Take Me Home (The Heartbreak Brothers 1)
As he answered the phone, Gray gently folded his fingers around Maddie’s aching hand. “We should take you to the hospital,” he told her.
“Nothing’s broken. I can move it. There’ll just be a bruise,” she whispered.
He lifted it up and brushed his lips against her palm. “Better safe than sorry.”
“I’ll call a doctor to come to your house,” Marco said, covering his phone with his hand. “Probably best to stay out of the public eye for now.” He shook his head and went back to his conversation.
It took half an hour to get to Gray’s sprawling home, overlooking the Malibu coast. Even at this time of night, the L.A. traffic was nose to tail. Maddie blinked as the car swung through the open electric gates, her eyes widening as she took in the low-level white stuccoed house. It was modern and sleek and nothing like the houses in Hartson’s Creek. She couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by it.
Liam went in first to check the house. Two minutes later, he came back out of the front door and leaned into the car. “Everything’s clear. You both have a good evening.”
“And try not to hit anybody else tonight, okay? Unless it’s Gray, in which case you have my full approval.” Marco grinned at Maddie.
Gray laughed and shook his head.
They climbed out of the car and onto Gray’s graveled driveway.
The first thing she noticed was the sound of the waves crashing against the sand below. She could smell the salty tang of the ocean, along with the sweet fragrance of the jasmine lining the pathway. Gray slung her bag over his shoulder and slid his arm around her, leading her up the steps.
They walked inside and the driver started the engine again, driving back out through the gates, taking Liam and Marco with him. Maddie was surprised at how quiet it was up here. Once the sound of the car had disappeared there was nothing except the ocean and her heartbeat.
“So this is me.” Gray led her into a huge hallway. The walls were painted white, the floor a sandstone tile. In the center was a round sofa, the seats facing outward, upholstered in a light gray velvet that caught the lights as he turned them on.
“It’s different to home,” Maddie said, trying not to be overwhelmed by the size of everything.
Gray laughed. “You could say that. Let’s head to the kitchen. Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “No. Not really.”
“I’ll grab us a couple bottles of water. Then I’ll show you around the place.”
It felt like every room was more impressive than the last. The furniture was big – custom made, according to Gray – and the whitewashed walls were covered in paintings and posters. But they did nothing to dull the echo of their footsteps as they walked through the doorways of the rooms. There was something else, too. Maddie frowned, trying to place what was missing.
“Where’s all your stuff?” she finally asked him.
“What stuff?”
She bit her lip, thinking of her own bedroom strewn with photographs and mementos, clothes and cosmetics. And of course her music. That was everywhere.
But Gray’s place felt like an elegant hotel room. Beautifully furnished and full of style, and yet somehow soulless.
“Your things. Your clothes. Your shoes. Magazines or books or things you leave on the table because you’re tired and can’t be bothered to clean up.”
He blinked. “I guess the maid puts everything away. I’m not here that often. A few weeks at a time. And when I’m here, I just want to relax, you know? Stare out at the ocean, play my guitar. I don’t have a lot of things.”
“Oh.”
He smiled at her. “It’s a big house for one person. I bought it a few years ago, thinking I’d eventually settle down and find someone to live in here with me.”
“It’s very beautiful,” she told him, ignoring the tightness in her chest. “For the right person, it would make a wonderful home.”
They’d made it to the living room. She followed him to the huge sliding glass doors that overlooked the beach. Even at night she could see how amazing the view was. No wonder he’d fallen in love with it.
And yet… it wasn’t home.
Not to her.
“You don’t like it,” he said, his voice casual.