Page 110 of Fallen Stars

A sad smile mars his expression as his blues connect with my greens. “I don’t reallywantto.” He rolls his lips between his teeth. “But Ineedto.” He audibly inhales. “Does that make sense?”

I hug his hands with mine and methodically nod.

And until the food arrives, Levi shares every dark and horrid detail of his abduction. The entire hour and eighteen minutes, I listen to every word. I give him every ounce of my attention. I keep my emotions at bay and don’t let my feelings overshadow his.

Traumatic as it is for him to say and relive, agonizing as it is for me to hear and not yank him into my arms and drown him in love, we both live through his retelling of the past two and a half months.

When I deposit the pizza, soda, and two glasses with ice on the coffee table, our first slices get eaten slowly in silence. Midway through the second, he speaks up again.

“I want the impossible.”

Covering my full mouth, I ask, “What do you mean?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Normal. All I want is my version of normal.”

I wipe my mouth and sit straighter. “May seem impossible right now.” My hand twitches at my side, eager to touch him, comfort him, give him strength. Rather than take his hand, I press my leg to his and give him some of my weight. Give him a modicum of love and courage through the innocent contact. “But we’ll find normal again.” I swallow. “Together.”

He leans back and his arm presses against mine. Then he drops his head on my shoulder and melts into my side.

My nose and the backs of my eyes sting. A charm of hummingbirds takes flight in my chest. One shaky breath followed by another; I rest my head on his and close my eyes.

Damn, I fucking love him.

“How do you saymy foreverin Bosnian?”

I blink away my tears and scrunch my brows together. “Uh… the translation is a bit different. More likemine forever. Moj zauvjek.”

He inches back, sits up straight, and holds me captive with glassy blue eyes. “Help me find normal again, moj zauvjek.”

Without thinking, I cup his cheek. Stroke his prominent cheekbone ever so gently with my thumb and nod. “Until my last breath, moje srce.”

THIRTY-ONE

LEVI

My knee bouncesas I sit on the edge of Oliver’s bed—ourbed—and give myself a mental pep talk. So far, all it is doing is making me more antsy. No matter what I think or say or do, I can’t seem to sit still this morning.

And it pisses me off.

I rest my hands on the tops of my thighs and press down. “Just stop,” I mutter under my breath. Pinching my eyes closed, I will this ceaseless burst of energy into extinction.

As if my mind wants to torture me further, my knee bounces faster.

Just. Fucking. Stop.

I ease my eyes open, clamp my thighs just above the knees, and exhale my frustration.

Across the room, with the door open, Oliver drags a razor down the thick layer of shaving cream along his jaw. Every other stroke, he leans closer to the mirror and angles his chin down or up or off to the side. He appears so at ease—with himself, with me, with life.

I’d kill for a fraction of his tranquility.

Eyes fixed on his hands, his fingers, the way he shifts his lips as he shaves around them, a sense of calm soothes some of my fidgety nerves. Enough to make my foot settle and knee relax.

Oliver.He has always been a balm for my soul.

Needing further distraction from my restless thoughts, I rake my eyes down his body.

Towel hanging low on his hips, water drips from his curly hair and dots his chiseled chest. Corded muscles in his arms flex as he swipes the razor over his skin then waves it under running water. Setting the razor down, he wets a washcloth and rubs off any residual shaving cream.

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