Page 40 of Fallen Stars

Late in the night, I held his face in my hands and devoured his lips once more. Every cell in my body screamed to stay at his place. Pleaded with me to strip him bare and get to know him in a new way. Whispered in my ear to lie with him and fall asleep with our limbs tangled until the sun came up.

But Oliver needed to be up early for the festival, and I didn’t want to fuck up this incredible opportunity for him or the band. So, I went home. Alone.

Before my head hit the pillow, I sifted through and cleared out notifications on my phone. It’s then that I noticed a missed text from Abigail, the timestamp during dinner at the Moss house.

Abi

We should ride together tomorrow. For appearances.

Well after one in the morning, my reply was simple.

no

When I woke a couple hours ago and checked my phone, she hadn’t responded. Not that I care either way. It’s best to keep the lines drawn and visible. If that upsets her, it’s not my problem.

Inhaling a deep breath, I head for the gates, enter the pandemonium, drop a couple hundred dollars in the charity donation box, and linger in the periphery of the crowd. This isn’tthe first town event I’ve attended—as a member of a founding family, we are more or less obligated to appear—but I am one of the few Seven that shies away from the crowd.

“There you are.” Voice saccharine sweet, Abigail approaches with her parents, brother, and a young boy. She invades my personal space and hooks her arm around mine. Glowing smile on her face, she leans into my side. “Have you met my nephew, Tucker?”

I force down the urge to yank my arm free and shove her away. This whole situation is my fault, but I never gave her consent to touch me without advanced warning. Something we will discuss today.

Lips pursed, I shake my head. “No, I haven’t.”

Ray Calhoun III—also known by many as Tré—extends a hand my way. “Been a while.”

I ease out of Abigail’s hold and take his hand. His grip is firm, a hint calloused, but otherwise benevolent. “Nice to see you again.”

Hand on the boy’s back, Ray nudges him forward. “This is my son, Tucker. Tucker, this is Levi West, Aunt Abi’s boyfriend.”

I mentally cringe and pray it doesn’t show on my face.

“He does all kinds of cool stuff with computers.”

A spitting image of his father, Tucker doesn’t give me an ounce of attention. “Can we play games now?” Annoyance laces his tone and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

I’m over it too, kid.

Ray III shrugs and chuckles. “Priorities.” And then he steers Tucker away from the group and heads for the row of games.

Abigail shifts closer. I counter her move, add a few more inches of space between us, and cross my arms firmly over my chest. Her smile falters for a beat, but returns fast enough for others not to notice.

“Levi,” Angel Calhoun says, my name sunny and refined on her tongue. “Abigail says you’ve been working a tremendous number of hours recently.” She sips the mimosa in her hand. “Is it on a project with your father?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Undoubtedly, my father continues to give the impression I will follow in his footsteps and assume a role in town politics. As though what I do professionally is unsavory.

“No, ma’am. Politics aren’t my thing.” Nor is my father. “I’m a partner at Tymber Woulf Security and Investigative Services. We recently took on a large case and it’s kept us quite busy.”

“Busy enough to lessen your time with Abigail.” It’s more a statement than a question and she says it with practiced finesse. Though her tone doesn’t come across as irritated, I read between the lines effortlessly. Angel Calhoun wants the best for her daughter.

If only she knew I am not what’s best for her. Unless she wants a friend.

“I barely have time for myself.”

As the words leave my mouth, my parents, brother, and his girlfriend enter my periphery. My mood instantly plummets.

Less than an hour into the day and I want to rip my hair out. The facade, the elitist mentality, the mountain of bullshit… I am more than over it.

Artificial smile on his face, my father pats my back. “Stubborn, this one. But we’ll get him in town hall sooner or later.”

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