When I woke this morning, I had been in a grumpy mood, same as the previous two days. I hadn’t been able to write music in months, something that had never happened to me. Now here I was, Sebastian Miles, front man for the rock band Paradox, unable to write a single line. I had always been able to pen a song; it’s what made us famous. Our lyrics have helped sell albums and buy us fans. I guess our good looks hadn’t hurt either. I was aware that I was a good-looking man, so were the other guys in the band, but the only thing my looks had made me were money and lonely. I had women falling at my feet, and I was ashamed of the stories reported about how I used to get around. I’ll admit that I was not proud of a lot of the decisions I had made since becoming famous.

I had a girlfriend once, until one bad decision took her away. Out of my life forever. That kind of blow can be devastating to a young man who spent most of his days thinking he had the world in his grasp. I’d since learned that being with a woman physically didn’t do anything to help the emotional hurt buried deep inside. The idea of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with always nagged at the back of my brain. My parents have been happily married for more than thirty years, and watching them interact with one another even today made the emptiness in my heart ache that much more. My brother, Travis, has been married to his beautiful wife, Natalie, for ten years, having dated since they were fifteen and eloping at the tender age of nineteen. Their daughter, Olivia, just turned three and was the light of my life. Even my little sister found happiness, having just announced her engagement to Ben, the man of her dreams. I was surrounded by love; only none of it was my own. I knew my family loved me immensely. We were a tight-knit group that enjoyed one another’s company, and we spent every Sunday night gathered at our parents’ house for dinner and a jam session. Life was full, I was busy, money was great, but I was lonely. I knew all too well what I was missing, and that sucked.

The past year had been rough on me. During my time in rehab I vowed to put the past behind me and start over. Gone were the drugs and the booze, and I most certainly didn’t need the distraction of a woman. All of the women in my life since Charlotte had been after me for only one reason: to advance their careers. I honestly wouldn’t mind having a woman in my life, but the idea of meeting the right one seemed like a fairy tale at this point. Mom had always told me that when the right one came along, I would know it. I didn’t understand what she meant by that, yet I didn’t doubt her. Mom had always been my biggest supporter, even through the rough times, and when it came to love, she and Dad had something I could only dream about.

* * *

Running always seemed to clear my head. Even in high school, when I was dealing with all of the teenage drama that envelopes you when you are young and impressionable, I’d enjoyed running. The beach was quiet this morning, surprising considering it was a sunny eighty-two degrees without a cloud in the sky. Perfect weather for a walk or a run, which was the norm for this health-conscious town.

I had just made it past my first checkpoint when I saw her sitting on the bench, sipping coffee and staring sadly out over the vast expanse of water before her. Without giving it a second thought, I slowed down, joining her on the bench. My lungs screamed at me in protest as I had pushed myself too hard. I startled her when I spoke; she was so deep in thought. When she turned to me, the lonely ache in my heart dissipated. She looked like an angel. Her hair was the color of honey, loose curls draped down past the middle of her back. She had eyes the color of the ocean. Her lips were the prettiest color of pink, and a slightly upturned nose sat perfectly in the center of her heart-shaped face. My heart warmed instantly as everything around me seemed to fade into oblivion; the only thing that mattered sat right before me. For the first time in nearly two years, I felt something stir within me. I fell hard, and I didn’t know a thing about her, but I felt myself wishing I could change that.

We made polite small talk; I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. I was Sebastian Miles, rock star and wooer of women everywhere; I never got nervous. But with her, I was a nervous wreck. It took all the strength I had just to ask her name. It was obvious she didn’t recognize me, and for once I was glad. We chatted about her interview, and I did my best to encourage her, hoping I helped boost her confidence. I silently prayed she would get the job, so I might have the chance to run into her again. I felt a strong desire to remain there on that bench for the rest of the day, but I knew she had some place to be, and I didn’t want to come off too desperate. The problem was that she was leaving, going back home to Michigan, which was a long ways away. I had never been there, but I had the sudden urge to pack up everything I owned and follow her all the way back to that little mitten. But instead, I said my good-byes and made my way down the pier, finishing my run. In hindsight, I should have stayed with her; my focus had been shot to hell, and there was no way I could think about anything other than her beautiful, blue eyes. One look at her, and all smoothness went straight out the window, and I became a lovesick teenager again.

I hit my final landmark and turned around, hoping that she might still be sitting on the bench, but knowing in my heart she would be long gone. The song on my music app switched, and I passed the space where we had been sitting not fifteen minutes earlier. I smiled, remembering her sweet demeanor and the way her name had rolled off her tongue. When I reached the wooden path, I stopped dead in my tracks. There, lying along the edge of the path, was a young woman dressed in black shorts with a pink tank. The ache in my heart was back when I recognized her honey-blonde hair tinged with blood spilled out onto the path. As I got closer, the muscles around my heart clenched tighter, making it harder to breathe. It was her. Someone had hurt my Brooke.

Suddenly, everything around me went silent as I dropped to one knee, cupped the back of her head gently, and bent to listen for a heartbeat. She was alive, thankfully, and still fully clothed. I murmured a silent prayer of thanks, and as I inched closer, I could hear the faint sounds of a garbled cry. She was trying to speak.

“It’s okay, Brooke; I’m here with you. You are safe now.” I moved closer to inspect the wound on her head; it appeared to be from a hard blow. Her eyelids fluttered open, and I shifted my body so she could see my face and hopefully recognize me as someone she could trust, even though she barely knew me. Her eyes grew large when they locked onto mine, and I knew she was about to panic.

“Honey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you; I’m here to help. I just found you on the path; you’ve got a nasty bump on your head. I need for you to trust me, okay? I’m going to pick you up and take you to get some help.” She nodded slightly before squeezing her eyes shut again. I slipped my arms beneath her and stood, lifting her limp body.

The walk to the car felt as if I were going in slow motion. My head spun frantically as I decided my best course of action. Getting to the hospital in this traffic would take too long, so I grabbed my phone and punched in the number of the band’s personal physician and close friend. Steve had been a surgeon at a prominent hospital in Colorado when we had a chance meeting at a charity event. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and now he worked at the hospital here in L.A. part-time, and remained on-call for the band, touring with us every twelve to fifteen months. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Yeah, buddy, what’s up?” he asked, voice sounding a touch out of breath.

“Yeah, you okay there, Steve? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Oh, sure, no I’m okay. Just wrestling around on the floor with the kids. Everything okay?”

“I’ve got a bit of a problem. I need you to meet me at my house, and bring your medical bag. I think stitches may be in order,” I said, squinting at the wound on her head, where the blood had finally begun to coagulate and slowed down to a slow trickle. I looked around the backseat and grabbed a T-shirt I had tossed back there yesterday, placing it carefully over the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

“What have you done to yourself now, Sebastian?” he asked, as I continued driving.

“It’s not me; it’s a young woman I met at the beach. We talked a bit, then she went her way, and I went mine,” I switched on the turn signal, jumping on the freeway toward home. “Are you on your way? I’m only about ten minutes out.” I blew out a long breath, trying to calm my nerves. “I finished my run and found her lying on the path, she was attacked and has a bad gash on the back of her head; it’s bleeding pretty badly. Getting her to the hospital would take too long. I figured it was faster for you to come to me. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m already on the road and will be there just about the same time you’re pulling in. Is she conscious?”

“In and out, but she is breathing. She is pretty pale.” I looked over at her, instantly wishing I had chosen the hospital. I sped up, hoping no one pulled out in front of me as I made my way along the winding neighborhood streets.

“That would most likely be from shock and the blood loss. I’m sure everything will be okay,” he replied, doing his best to reassure me. “Head wounds bleed a lot; that’s normal. Where are you now?”

“I’m just turning onto my street; I’ll see you in a few then?”

“Right behind you, buddy.” He chuckled. I checked the rearview mirror, and there he was, turning onto my street, true to his word and always on time. We pulled into the drive, and I carefully lifted her out of the car and started for the house, Steve following closely behind, probing her head.

“This is bad, but not too worrisome. I’ll clean it up and put in a few staples.” He pulled out a funny-looking contraption, holding it up for me to inspect. “Can you get me some clean towels, two soaked and two dry, and bring me that trash can?” I ran to the bathroom to gather the supplies and came back to find her lying on my dining room table with Steve at one end holding a syringe. He peered up at me from his position and answered my unspoken question. “Something to numb the area. I don’t want her to wake up screaming in pain. It’s going to be startling enough for her to come to and find herself in a stranger’s home. I’ve also given her a shot of antibiotics and a painkiller; she’s going to have a nasty headache. You say you just met her?” I nodded.

I watched intently as he cleaned her head wound, admiring the way he worked so calmly and with such precision. Fifteen minutes later, she was as good as new, except for the few pieces of metal in her head, lying on a spare bed located in my guest wing. Steve finished washing his hands and found me standing in the doorway, watching her sleep.

“She’ll probably be out for another hour or two. I should warn you that when she wakes up, she might not remember you. It’s not uncommon for patients with head trauma to appear confused, or not remember events that happened a few days prior to the incident. Here are the prescriptions. I think you should bring her to the hospital for a head scan tomorrow morning. I want to be sure there isn’t any internal damage.” I took the slip of paper from his outstretched hand and looked down at it.

“Thanks, Steve.” I ran a hand over my mouth and sighed. “She’s going to be okay?”

“I think she’s going to be fine, but I want to be sure.” He furrowed his brow before continuing. “Is there anything you want to share with me? The way you’re staring at her leads me to believe something is going on here.”

“I don’t know. I can’t put it into words, but there is something about her…” My mind drifted for a moment, thinking about her smile. “It’s like when you come across the perfect gift for someone you care about, and you know you just have to buy it, that’s how it was when I met her today. There’s just something about her that makes me want to know her better, to take care of her. I don’t even know her last name.”

“Oh, I do, it’s Caldwell. When I slipped her shorts down to give her a shot, her phone fell out of her pocket,” he said, handing me the phone.

“Yeah, she told me her first name at the beach. Brooke Caldwell,” I said her full name out loud; it sounded great rolling off my tongue as well. I said it a few more times, making Steve laugh on his way out the door.

“You’ve got it bad already, my friend, and she most likely has no clue who you even are. Good luck, and make sure you get her to the hospital within a day or two for that scan.”

“You got it, buddy, thanks for everything.” With that, he was out the door, and Brooke and I were all alone.

* * *

I gathered a few items and set up a workstation in the corner of the guest room. I knew she would be waking up soon and, if what Steve had said was true, she might be scared to death that the attacker had kidnaped her or something. I hoped she would remember talking with me before the incident; maybe there would be some small chance she had felt about me the same way I had felt about her after our short meeting. I couldn’t shake this feeling; I’ve never had a woman get to me quite the way Brooke did. I stared at her carefully, taking in all of her delicate features. Her hands were small, yet they looked strong, most likely from years of working in the kitchen. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five foot five, and looked quite fit. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that made me sad; it stirred something within me that made me want to look after her and protect her, the way my father cares for my mother. I wanted to know all about her. Did she have someone who already loved her? Did she love them? Was she leaving Michigan to escape something or someone in her life? Was she happy there? And finally, how could I convince her to stay here with me for a few days, just so we could have a chance to get to know one another better? And if she did agree to stay, would I be able to let her go when she decided it was time to go home?