The first day after Grant leaves is a productive one, consisting mostly of me lying in bed with my laptop on my stomach as words fly by in beautiful cascades of black and white. I’m on fire, synthesizing the drama of my life into beauty on the page.

I was afraid to be left alone with a stalker on the prowl, but Pete is a saint and he makes me feel nothing but safe and protected.

Even my health is improving. While it had been quite painful to move about the cabin just yesterday, I’ve suddenly found myself incredibly mobile. The aches have mostly disappeared, along with the swelling and bruises, fading away as my body continues to fight the good fight on my behalf.

By the next day, I’m calling Grant and telling him I’d like to come to the big show.

“You need to rest,” he reminds me, my boyfriend’s thick British accent slightly difficult to understand through the static filled cellphone that’s pressed against my head. “There’s gonna be a hundred of other shows.”

“But this is the comeback!” I remind him, leaning forward against the wooden railing of our deck and gazing down into the lush green forest below. “And it’s my song!”

“You’ll be hearing that song for the rest of your life,” Grant informs me. “It’s a blessing and a curse. Trust me.”

“So you don’t want me to come?” I continue.

Grant lets out a long sigh. “I’d love for you to come, actually, but I’m trying to be responsible here.”

“I don’t get it,” I counter.

“Every day we have a series of choices, some of them good, some bad, and some of them right down the middle. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which one is which, but most of the time we know. Do you follow me?” he questions.

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

“When I first met you, I was making all the wrong choices, and deep down I knew it,” Grant continues. “My life was falling apart but I didn’t care. Every time I’d see those crossroads coming, I’d make the wrong turn. After you left, I told myself I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I’m not always gonna know which path is the right one, but I’m gonna try my hardest to make my best guess; the responsible guess.”

“I appreciate that,” I tell him, once again floored but how much effort this man has put into his future; into our future.

“I’d love for you to be at the show,” Grant continues, “and the old me would’ve said ‘fuck the doctor’s advice, get here as fast as you can,’ but that’s not the responsible path.”

“I can’t believe that you’re the one telling me to be responsible,” I laugh. “The whole world is upside down.”

Grant chuckles. “If you really want to come, you should come. I would love to have you here.”

I take a deep breath, then let it out, struggling to be inspired by Grant’s maturity. “No, you’re right. There’s plenty of other shows, and I need to rest.”

Through the earpiece of my phone I can hear someone calling out to Grant.

“Aw fuck,” my boyfriend groans. “Another interview’s about to start. They just got here and I can already tell they’re gonna be pricks.”

“Good choices,” I remind him.

“Right, right,” Grant replies, straightening himself out a bit. “How’s Pete, by the way?”

I glance over at the bodyguard who sits quietly at the edge of the deck, eyes wide open as he diligently scans the tree line.

“Oh, he’s amazing,” I reply.

“Good,” Grant starts, then suddenly shifts gears. “Okay, gotta run.”

The line goes dead.

I put my phone back into my coat pocket and take a minute to draw in the fresh, cool air through my nostrils. It’s hard to be responsible, I realize. Even for me.

Not wanting to dive right back into my writing just yet, I glance over at Pete.

“Wanna go for a walk?” I ask the man.

Pete nods. “You sure you can do that?’

“I wouldn’t say I’m sure, but I’d like to see where I’m at,” I reply.

Pete stands up and watches me closely as I make my way across the deck, down onto the front yard and towards the road. My pace is good, actually, no longer any trace of a limp at all. My lungs still feel heavy, but not enough to slow me down.

Pete falls into step next to me. “You’re doing great.”
“So far, so good,” I reply with confidence.

The two of us make our way down the hill, slowly at first and then gaining speed as I find the confidence behind my step. I quickly realize that most of what’s been holding me back is the full day I’ve spent off my feet, my muscles a little sore and locked up from their lack of use.

“You’ve done a good thing getting that guy to settle down,” Pete informs me. “I didn’t think it was possible, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah?” I question. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried his old friend Pete would see things differently.”

“Nobody likes an asshole,” Pete reminds me. “Grant has a really good thing buried deep underneath all that bullshit, but I’d rather the bullshit just wasn’t there to begin with. Of course, you already know that.”

“I do,” I offer with a nod.

“I just hope it sticks,” Pete says, almost as an afterthought. I can tell that he regrets the words immediately after they leave his mouth. Pete’s a good friend, and he doesn’t want to talk bad about his buddy, especially not to me.

“Why wouldn’t it stick?” I question.

Pete shakes his head. “I’m just running my mouth now. Grant’s a good dude.”

“Why wouldn’t it stick?” I ask again, demanding to know.

Still, Grant refuses to go there. “Just, keep an eye on him,” the bodyguard tells me.

“Looks like we’ve got a similar job,” I finally reply with a smile. “Keeping a close eye on a recovering asshole.”

Strolling down the hill like this is strangely cathartic. I’m retracing my path towards the big crash, only now I’m in complete control of the situation. The light streaming down through the thick evergreens above is much more glorious when you have a chance to actually take it all in.

Pete and me arrive at the first switchback, and then the next. Finally, we reach the straightaway where Grant swerved off the road. All of the metal has been hauled away, but piles of broken glass remain scattered along the hillside and sprinkled over the pavement from when the car was removed. The tree that we hit is still standing, but bent slightly backwards as through it’s in the midst of some gleeful cackle. All of the bark has been torn from its trunk, leaving a massive tan slash of exposed flesh underneath.

“Still standing,” I observe. “Just like me.”
Pete nods, struggling to catch his breath. For a bodyguard, the guy doesn’t have much endurance, but then again his size is not entirely muscle. “You wanna keep walking?” he asks.

“Just a bit farther,” I reply with a nod. Turning to continue down the road.

It’s only now that I see it, massive red words splattered out across the ground before us. The red is so dark that it almost appears black, but then lightens up in various places where the blood has dried. I stop dead in my tracks, staring at the words in utter shock.

Tonight’s the night, it reads. P. S. Nice cameras.

“Oh my god,” I stammer, immediately on high alert. I begin to glance around in the woods, terrified someone out there might be watching us.

Pete pulls his gun from the holster, not quite ready to raise it just yet, but holding it steady as his eyes remain peeled.

“She’s been watching us,” I say. “She knows about the cameras.”

Pete just nods, turning and slowly making his way back up the hill.

“Where are you going?” I demand to know.

“To get the car, and you’re coming with me,” Pete explains. “We’re not staying in the cabin tonight.”             

A thousand different thoughts are rushing through my head, shifting my focus this way and that. I’m completely overwhelmed, and the only thing that I truly want right now is the safety of Grant’s strong arms.

I pull out my phone and dial Grant’s number. He answers immediately.

“Hey!” the rockstar cries out, excited to hear from me.

“I’m coming to see you tonight,” I inform him.

“You need to rest! It’s fine!” Grant counters. “We already talked about this.”

“Jessica was here, she painted something on the road,” I stammer, the primal fear finally seeping out into my voice.

“What?” Grant blurts, completely thrown. “Is Pete with you?”

The bodyguard can hear this though the line. “Yeah I’m here,” he calls out.

“He’s here, but it’s still not safe,” I continue. “She knows about the cameras. She knows about everything.”
“Okay, okay,” Grant replies, his brain kicking into emergency mode. “We need to get you off the island fast.”

“I just want to be next to you,” I tell him.

“There’s no flights to Seattle left,” the worried rockstar continues, thinking out loud, then suddenly shifts gears. “I know!”

“What is it?” I question.

“Amber is taking the boat to the show!” Grant continues. “You can Pete can ride with her.”

I pause for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around what Grant just said. “Amber? You’re talking about Jessica’s friend, Amber. You’re talking about your ex?” I yell. “Why the hell was she coming to see you in the first place?”

Pete’s eyes go wide when he hears this, but he says nothing.

“Riley, you knew she was still on the island,” Grant continues, trying desperately to calm me down. “She’s getting sober just like me. She has no idea where Jessica is and they were never really friends.”
“I just…” I stammer. “I don’t know how to react to this.”

“I’m sorry,” Grant continues, struggling to clarify. “I know it’s a little odd, but this is kinda perfect when you think about it. Amber called me this morning and asked if she could come to the show, so I told her to take the boat. She knows how to drive it. Do you?”

I hesitate. “No.”

“Does Pete?” Grant continues.

I turn to look at Pete. “Do you know how to drive a boat?”

“Do I look like I know how to drive a boat?” he scoffs, almost offended by the very question. “I grew up in Iowa. Hell no, I don’t know how to drive a boat.”

“Exactly,” Grant continues.

I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly, trying not to completely freak out. “Okay, yeah. Amber can take us.”

“I’ll call her,” the rockstar continues. “Head down to the dock as soon as you can. She’ll meet you guys there.”