Page 13 of When Stars Fall

He came. Finally, he came.

He shoves the helmet on and swings his leg over the bike. Once his feet are on the pegs, he inches forward so his pelvis presses against my ass. My sharp intake of breath at his closeness is involuntary. He goes still behind me as tension rises between us, fills the garage. Wyatt has always been attuned to me physically. He secures his hands on my waist and then leans forward, the length of his chest pressing into my back. I close my eyes. I’m grateful he can’t see my face. The brush of our bodies is intoxicating. Every inch of me has noted every inch of him, and my body is singing, as it once did, just for him.

I start the bike and rev it a few times. The roar is powerful. I can resist him. His brief visit doesn’t have to become anything. With a surge of confidence, I peel out of the garage to the gate. Jerome gives me a salute as he opens the metal doors and then watches us cruise along the narrow path. Foliage conceals the route to my house, and anyone who has managed to get the address has trouble finding it if they aren’t familiar with Bermuda.

When we were dating, Wyatt came with me to visit my family several times. The temptation to wander memory lane is more than I can resist, and I take him past things that have changed in the last ten years. Every time we hit a new landmark he recognizes, he brushes against me to speak into my ear. Delicious shivers of pleasure race up my spine. That’s normal, right? The urge to draw him close, have our skin slide against each other, is a muscle memory. Means nothing.

He reacts to each reveal as I expect. Our favorite old hotel demolished to be replaced by a modern monstrosity—horrible. The restaurant where we got food poisoning turned into a cleaning company—hilarious. There are too many places that remind me of him, but for a long time, there weren’t enough.

Our final stop is also recognizable. I drive into the deserted parking lot of my favorite beach at the tip of the island. It’s the greatest distance from the airport and has no amenities. A parking lot, a rambling walk through brush, and then a wide, expansive beach with pink sand. It’s rare to find other people here, and since it’s low tourist season, even less of a risk today. This place brims with memories.

Wyatt gets off the bike first. I secure my helmet and extend my hand for his without checking his reaction. My sunglasses are inside the seat, and I slide them onto my face. He’s here, in the flesh. Not a hallucination or my deepest wish sealed into a coin and tossed into a fountain.

“I’m glad this place hasn’t changed.” He scans the area and sucks in a deep breath of ocean air. “Man, it feels like yesterday we were here.” His eyes, the color of the shallow sea, seek mine. “So many memories.” His expression is wistful. I hope mine is not.

His implication is clear, but we can’t go back. There is no future for us. The beach is to the right, and I let him trail behind me.

When the path widens, he falls into step beside me. “I’m sorry, Ellie.”

“The attention will die if we don’t do anything to attract the focus to us.” There are a million things he could be sorry for, but I choose the easiest one, and when I let myself gaze at him, longing pours out of me, pools at my feet. I am a terrible actress today.

“I’m sorry about ten years ago too,” he says. “For a long time, I’ve wanted to say that. Those words, to you, in person.”

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. I have to close my eyes, and I’m glad for my sunglasses. His apology makes me weak in the knees. This conversation is too intimate, painful.

“Is this a twelve-step, making-amends thing? ’Cause if it is, we’re fine. Well, we were until last night.”

“Do not throw that shit in my face, Ellie.” He growls in frustration. It’s the first sign I’ve seen of the hot-tempered Wyatt of old. “You’re better than that.”

“Then what is this? Why now?” I flick off my sandals in irritation. They fly across the sand, and a weird satisfaction settles on me to see them land so far away.

“I’ve been clean for two years,” he says. “I had to be sure sobriety would take this time.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to be completely certain.”

“Certain about what?” My heart must be in my eyes. There’s nothing I want more than for this to be true. For him to be clean would be a gift, such a gift to me . . . to other people too.

“That I could be the man you deserved, the one you asked me to be. I wasn’t ready then, but I’m ready now. The man you need—I can be him. Iamthat guy.” Wyatt closes the distance in the warm sand so we’re only a foot or two apart.

I’ve built a good life. A decent existence without him present. What choice did I have when he refused to get help? Letting him back in could set my world, my family’s world, on fire, especially if he can’t maintain his sobriety.

“You going to tell me that being around me hasn’t stirred up any old feelings? ’Cause I gotta say, I don’t believe you.” He searches my face. There’s a grain of truth I don’t want him to find.

“Memories and nostalgia aren’t a solid reason to renew a relationship that wasn’t functional.”

“You’re boiling our problems down to the wrong pieces.” Wyatt throws up his hands.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out. It’s Nikki, and part of me is relieved at the interruption. I hold up a finger and walk away from him.

“Hey, Nikki, what’s up?” I try to keep my voice calm while my insides riot.

His proximity has disoriented me, and I can’t get my feet on firm ground. The muscled expanse of his back shifts beneath his shirt as he skips shells and stones along the still surface of the shallow ocean water. His aura tugs on me, a tie I tried to sever with time and distance. But he’s right. A thread is there, binding us, more than he knows.

“I’m at the hospital. The school called. Haven has a high fever. Probably nothing, but I thought I should tell you,” Nikki says. “I wasn’t sure I should interrupt, but I didn’t want you to get mad at me later.”

A cool sweat breaks out under my arms at Haven’s hospitalization. “You were right to call. I have to drop Wyatt off somewhere and then I’ll be there.”

We say a hasty goodbye, and I tuck my phone into my pocket. “That was Nikki. She’s at the hospital. I have to go.”

“Is she okay?”

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