Page 16 of Fallen Stars

Another apology sits on the tip of my tongue, this one different than the one left unsaid earlier.

“Ollie, I?—”

Wood grates tile as he abruptly shoves back on the stool. “Just remembered I have band practice,” he says, eyes downcast as he shuffles toward the living room.

Lies.

Unless Hailey or Trip scheduled an impromptu practice, they never meet on Sundays. The weekday practice days may vary, but Sunday is always certain. It’s the one day they all get a break. On Sundays, Oliver spends most of the day with his parents.

But I won’t call him out. He’s upset. I would be too, were I in his shoes.

“Sorry I distracted you from the time.” Still on my stool, I swivel in his direction.

On his gaming chair, he laces up his Converse. Lost in the way his nimble fingers tie the laces, I fail to notice his gaze shift. I don’t register the fact that he’s watching me stare at him. Again.

Still for too long, I glance up and read everything his eyes and expression are saying that his words will not.

Pain. Oliver is in pain. Inexplicable, excruciating pain. All because I fear the repercussions of speaking my truth.

One foot in front of the other, he slowly crosses the room and stands a foot away.

Every breath, every heartbeat, every nerve ending in my body reacts to his proximity. My mind screams for me to be brave. It points a proverbial finger at the man in front of me and implores me to reach out and haul him closer. Breathe in his leather and musk scent mixed with something distinctly him. Nuzzle the crook of his neck and confess my truth in soft whispers on his skin.

Then my father’s dreadful voice enters my mind and steals every ounce of joy. Not an occasion passes that I don’t hear my father mutter something homophobic when he’s aware Oliver is here. The way he says it so casually—guests present or not—tells everyone in the room the type of person he is.

My father doesn’t have the standing to outright threaten my future as a West. Though he takes his role in the family quite seriously, only a biological West is capable of making certain changes in our family. According to the prenuptial agreement he signed before he and Mom exchanged vows, he has no control over West family financials.

Since I won’t conform to his rules or way of life, his speaking cruelly about someone I care for is his form of punishment.Forcing me to have dinner dates with the daughters of wealthy families in Stone Bay is another form of punishment.

But it hurts more than me, and I despise my father more for his insensitivity.

“Don’t worry about it.” Oliver shrugs. His eyes drop to my lips for one heartbeat. “No one will be mad if I’m late.”

Because there is no band practice.

I slip off my stool and he inches back, but not by much. The heat of him blankets my chest and steals my breath. My pulse whooshes in my ears as I swallow, his gaze dropping to my throat.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

Sorry for my asshole father.

Sorry my family continues to parade me around available women in the hopes I’ll choose one to marry.

Sorry I am too much of a coward to tell you how much you mean to me.

Sorry I continue to torture us both, but mostly you.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

With a nod, he licks his lips and takes a step back. “Nothing to apologize for.” He pivots on his heel and moves toward the door. “Text me later?”

My chest spasms as the distance grows between us.

“Yeah,” I choke out.

No sooner than the word leaves my lips, Oliver steps out the door. And like every other time we go separate ways, the fissure in my heart deepens.

Dinner dishes are cleared from the table as coffee and dessert are set in front of us, neither of which I plan to consume.

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