Page 15 of Bae

If I wanted a bare-ass wall with nothing around it, I would have bought in an overpriced subdivision. Trees were added privacy. Besides, Rimmel liked them. She especially liked when they changed colors and dropped those colors all over the property.

The gate itself was thick, solid wood, stained a dark brown with black wrought-iron accents at the top. We made it like that on purpose. Again, it was more expense, but we wanted something the stalkerazzi couldn’t stick their lenses through to take pics.

It was a double gate; on each side was a thick stone column, and on top were two large lanterns. Since it was late morning now, they weren’t illuminated.

B pressed a button on the remote inside his car, and the gates swung open, slowly revealing the interior of the property. Once there was enough space, he drove in and hit the button again. The truck sat idle while we waited for the gates to close behind us.

The compound sat back away from the gate, deeper on the property, thus giving us even more privacy. The road that led to the houses was freshly paved with dark tar, and it wound gracefully through the thick, green grass and mature trees.

As we drove, leaves that littered the pavement flew up and twisted in the breeze, scattering out around and fluttering behind in our wake. When we finally crested the highest hill on the drive, the house came into full view.

Being a guy who’d always known money, nice shit wasn’t something new to me.

But this place was on a different level.

Since it wasn’t just my and Rim’s house, but the entire family’s, a lot went into it. We all pitched in money, too. With me, B, and Drew having high-income contracts for sports, add in Ivy’s high-profile job withPeopleand the revenue from her YouTube channel (Seriously, people made a lot of moneymaking videos… Who fucking knew?), and Trent’s job with the NRR, cash wasn’t exactly an issue.

The front exterior of the home was stone, just like the wall. It was a mix of earthy tones like light and dark browns with some gray and deep blue. Actually, it wasn’t a home.

It was a mansion.

Rimmel would shit a brick if I ever called it that around her. My girl didn’t want extravagance. That’s probably what made our place even better. It wasn’t ostentatious or overstated. It was just huge. But so very homey and comfortable.

The stone home was European inspired; that’s what the builder said. The girls basically pointed to a picture and said that’s what they liked. I didn’t really know what made it European. It looked like a big stone house to me. It was a sprawling two-story with lots of white-framed windows and chimneys. The roofline was multi-pitched and seemed to go on forever.

The front door was a huge, rounded-top, double wood thing with monstrous iron handles. The eave over it was also rounded and rose high, which made room for a large chandelier to hang and illuminate overhead.

On the right side of the house was a six-car garage. It was attached to the structure by a breezeway with the same stone framing but with glass walls. It allowed the family to move from the garage into the house free of the elements while still enjoying the view.

The house itself had eight bedrooms and ten bathrooms. The place also featured a huge home gym (obviously) with a sauna, a home theatre, and a game room with two bowling lanes.

On our side of the house, Rimmel had a library and home office where she often worked on stuff for the shelter. I found her there a lot in front of the huge picture window, sitting in a chair that would fit likely ten of her, with apple cider, a blanket, and a book. The fireplace operated on gas and lit with a single flip of the switch, so it was always on.

She always looked so tiny yet so cuddly, lost in the cushions, with her black-framed glasses perched on her nose and her wild, dark hair in a mess from hunkering down in the chair.

Note: I’d never admit to calling her cuddly. That shit would get my man card revoked.

Rimmel’s library had accents of yellow, though.

Yellow was her favorite color. It reminded her of her mother.

It reminded me of her.

There was a cold breeze in the air this morning, sort of like the day hadn’t warmed up with the sun, and the small evergreens planted between each garage door and dotting the landscaping in front of the house all moved a little with the way it blew.

The garage door opened as we approached, and Braeden drove right inside. I didn’t spare a second, instead vaulting out of the cab, leaving my bags in the back.

I did throw a glance at my shiny green Cat on the way past. Since I was in such a hurry, I almost missed the fact Rim’s Range Rover wasn’t in its normal spot.

Almost.

What the fuck? Worry pierced through the relief I felt to be home, and I began to question if maybe I should have called when the plane landed. I’d thought to surprise her when I walked in… but now it seemed I was the one getting the surprise.

I didn’t like that shit.

What if something was wrong? What if something happened?

Where the fuck was she?

---