Page 6 of Lost in the Moonlight

Still, I’d barely been able to claim three hours of solid sleep since then, which only hinted at worse to come if I didn’t getmore soon. The upside to my sleeplessness was that the house was nearly unpacked.

In the next few days, I’d hang the paintings on the walls, and the house would be done. As putting up art was usually a two-person job, I’d try and convince Lyrica to come down from D.C. to help me. I’d have to bribe her with something good because my gallery manager found the ambiance of the small town I’d moved to an affront to her city-girl senses.

I pulled a photography book from the box, adding it to a stack on the shelf alongside a smiling gold Buddha I’d snatched from Dad’s gift pile before the State Department had shuffled it away. Everything in the study was bright and cheerful, from the paisley drapes in shades of bright blues to the robin’s egg-colored arm chairs. The desk made from an antique white door and the white-washed bookshelves only added to the sky-like vibe that had me nicknaming the study myWalking on a Cloudroom. It had the same light energy as theSunshine Meadowkitchen. All the rooms of the house were purposefully upbeat except my bedroom, otherwise known in my head as theThe Vampire’s Lair. It was the only place I allowed myself to retreat into the darkness—where the gloom felt welcoming.

When my insomnia woke me, I didn’t have to leave the shadows to keep my rules about using my bed only for sleep and sex to keep my brain programmed correctly. I could simply slip into the sitting area of the suite and watch television or read a book, letting the shadows keep me in their embrace a little longer.

In the quiet between songs, my laptop pinged with a notification, and I moved over to find a dozen messages in the secure chat app. Some of them were from my mother. Most were from Katerina. A single message from Felicity sat like a poisonous snake waiting to strike. Just seeing her name sent achill down my spine while the subject line ofI need helpcaused panic and then anger to rush through. The hate she’d spewed had dwindled to a stop since the beginning of the year, so what the hell could she possibly need now? How could she possibly think reaching out to me, of all people, was the way to get what she needed? I should have blocked her, but I’d learned from Dad’s career that sometimes it was better to know what was coming at you rather than have it hiding and biding its time.

My jaw tightened, and even though I knew I should read it, I simply reached over and deleted the message before opening my sister’s.

KATERINA: Mom’s going ballistic because she hasn’t heard from you in days. Don’t be surprised if she’s already pinged your location and sent a Secret Service detail to do a welfare check. Where’s your phone?

I tapped the pocket on my sweats only to find it empty.

ME: Tell her I lost it in the sea of boxes but that I’m fine.

KATERINA: I’ve been a gofer for long enough in Hollywood. I don’t want to be yours too. Tell her yourself.

ME: Who’s the Grouchypants now?

Even as I teased, concern coasted through me. Katerina was rarely snippy. Determined and full of energy, but not usually waspish.

KATERINA: Please talk to her so she stops harassing me. I have a lot of work to get done before I’m back on set. As the assistant director, a lot is riding on my shoulders and I don’t have time to keep on top of you.

A twinge of remorse filled me for making her my regular go-between.

ME: I’m sending her a note right now. But do me a favor?

KATERINA: Haven’t I done you enough?

ME: Go get laid. I miss my relaxed sister.

KATERINA: Sometimes getting laid is the problem not the answer.

Her answer only spiked my worry.

ME: Hey, all joking aside, what’s wrong?

It took Katerina a beat too long to respond for me to be sure it was the truth.

KATERINA: Nothing is wrong. I just need this film to succeed so I can get the gig I really want. Go back to your boxes. I have work to do.

Maybe it really was just her working too hard, but something felt off. I’d call her later. She could never lie to me when we talked, I’d hear it in her voice.

I turned away from the computer and back to the cardboard stacked in the middle of the office, my thoughts drifting onceagain to the message from Felicity. I was furious she could still get to me. She’d played on my fears in our relationship. Not just about the women in my life who’d experienced tragedy, but about the coldness that had filled me since my friend Leya had been kidnapped and returned unharmed, thanks to the Secret Service.

I’d thought giving Felicity what she’d wanted, handing her some of my secrets and the pieces of me I kept hidden, would shed the numbness that had taken hold. I’d thought it would allow me to feel close to another human again. So I’d made the mistake of telling her not only about my insomnia but about seeing Sienna’s ghost after she’d died. Instead of bringing us closer, it had given her ammunition to use against me. Grenades she’d launched without a second thought to what it would do to me or my family.

I stopped myself just as I reached up to tug an eyebrow.

The media had been relentless last fall. All my failings had been replayed with a new viciousness. The college images of me drinking and partying were smattered with articles about my supposed abandonment of Lyrica that had led to her getting shot and the car crash that had left Sienna dead. Those old stories turned into new rumors of drugs and alcoholism, encouraged by images Felicity had taken without my knowledge while I’d been pacing a darkened room in a sleepless frustration. My parents and their PR teams had struggled to keep the worst of it at bay. We’d all known that if it had lasted further into the new year, it would have haunted Dad throughout the election.

So I’d tried to make it all go away by disappearing. I’d taken off from D.C. last August, winding up in Cherry Bay, and found the town working a bit of magic on me. My shoulders had relaxed, and my breath had come easier. After three nights in a row with six hours of sleep, I’d shown up at a realtor’soffice, looking for a house I could buy immediately. It had taken mere weeks to close on the Colonial but another six months to complete the renovations.

All I wanted now was for the peaceful magic that had surrounded me while I’d stayed here in the fall to return to me. I had to find stable ground. I needed this or I might just drift off for good into that dreamless sleep Katerina was so fond of quoting.

I took my irritation out on the empty boxes, using the pearl-handled switchblade passed down from my great-grandfather to slash through the packing tape and flatten them. I pocketed the knife, filled my arms with cardboard, and headed for the back door through the kitchen.

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