“Athena went off to college, got a degree in journalism, and we all thought she’d go onto bigger and better things. She always had a way about her, she was fearless when she was younger, but after she was attacked, well, it was like she withdrew from the world. I know talking to Dean that she’s done well for herself as an author, not that she’d tell me that, she’s humble. But Athena lost some of her spark after that.”
I lean forward, my hands gripping the mug in my hands with a ferocity I didn’t know I possessed.
“Athena was attacked?”
Dad raises his eyebrows and nods. “Yeah, happened about three years ago. I don’t know all the details, I just know she came home, bought old Mrs. Hume’s home, and she’s never left.”
“How badly was she hurt?”
“Kris, it was years ago. What does it matter?” asks Sophia.
“It matters because I’ve known Athena my whole life. She’s family. Why wasn’t I told?”
“Kris, you,” Dad glances at Sophia and shrugs. “Well, son, you left. And you didn’t exactly keep in touch.”
I stand. “Yeah, but I talk to TB every month, and he never said anything.”
Dad looks up at me. “I guess he figured you didn’t care. From what Dean told me, you didn’t so much as say goodbye to her. You just never came back.”
He’s right.
I left Athena.
I left this town, and I didn’t look back.
“I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m down at the docks tomorrow helping Petey out.”
I shrug. “I’ll come help out, too.”
Dad reaches for one of my hands, turns it over, and shakes his head. “These are soft. Dock work will chew them up.”
“I’ll wear gloves. What time?”
“And what am I supposed to do tomorrow while you’re off working?” asks Sophia.
“Go shopping, do a tour of the town, you’ll be fine.” I look back at Dad and repeat myself, “What time.”
“I’m normally down there at six.”
“You’re slipping, it used to be five.”
“I told you, I got old.”
Dad stands and embraces me, pats my back once, then steps back with his hands in his pockets.
“See you at six. Come on, Sophia, I need to get to the hardware store and get some gloves.”
Dad chuckles, and I smile at him.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Livingston.” Sophia rises and holds out her hand.
“Ahh, yeah, you, too.” He glances at me, disapproval written all over his face.
Well, he was always a good judge of character, except where I was concerned. With me, he had blinders on and couldn’t see me for the person I was becoming. Maybe with time and wisdom, he can now see I’m exactly how I should be, how I was meant to be.
Chapter Eight
Athena
There’s a walled garden to the right of my home. The wind from the ocean can cut right through you in winter, so the wall helps prevent it, and in summer it provides shade from the sun. I love it. It’s my oasis away from the world. I even have an old wrought iron gate that makes a loud creaking sound whenever I enter. I always feel like I’m stepping back in time. Not that anything out here is old. I have an outdoor lounge and table in white that I spend many hours sitting at when I write. The ground is old cobblestone pavers with moss growing in the crevices, and the plants in pots out here are lush with most of them flowering, scenting the air with their blooms.
I’m lost in my writing. This one is a thriller, and I’m about to kill off the bad guy. When I write, I’m able to shut out the world. I have the radio on, but I don’t hear it. The only thing I hear are the voices in my head. Sometimes they are loud, and right now, the bad guy is about to get what’s coming to him.
“Athena?”
I jump, startled by his voice.
“Kris?”
“Yeah. Can I come in?”
He’s looking through the gate, taking everything in. I stand and pull on my sheer, long white coat. I’m wearing shorts and a tank top, and although it’s see-through, it will make me feel like I have more clothes on than I actually do.
As I move toward him, Kris smiles, and then I hear Todd’s voice in my head, ‘you are precious.’ Opening the gate, I usher him into my sanctuary.
“What brings you here?”
Kris moves past me and looks around. “Was this always here?”
“No, I had it built when I bought the place.”
“Smart, the wind must howl through here.” He touches one of my plants. “Must have made it hard to grow things.”
Sitting back at the table, I close the lid on my laptop. I’ll kill off the bad guy later.
“It used to. The walls keep the wind out and make it easy to grow things.”
“It’s beautiful.” Kris looks around my sanctuary. “You have a gap in your wall?”
“Yes, it’s so I can go out and stand at the bluff. I like to go out there and watch the storms come in.”
“Can you show me?”
“Sure.”
I walk barefoot between my walls with Kris close behind. The cobblestones give way to grass, and when we get to the bluff, I have a wooden bench cemented into the ground with a fire pit a few feet away.
Kris squats in front of my firepit. “Do you use this often?”
“Yeah, it’s nice to sit out here. Only I’m out of wood at the moment.”
Kris stands and looks out over the ocean. “The water here is so clear. It’s not like that back home.”
“LA is home now?”
Kris smiles and nods. “Yeah.” Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back as though he’s soaking up the sun.
“What brings you out here?”
The smile fades, and Kris looks back at me, those piercing blue eyes pinning me on the spot.
“I caught up with my dad today. He’s different.”
I sit on my bench. “Not really. He misses you, he’s damn proud of you. Whenever you have a new movie out, he rings and asks me if I’d like to see it.”
Kris grins and sits beside me, his arm going across the top of the bench and resting on my shoulder.
“So, you’ve seen all of my movies?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
Kris picks up a length of my hair and twists it between his fingers.
“Athena, I—” Abruptly, he stands, and one hand goes to the back of his neck, betraying his nervousness. “I owe you an apology.”
Yes, he does.
I cross my legs and look out at the ocean, desperately wishing I could avoid this conversation, but at the same time, knowing there is a lot to be said.
“Athena?”
I look up at him and realize I’ve been waiting, waiting for him to come back. And now he has, but with a brand-new girlfriend.
Is there really anything left to say?
Puffing out my cheeks, I let the air out of my lungs and smile up at him. “I need a tea. Do you want a drink?”
Without waiting for an answer, I stand and walk back into my house, going straight to the kitchen. I pull mugs out of the cupboard, fill up the kettle, and stare out the window. I know he’s followed me inside. There’s part of me that wants to rage at him, but it’s been seven years, and a lot has happened in that time.