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My heart aches with every step I take off the jet, and as I reach the tarmac, I don’t dare look back as I find my driver from that first day in LA and beeline straight for him. I feel Ezra’s stare on my back as he follows me out of the jet. Even as my driver holds the door open for me, and I scoot into the back of the car, Ezra’s eyes linger. The driver is quick to get into the car and pull away, and the second he does, I risk it all by glancing out the window and gazing at the other half of my heart.
Ezra stands by his car, leaning against the blacked-out SUV, his gaze locked on me, and despite the dark tint of the windows, I know he senses my stare on him. It’s impossible not to.
Everything hurts, and I fall back against the seat, tipping my head right back and closing my eyes. It’s barely even midday, and despite having done nothing but sit in a luxury jet all morning, I’ve never felt so exhausted. I need to sleep for the next twelve years.
“Where are we headed?” my driver asks, meeting my stare through the rearview mirror.
“Ummmm . . .” Shit. It would probably help if I actually knew where Madds lives. “I don’t actually know. I was thinking of staying with a friend, but I kinda haven’t run it past her yet and don’t actually have her address, but—”
“Your brother’s place?”
My brows furrow. “I’m sorry?”
“You had asked me to show you where he lived,” he reminds me. “Are you no longer wanting to see his home?”
“Oh, ummm yeah, of course,” I say. “But I’m not sure who owns it now, and I doubt I’ll be able to go inside.”
“We could always try,” he suggests. “Besides, it shall give us something to pass the time while you wait to see if your friend is happy to host you for the next two weeks.”
I don’t bother to tell him that Madds will be a screaming yes followed by a string of suggestions on how to spend our time, but the thought of getting to see where Axel built his life here is too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
The driver smiles at me through the mirror, and without skipping a beat, he puts his foot on the gas, and we sail through the busy streets of LA. It’s almost a thirty minute trip to the gated community the boys live in, and as the driver puts in the code for the main gates, I find myself sitting up a little straighter.
A strange wave of nervousness crashes through me, and as the gates open and he drives into the gated community, I find myself staring at every property we pass. It’s only a minute before we drive past Ezra’s home, and a flutter settles deep in my stomach just thinking about the life we could have had there together.
As he continues, I find myself straining to see around the coming corners, desperate to see the roads Axel would have traveled every day, the homes he would have passed, the neighbors he might have known. It’s only a minute before the driver begins to slow, and he eventually pulls into a driveway that’s overgrown with shrubbery.
My brows furrow. Clearly whoever lives here now hasn’t been taking good care of the gardens. Axel wasn’t much of a gardener, but I imagine he would have hired someone to care for his property.
My driver lets out a breath as he pulls up next to the keypad for the big gate at the top of Axel’s driveway. “Any ideas?” he asks, referring to the code.
“Ummm . . . Try his birthday. June fifth. 0605.”
The driver leans out the window and puts in the code before shaking his head. “Not it. Any other suggestions?”
“Uhhhh, my birthday, maybe,” I suggest. “1103.”
He tries again and when the little keypad beeps, the driver glances back at me. “We’re in luck.”
My eyes widen. “No way! It worked?”
As if on cue, the gates start to roll back and a wave of happiness rumbles through my chest. Why wouldn’t the new owners change the gate code? Seems a little silly, doesn’t it? I mean, the only people buying homes in this area are those searching for privacy and a great security system. Surely it’s counterproductive not to change the passcodes from day one.
The driver hits the gas again, and we roll through the gate and up the long driveway as I gaze out the window, completely mesmerized. This isn’t exactly the kind of property I envisioned my brother living in, but there’s so much I didn’t know about him in those last few years. I’d forced so much distance between us that I failed to get to know the real him.
He asked me a million times to come out here and visit him, and I hate that I never had the courage to do it.
The further up the driveway we get, I start to wonder if someone is actually tending to the property. While the shrubbery near the front gate is overgrown and a little wild, the gardens closer to the house are neat and tidy where the grass, while a little long, is manicured without a single weed to see.
The house is huge, just as big as Ezra’s, and I can only wonder what life would have looked like for him here. Did he have to yell to have a conversation with someone in a different room? Did he run through the long hallway in his socks, just to see how far he could slide? Did he actually love it here or was it just a house to keep his possessions warm?
“Did you want to try the front door?” the driver asks, indicating the grand stairs that lead to the entrance of the home.
“Oh, I don’t have a key.”
“I could be wrong, my eyesight isn’t quite what it appears to be, but it seems no key is required. It looks to be a keypad entry.”
