Page 2 of Code Word (The Atrous #3)

TWO

Staying at the cabins in winter always hit different. In summer, it was all about the beer and cookouts, late sunsets, and guitar jam sessions long after dark.

In winter, it was about campfires and hoodies and UGG boots.

I don’t know why, but I always loved the cooler weather, especially at the cabins. The vibe was chill, relaxing. It was peaceful and almost reflective.

Luke and I had been here by ourselves countless times in the last few years.

This time felt a little different, though.

He needed time away, and frankly, so did I. Maybe for different reasons, I wasn’t sure. Bec and I needed some time apart; I knew that much. Maybe we’d just spent too much time together lately.

Luke’s reasons were unclear to me, and I was bringing him here to give him some much-needed space. And with the hope he’d tell me what was up.

He’d slept a few hours yesterday, lying on me, and when he’d woken up, he was confused and embarrassed. He’d drooled on my shirt, and I’d laughed about it. His face all rumpled and flushed, and I’d teased him about that too.

He’d told me to fuck off.

I’d made him a sandwich and told him that Vana had said she was done.

I’d told him what she’d said, about being the third wheel, and he just chewed and swallowed and nodded.

He seemed relieved.

I’d told him Bec was at his folks’ place for the night, and he’d looked at me then, his blue eyes sparking with something strange that I couldn’t quite place.

Then I’d asked him if he was okay.

He’d put his half-eaten sandwich down like it was too hard to swallow. “Yeah, sure.”

The way he’d lied to me so easily stung, but I knew he’d tell me when he was ready.

“I’m gonna shower,” he’d mumbled, talking to the floor instead of me. “And go back to bed. Sorry, I’m just...”

I’d watched him walk away, looking smaller than I’d ever seen him.

He was definitely not okay.

So I’d spent my night doing laundry and adding to the basket of groceries Bec had left on the counter.

Seven o’clock in the morning, I’d opened Luke’s bedroom door.

It was too dark, too messy—so unlike him.

There were clothes all over the floor, his guitar and his keyboard, his laptop and papers; everything, everywhere.

Instead of making a big deal out of that, instead of picking anything up, I flicked on the lights and pulled back his covers.

He’d worn his sweatpants and hoodie to bed—I probably should have been grateful he wasn’t naked—and told him to get up.

He’d squinted and cracked one eye open at me. “The fuck...? ”

I’d laughed. “Get your ass in the Range Rover, gorgeous. We’re going away, just you and me.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t ask questions. Maybe he’d guessed where we were going.

Maybe he didn’t care.

He sat in the passenger seat, all kinda curled up but facing me, snoozing as I drove. He had his hood pulled up, his hands inside his sleeves again, like he couldn’t get warm. I cranked up the heat for him, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Like the coldness was inside him.

I had to wake him when we got there. I gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” I said. “We’re here.”

He sat up, stretched, and looked out the window, smiling when he saw where we were. That smile, the hint of perfect teeth, the way his eyes creased...

I hadn’t seen it in far too long.

“I’ll grab our stuff,” I said.

He got out and stretched his arms high, his hoodie riding up just far enough for me to see his happy trail and the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear.

It made me snort.

“Here,” I said, handing him his duffle bag. “I threw in a bunch of shit. It was in the dryer, so I assumed you’d worn it recently. If you need anything else, just come grab mine.”

His cheeks were pink; from embarrassment or the cold, I wasn’t sure. “Thanks.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the basket of food. “I’ll put this in mine,” I said, nodding to my cabin. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you will be helping me cook, but less mess this way.”

Luke smirked but nodded slowly, looking around at the other cabins. He didn’t say anything, didn’t mention the other guys, if they were coming or not. Then with a sigh, he headed for his cabin.

They were small; enough room for one bedroom, a small bathroom, a kitchenette, and a couch. There was a small porch out front of each. They were formed in a circle, along with the barn, with a firepit and a built-in grill in the middle.

It was perfection.

I fucking loved it here. We all did.

When Maddox had first suggested building us each a cabin, I’d thought he’d lost his mind.

But Jeremy had seen what he’d meant when they’d stayed at Roscoe’s family ranch in Vermont.

Then we’d all gone over for a vacation the next winter.

We’d skied and snowboarded during the day and sat around our cabins at night, and by the time we’d gotten back to LA, we were all on board with the idea.

He’d found the perfect property, had plans drawn up and submitted, and just a few months later, we were making each little cabin our own.

The cabins, as we called the property, were only a few hours’ drive from home, but it was so remote, so removed from the rest of the world, it may as well have been in a different world.

No one could find us here. We switched off our phones and disconnected from everything.

Even now, with the craziness of Atrous behind us, we still switched everything off.

No, we didn’t have the masses watching our every move anymore. We didn’t have the paparazzi hounding us, stalking us. They were still around but not like they used to be.

But still, the pressure of modern life sucked.

It wasn’t as if we had nine-to-fives. We weren’t in the rat race, so to speak. Not anymore. And we did have the privilege of money, so we could distance ourselves for privacy and security.

We were doing our own thing these days.

Maddox was still in the spotlight more than we were, and quite frankly, he could have it.

He still did interviews, photoshoots. He was writing music and producing shit, but it was at his pace now. When he wanted to.

Jeremy was helping Madz most days. They were a great production duo; that was undeniable.

Wes was busy being the best dad ever, and to be even more frank, he could have that too.

That left Luke and me. We were just cruising along, and maybe that was part of Luke’s problem. Maybe he was struggling with where things were at.

I knew some days I felt like that. As if I needed to set my sights on new goals, but I didn’t know on what or where. I also wasn’t desperate to find out.

I wasn’t sure . . .

I wasn’t sure about a lot of things.

All five of us hadn’t been to the cabins together in a while, as our new lives took over. When it was new, we were here as often as we could be, but then real life intervened, and it was hard for us all to coordinate now that we didn’t have Atrous...

“Hey,” Luke said, startling me.

I spun around. “Shit.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly light-footed up the steps.”

“Yeah, no, I was just...” I tossed my bag into the bedroom, onto the bed. Then I began pulling food out of the basket. “I didn’t even unpack this from yesterday,” I said. “Bec left it on the counter.”

I didn’t miss the way his eyes flinched. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “How... how is she? Did you say she went to Mom and Dad’s?”

I nodded as I unpacked, trying not to let on how awkward it had been between us yesterday. “Yeah. She was going there for dinner or something. You were crashed out. She didn’t want to wake you or anything.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, yeah. I didn’t sleep much...” He scrubbed his hand over his face, over his three-day growth, then ran it through his too-long hair. “Still kinda tired.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” I said, pulling out the bananas and the bread. “Thought a week away sounded pretty good.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, looking out the open door. “You just got back and all...” He met my eyes briefly before looking away again, his brow furrowed. “How was that? Have a good time?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean . . . you know.”

He half smiled. “Not your scene.”

“Maddox called them the eat-pray-love group.”

That made him chuckle. “Accurate.”

I smiled at him, at hearing his laughter. “Becca’s friends are...” I shrugged. “Nice enough, I guess. They love staying at the Malibu house, but I just... I don’t know if I need to be there with them next time.”

His lips twisted and his eyebrow quirked upward. “Next time?”

I shook my head. “No, there won’t be a next time.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and I filled the water tank of the coffee machine. “I was actually thinking I should sell it,” I said.

“The beach house? Why?”

I sighed and shrugged, not entirely sure why I even said that out loud. “Dunno. It’s not like we use it.”

“You could...” he hedged, “start spending more time there. If you wanted to.” His brows furrowed again and he chewed on his bottom lip. “I mean, you don’t have to live with me. I’m a big boy; I can look after myself.”

From the slight look of panic on his face, I doubted that was entirely accurate, but in true fashion of how we were with each other, the foundation of our friendship, I decided to make a joke of it.

“What makes you think I live with you for your benefit?” I snorted. “Uh, I’ll freeload off you for as long as you let me, thank you very much.”

He half smiled and was quiet again as he looked out through the front door at the other cabins.

“So,” he said, “are the guys coming up too? You said you spoke to Maddox?”

“He wasn’t sure he could swing it. Maybe in a couple of days, though. He was gonna check with Jer. They might come up.”

He nodded again. “Cool.”

“So you’re stuck with just me for three days, at least.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, the travesty.”

“Fuck off,” I joked. “Come on, let’s go check the firewood sitch.”

Back in the beginning, there’d been talk of hiring someone to maintain the place, to stack firewood, to check the water, that kind of shit. But we decided against it because that’s what we liked about it.

If we wanted people to do everything for us, we’d stay in Hollywood.

Coming up to the cabins, where we had to cart wood and clean fireplaces, was part of the fun for us.

It was good to be outdoors doing outdoorsy shit. Hauling a wheelbarrow full of chopped wood, catching some sunshine and fresh air was good for the soul.

And a few hours later, by the time we got all the wood brought down and the barn dusted and set up, fires made and dinner in the slow cooker, I was feeling pretty good.

Luke had smiled and laughed a few times, and the physical work and sunshine seemed to help him too.

I knew we’d have to talk at some point, but it was a good start.

We ate vegetable soup, which was mediocre at best, but it was perfect as the temperature dropped outside. Luke devoured his, and afterwards, we sat in my little cabin by the fire.

He was quiet. Well, quieter than he normally was. But he seemed to revel in the peace, and I was happy to let him just be.

It was so easy with him. We’d always had the ability to just chill around each other. No need for mindless small talk or pretending to smile, like I’d just spent a week doing with Bec’s friends.

It was just so fucking nice.

“Man, I gotta say,” I said, stretching my legs out, “it’s nice, just us two. No fake bullshit. No pretenses.”

“You talking about the love-pray-eat crowd?”

I snorted. “Yeah. It was a long week.”

“Yeah, it was,” he murmured.

I looked at him then, trying to read the truth in his tired eyes, but after a beat, he made a face I couldn’t read—like he wanted to talk to me, like he wanted to say what was on his mind—but instead, he shot up off the couch.

“I should go,” he said, swallowing thickly, pulling his hands back into the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Thanks for dinner. It was great. I’ll cook tomorrow, though it’ll suck, I’m sure.

I should go check on my fire. I’ll see you in the morning. ”

I was a little stunned at the urgency in his voice. Or was it panic? I wasn’t sure.

He got to the door and stopped before I could think of what to say. “Thank you. For bringing me here. For coming with me.” And that look was back, and fucking hell. Was it pain?

“Luke,” I tried, but he was out the door and gone.

Christ.

I had to remind myself we had a week up here. We had enough time for him to rest, clear his mind, and I knew he’d talk when he was ready .

I’d wait for him, at his own pace, whenever he was ready.

I’d wait for as long as it took.