“Okay. Okay. I hear you. But I need a date. When are you coming back?”
I didn’t know. The notion of going back to the city, to the studio, events, parties…and making music. New, exciting, amazing music, better than what I’d done so far, and after that, better still… I’d left my favorite guitar at the chalet, hoping I’d miss it. I didn’t. I definitely didn’t miss the daily reminder about what I should be doing but couldn’t.
When I didn’t say anything, Ulrich cleared his throat. “Laurel? Can you give me a date?”
“Like I said, I need at least one month.”
“Very well. I’ll call you in three weeks. But I don’t know how long I can hold the fort here. Already, we have rumors circulating about rehab and whatnot.”
Disgust made my stomach roll. Fucking vultures. “I don’t care,” I spat.
“You should care about your public image.”
“More than my sanity and health?”
“Your fans understand taking a break, but you can’t just disappear altogether. You have to give people something.”
Did I have to? What would happen if I just disappeared for real? The forest seemed to whisper around me. I could almost distinguish the words:Tell him to fuck off. Let them all fuck off.
“Call in three weeks, Ulrich.”
“Wait! We’re making a post on your official account about your well-deserved vacation after the tour. A selfie wouldmake it a tad more believable. Please, Laurel.” Ulrich sounded desperate.
I squeezed my eyes and inhaled through my nostrils.Don’t swear at him. Hold it. One, two, three, four, five. Exhale.“I’ll send you one. Happy?”
“Thanks. Enjoy your hike.”
He was mad at me, but that wasn’t my problem. “Bye, Ulrich.”
I ended the call and pointed the camera at me. I snapped a pic of myself with the hood over my hat, the fall forest behind me, sunbeams filtering through the canopy like searchlights. I looked a little tired, but my cheeks were pink and my eyes bright. I made sure there was nothing in the picture that would suggest a specific location, just a forest that could be anywhere in this part of the world. I sent it to Ulrich and muted my phone.
Three fucking weeks. Was that too much to ask? I’d been working my ass off nonstop for ten years.
I marched up the trail, savoring the burn in my legs. I imagined my anger as an icy crust weighing my body down, and if I moved fast enough, it would crack and start to fall off me, shattering against the rocks.
It was easy to forget about everything up here. In the mountains, mundane shit like careers, managers, record companies, and fandoms held no power. The trees didn’t have eyes, but even the people in Beauville, including those who stared and whispered, left me alone. I had no idea how much of that was Monty’s work, but I was immensely grateful to him anyway. I’d forgotten how it felt—the freedom of being unknown.
Yeah, I wasn’t sure a month would be enough for me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back, ever. Which sucked, because I’d have to.
The path narrowed and grew steeper. Bare pine roots crisscrossed the ground, resembling stairs, and I started sweating under my jacket. This hike was a proper workout.
When the canopy opened, I paused to look at the view. The valley spread out underneath, and a golden sheen blanketed the forest.
I took a picture but didn’t send it to anyone. That was just for me so I could look at it later and remember.
God, I loved going out and not having to meet a single soul. If only I didn’t feel pathetically lonely during my sleepless nights, I’d move out here for good, hide in my chalet, and spend the rest of my life just walking these paths with no worries on my mind.
But I would get lonely, I knew, and bored.
Would I miss the constant attention? My success and fame? Right now, those things felt like a burden, but they didn’t used to.
I pulled out my water bottle and took a few deep gulps. Just because I didn’t feel thirsty in the cold didn’t mean I couldn’t get dehydrated. I screwed the top back on and stuffed the bottle into my backpack.
I was a little hungry, so I popped a few cheese cubes into my mouth. I’d eat my sandwich at the viewpoint, which should be close.
The trail turned left and right, zigzagging up the slope. After the third turn, I stopped in my tracks.
Higher up, maybe twenty feet in front of me, stood a bear. He looked a little like Jordy, but he was smaller. He lifted his head, staring at me with dark, clever eyes, and his nose twitched as he smelled the air.
