2045 Clementine Lane: Catherine by Sloane Fletcher

Author:Sloane Fletcher [Fletcher, Sloane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Catherine

July 1, 2008

I don’t know why I chose the beach house. Maybe, because it’s mine. Maybe, it’s because the house is safe, so far away from our everyday. There’s nobody we know nearby, almost no chance of bumping into anybody who could recognize either of us. Maybe, some part of me knew that Aiden would be more comfortable outside of his jurisdiction. And that the girls wouldn’t question me coming here alone.

Whatever my reasoning, I know it’s the right decision the moment I pull my car into the ridiculously narrow garage.

The house is on 9th Place, three short blocks from the golden sands of Manhattan Beach. It’s one of the older homes, built years before the new houses went up around it, stealing the million-dollar two feet of ocean view I probably used to have.

But it still looks great.

The house is the distinguished gentleman on the block compared to the glass monstrosities going up around him. The style is vaguely hacienda. There is a second-floor balcony that leads off my bedroom to hang over the alley. The railings are wrought iron. The balcony roof is adorned with red, clay tile. But the white, stucco façade of the rest of the house and the third-story, shaded rooftop deck add beachy vibes that suit the locale.

Sometimes, the girls and I come here together when we have time off. Other times, I’ll let one of them use it when they just need to get away for a few days. For the most part, this is where I come when I want to be alone, when socializing or the job or my roommates become too much.

So, it is telling that I want to share this with Aiden.

I wouldn’t call the beach house ‘Home’, necessarily. Clementine Lane is my home. But I still like knowing that I have somewhere to go when I don’t want to be surrounded by the choices I’ve made. This house is an escape—one that I fully anticipate using tonight.

There is a lick of anticipation low in my belly at the thought. It settles there, simmering, as I haul groceries and supplies out of my car and in through the back door to the kitchen. As I place everything on the counter, the anticipation starts to take on a sharp edge. It’s early, not even five. I knew I’d need time to settle in, time to adjust and calm myself before he arrived. But now…now two hours seems like an eternity, each minute meant to torture instead of tease.

Pushing my nervous impatience to the back of my mind, I plug my iPod into the speaker on the kitchen counter and set it to shuffle as I begin to unpack. I’m generally not interested in technology, more likely to just let my laptop play YouTube videos at random than source and download music. But Lyla bought us all new iPods for Christmas and, although the rest of us are practically useless, she re-loads new music onto them whenever we ask.

I unpack

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