Page 107 of Fallen Stars

The music rattles the storefronts as the crowd grows. Hot cider, cocoa or various local brews are sipped. Burgers, barbecue, pizza, a variety of Asian street foods, and countless sweet treats are devoured. People sing and dance and enjoy the start of fall with a smile on their faces.

I cross to the other side of the street and zigzag between bodies toward the music.

The song ends and I freeze. Cheers erupt and drown out whatever’s being said to the crowd. Then, generic music floats through the air.

No.

I shove through the crowd. A few people throw curses in my direction, but I ignore them. I keep moving forward.

Minutes feel like hours. The drum doesn’t thunder again.

My breaths come in jagged bursts. The muscles of my legs are ready to give out. Invisible fingers wrap around my heart and curl into a fist, squeezing, shredding, pulverizing.

I smack into a hard chest and bounce back.

“Sorry.” I shake my head and step to the side.

“Levi?”

I freeze at the sound of my name and lift my gaze. When my eyes lock onto my favorite shade of green, the ground wobbles beneath my feet.

Oliver.

THIRTY

OLIVER

For three staggering,disbelieving heartbeats, I thought I was seeing things. Wouldn’t be the first time since July.

Then I said his name and he stopped.

Levi.

He’s here.

Why is he here? Who brought him?

I quickly scan the crowd and don’t spot any familiar faces. My attention is back on him in a blink.

Fuck, I’ve missed him. So goddamn much. For months, I have been hollow. A shell. A soul without purpose or heart or animation.

Without Levi, I am not alive. Just merely existing.

Indecision mars his brow as his blue eyes roam my face. The crowd, the town, the world fades into white noise. Under his inquisitive stare, thrill courses through my veins for the first time in months. As he takes in every curve, dip and angle of my profile, I do the same of his.

Shorter than he typically wears it and a bit unruly—as if he’s run his fingers through it repeatedly—Levi’s hair skims the middle of his forehead. The natural shine and temptation in his blue irises are absent, a glum, matte-blue in its place.Bruisy crescents paint the skin beneath his eyes. A faint shadow darkens his sunken cheeks and bony jaw. Although he’s gained weight in the past two weeks, he appears frail and unsteady.

God, I want to touch him.

A simple brush of my finger against his. Maybe a lift of my hand to gently caress his cheek.

I want to wrap my arms around him, pin him to my chest, and reacquaint myself with the way his body molds against mine. I want to breathe in his clean, cedar scent, embed it in my senses and memory, and never forget it. I want to press my lips to his and kiss him with profound tenderness.

More than anything, I want to tell him how much I love him. How much I miss him. How it feels like I can’t fucking breathe without him.

Instead, I stand statue-still with my lips sealed.

Levi must be in control of his life going forward. He may need help with certain aspects while he heals, but ultimately, he should be at the helm of his future.

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