” Dad says. “You look like your mother in a few of them.”

We both smile, hearts aching, and start to walk down the dock. “Maybe I’ll sneak in and tape one of my better photos over that horrible one.”

“The article is in black and white and your photos are in color. No one will notice.”

“See? It’s a solid plan.”

“How’s Charles?” Dad asks. He and Farisha are the only ones outside our little PR bubble who know the truth, and Charles was the one to break down and tell Dad a few Christmases ago after Dad misread Charles’s weird behavior as him being nervous to ask my father’s permission to marry me.

“Busy, but good. They’re wrapping up filming the end of the season and then he’ll start on that new action movie you’re excited to see, and yes, he already said he’ll make sure you get to go to the premiere.” I shake my head. “Walk your father down the red carpet once and he gets addicted. I’ve created a monster.”

Dad laughs and rests his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Chloe. And I know your mother would be too.”

My eyes prick with tears and my throat tightens. I give a small nod, knowing if I opened my mouth to say something back, my voice would come out all squeaky. Balloon, Dad’s dog, yips excitedly by the gate when we come into view. The dog came with his name, given to him by a three-year-old boy. I’m not sure why the dog was surrendered to the animal shelter, but at five years old, he was used to his name, and Dad didn’t have the heart to change it. Shortening it to Ball or Loon didn’t really work, so Balloon it is.

“Hey, buddy,” Dad says, picking up the little dog. I pet him, knowing he won’t calm down until he greets me. Yawning, I go right into the kitchen and grab the bottle of Merlot from the counter.

“Please tell me Uber Eats or DoorDash has finally come to Silver Ridge.”

“What is that?”

I raise an eyebrow, letting Dad know I’m not amused. “So that’s a no.”

“Correct, kiddo. But Silver Pizza delivers. I don’t think they’ll put spinach or broccoli on the pizza for you, though,” he teases. Overly stereotyping me as a valley girl is a running joke between us.

“I just do tofu now. On a cauliflower crust.”

“I almost want to be there when you order, just to see their faces,” Dad laughs.

“A normal pizza sounds really good right now, actually.”

The front door opens, and Balloon goes running through the kitchen, nails clicking against the wooden floor. A few seconds later Wendy comes bustling into the kitchen, carrying a tray full of baked goods.

“Chloe!” she coos, setting the tray down on the counter. She pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She pats my back and lets me go, looking me up and down. “And look at you! I swear you look younger than the last time I saw you. LA has been good to you!”

“It’s the Botox,” I admit with a laugh.

“Take me with you next time!”

“I’ll schedule us a double appointment when you guys come out next.”

“Oh, please,” Dad huffs. “Neither of you need that. Especially you, Chloe. You’re only thirty-two.”

I bring my fingers to my forehead. “I had lines, Dad,” I say dramatically.

Dad holds his hands up. “Oh no, not lines! Anything but the lines.”

Wendy laughs and rolls her eyes. “What am I going to do with this one?”

“He’s your problem now, not mine,” I say, laughing as well. “You guys better get going if you want to make it to your reservation in time.”

“You’re not joining us?” Wendy brushes her blonde hair back off her neck.

“No, I’m not going to crash your date. And I have work to do.”

“Ohhhh, and maybe later you’ll tell me spoilers! You’re not going to kill Marcus, are you? That cliffhanger was cruel, lady!”

I laugh. “Oh, I know. I drank my coffee out of that tears of my readers mug every morning while writing that book.”

“Fitting,” Wendy chuckles. “But really, Marcus is going to be okay, right?”

“I don’t know. The demon hunters do have him cornered.”

“Enough shop-talk,” Dad says and picks up Balloon. He puts the little dog in my arms and opens the junk drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a card and a small box wrapped in pretty purple paper. It’s not a ring, I know that for sure. Both Dad and Wendy said they weren’t sure if they ever wanted to get married again, but here they are celebrating yet another anniversary. And I know for a fact Wendy spends most of her time here at this house with Dad. They’ve talked before about having her move in officially and then renting out her house for extra income, enabling them both to retire earlier than they planned.

I don’t know what it’s like to be with someone you love more than anything, who loves you right back. And I certainly don’t know what it’s like to have that person taken away from you. I really like Wendy, and Mom totally approves of her, as she told me in another dream. She’s the opposite of my mother, who was creative and free-spirited. Wendy’s a paralegal at Silver Ridge’s only law office. She’s worked the same job her whole adult life, has short, blonde hair, loves routines, and owns more cleaning products than the cleaning company who cleans my house every week.

But she’s fun and caring and makes Dad happy, which is all that matters. We get along well, and she’s one of my biggest fans, raving about my books to anyone who’ll listen.

“For me?” Wendy asks, blue eyes widening when she sees the card and present in my father’s hands.

“You have to wait until after dinner. And after you give me my gift,” Dad says with a wink.

Wendy rolls her eyes again and loops her arm through Dad’s. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, dear. And know I’m here to brainstorm ideas if you need someone.”

“Taking one for the team, I see.” Dad steps forward, tugging Wendy with him. “Enjoy your tofu-and-chia-seed pizza.”

“Bye, Dad.”

I follow them to the front, locking the door behind them once they leave. “Want to share a pizza with me?” I ask Balloon, setting him on the ground. Going back into the kitchen, I pour the remaining Merlot into a glass and look up Silver Ridge Pizza’s number.

“Yes,” I say to myself when I see an option to order online so I won’t have to call and talk to anyone. It’ll be about half an hour for the pizza to get here. Taking the glass of Merlot with me, I go onto the screened-in porch, where I left my laptop and notebook. I know what I want to happen in this next book, and no, I’m not killing my vampire, Marcus. Charles would kill me if I killed him off in the books, though I’m sure the showrunners would keep him on. The show follows the books pretty well, with some original storylines set up for some side characters, giving them more screen time than I’d been able to write for them.

Breaking my self-imposed rule of avoiding social media this trip so I can focus on my book, I go to I*******m and reply to a few comments and messages. I do my best to interact with fans because it honestly still blows my fucking mind I have fans.

Then I fall down a murder mystery rabbit hole until the doorbell rings. My stomach grumbles at the thought of pizza, and I don’t even bother with a plate. I take the entire box back to the screened-in porch, shoving a piece in my mouth.

“This is so good,” I tell Balloon, picking off a slice of pepperoni and tossing it to him. He gets gassy if he gets too much people food, but he sleeps with Dad and Wendy, not me.

There’s a ceiling fan out here on the porch, and when the weather is a little cooler and you crank that thing on high, it’s really pleasant out here. But with a warm, sticky breeze coming in from the lake, it’s hot no matter how hard that little fan spins. I suffer through the heat so I can eat two more pieces of pizza, slowly sipping the rest of the Merlot. I look out at the water as I eat, doing my best not to think of anything, which really just reminds me how talkative my damn brain is.

Like for real, just shut up every once in a while. Live in the moment and feel the Zen or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to do, okay? Rolling my eyes at myself, I put the pizza crust back in the box. I ordered crust with garlic sauce brushed on it, thinking it would be like a breadstick and I’d be able to eat it. It’s strange, I know, that I love breadsticks but don’t like pizza crust.

Stopping myself from eating yet another slice of pizza and then being gassy the rest of the night just like Balloon, I close the box and get up, feeling instant relief when I step into the air-conditioned living room. The sun is still shining through the large windows, but it has that evening glow, the kind that promises a reprieve from the harshness of the hot sun while still holding onto the heat of the day.

My heart swells in my chest as I look around the living room. It’s so different yet the same, with updated photos on the gallery wall. Most are of me, a few are of Balloon, and the rest are Dad and Wendy. Wendy’s husband passed before they had children, and she confessed not that long ago she still regrets never allowing herself to move on and have a baby before she became too old to. But it all worked out, she says, because she met my father when she needed him most.

There’s a large stone fireplace centered in the far wall of the living room, perfect for winter nights when the lake is nearly frozen over and frost and snow cling to the surrounding trees. I came here two Christmases ago, arriving the day before Christmas Eve and then not being able to leave until the end of December thanks to a snowstorm. Since I moved, I’ve only returned to Silver Ridge a handful of times, and they've all been quick trips.

Two days for Thanksgiving. Three for Christmas. One for Dad’s birthday. Dad picks me up from the airport and drives to the house. We’re busy and time flies and I don’t leave the house. It’s safe, keeping me in a little bubble. Come home with a reason, stay distracted, and then leave.

I haven’t been back like this in, hell, six years. Not having a busy schedule or an organized agenda makes me anxious. Because when I don’t know exactly what to do every minute of every day, my mind starts to wander.

And being back here…looking around the house and hearing the happy chatter and distant rumble of boats out on the lake…it makes me worry my heart will wander as well.