The card didn’t say much.
Dear Caden,
An almost-Christmas card! It’s just an excuse for a card. I can’t wait to give you your present. I hope you’ll be back to visit soon. Love you! xoxo
Sparky
I stood swiftly from my desk, pacing back and forth in front of the windows. Very few people called me Caden anymore. I’d somehow become a world-renowned rock star. All most people knew about me was my music and my fame name, as I called it. My actual name had fallen into disuse when I catapulted to fame.
Pausing beside my desk, I looked at the date on the card. November 18, 2008. Two months shy of twelve years had passed. That was when my parents finally had their last battle in court, and my mother unceremoniously moved out of state with me. After a few phone calls, I broke up with my first love because I didn’t know what else to do. This card had been mailed to me at my father’s house. I’d never received it. Unless it counted that I had it now. When you were sixteen and divorce court threw your life into disarray, it was hard to think beyond that.
Spinning out of my office, I almost sprinted to my recording studio downstairs in my house. I rifled through the photos in a drawer beside my favorite acoustic guitar until I found what I was looking for.
One week later
I stared at the computer screen. “Fuck you,” I muttered.
The screen had nothing to say in reply. I felt as if it were taunting me with the list of details about Brynn Sparks. All details I already knew with the trail running cold after she graduated from college with a degree in horticulture.
Spinning in my chair, I stood from my desk and left the room. Fame had forced me to give up many things. It wasn’t all fun and games. Although I hadn’t given her up for fame, my most painful loss remained the one and only girl I’d ever loved: Brynn Sparks. Apparently, she’d left no trail for the past few years. Not that I could find, at least. I knew she graduated from high school in the small town where I’d fallen madly in love with her when I was just a boy. She went to college in Alaska and then, apparently, slipped off the map a while later.
I would find her, and I knew just who to ask. I’d thought I could keep this to myself, but it wasn’t worth running into more dead ends. I’d finally slowed down enough to breathe these past few months. Somehow, the band I’d started in college had taken off, and we’d spun into the chaotic life of music fame. We were on hiatus from performing after Wes, our rhythm guitar player, had almost died.
I’d needed the break for more reasons than one. I’d been feeling unmoored lately. Life felt too shallow. Brynn’s card wasn’t the first time I’d thought of her. Oh, no. She was often feathering along the edges of my thoughts. The superficial allure of fame made it nearly impossible to find a genuine connection with anyone. Except for my parents, my five friends in the band, and a select few others who worked with us, I often wondered who really cared to know me just for myself these past few years. My father had passed away recently, and that had dredged up all kinds of feelings, which tangled into the rest of the mess inside.
Seeing that card brought my memories of Brynn rushing to the forefront.
Brynn
“Who?”
“Caden. Don’t even try to pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about,” my friend Holly said.
I had to grip the phone tightly to keep from dropping it. “I wasn’t going to do that,” I mumbled.
“Right. Did you read the news today?”
“No. Why are you asking me about Caden?
“Ever heard of that band Silver?”
“That big folk rock band from Seattle?” I knew precisely what band she was talking about. I’d spent the past few years ignoring the fact that my high school boyfriend, who broke up with me after he moved away, was now a world-famous rock star. I preferred not to listen to people swoon over him breathlessly, so I didn’t see any point in sharing that fact. Seeing as Holly went to high school with me in Alaska, she obviously knew he’d once been my boyfriend.
“That’s the one. I’ll keep it quick. Their lead guitarist is Caden Silver although he goes by Slade for his stage name. I’m guessing you knew this already.” I stubbornly held my silence because what girl wanted to fess up to secretly following the career of her ex who dumped her? Not me, that’s who. “Annnnnd…” Holly paused here. She did enjoy making things dramatic on occasion. “He’s looking for you.”
“What?” I squeaked.
My mind filled with static. I couldn’t even wrap my brain around this. “Yup. He’s looking for Brynn Sparks, his high school sweetheart. That’s a quote straight from the interview.”
By the time I got off the phone, my heart was beating so fast I was surprised it didn’t fly out of my chest. With my fingers shaking, I tapped open my laptop screen and scrolled to a news article.
My heart felt cleaved open when I saw Caden’s face. Tears stung my eyes as I skimmed the article. It was exactly what Holly said. Caden was looking for me.
Caden
Another week later
“Brynn Sparks is here to see you,” the receptionist said through the intercom.
Grayson Holm eyed me for a beat. “Dude, you know this is nuts, right?”
Grayson was always perfectly put together in the almost ten years I’d known him. Today, he wore crisp black slacks and a button-down shirt, practically his uniform. He’d lived next door to us in Seattle after my mother moved away from Alaska with me. When I stumbled into fame, I’d reached out after I heard he retired from the FBI due to an injury. There were few people I trusted since fame had wrapped its tentacles around me, and he was one of them.
He’d been the one to point out that I shouldn’t assume Brynn was in Alaska. She wasn’t. She was right here in Seattle. Until about six months ago, she’d been married. Grayson had organized her details in a matter of minutes after I’d vented to him about not being able to find her in Alaska. I knew she was divorced now and using her maiden name again. His dark eyes scanned me.
I shrugged as I stood from my chair. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“I feel obligated to remind you once again she could be after your money. Just because you have fond memories of her doesn’t mean she’s the sweet girl you fancied yourself in love with in high school.”
“I know, I know. I just want to see her,” I insisted.
I wanted to be cool, calm, and collected. Perhaps I was on the outside, but that didn’t stop my heart from shifting into a thundering beat. “Send her in, please. Actually, no. I’ll bring her back.”
We were at my studio offices. When I say I stumbled into fame, I meant it. I’d started a band with five friends from college. We’d started posting live recordings online. I’d never fully understand why, but our music took off. We had a studio in downtown Seattle now where I could meet anyone necessary for business.
I walked down the hallway to the waiting area. My footfalls were silent on the carpeting. Pausing at the glossy wood door, I stared at the grains before I pushed it open. My pulse pounded, blood rushing through my ears with every beat.