Page 14 of When Stars Fall

“She doesn’t think it’s anything, but I have to go.”

Who’s the liar now?

“I’ll come with you.” He collects my discarded sandals.

After I take my shoes from him, I slip them on. I wish I could stay, try to sort out my complicated, overblown feelings, but the hospital is more important. “You can’t. People will recognize you. We do not need to feed the gossip mills. I don’t want paparazzi on my doorstep. It’s why I live here. Privacy. Freedom. Neither of those exist in your world.”

He sucks in a breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Ellie.” He uses the voice that makes me melt in a puddle at his feet. This time, it’s not intentional. The result is the same.

A desire to steady myself rises, but my only support is Wyatt. Leaning on him, emotionally or physically, is a terrible idea. At a deserted beach, we could slip into chartered, but rough, waters. Too easy to drown in him again. Haven’s fever could be nothing, but I have to go.

“I’m sorry.” I head toward the path, ignoring the clench in my gut trying to convince me to stay.

He hesitates for a beat and then follows. Younger Wyatt wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. We’d be fighting. He’d be forcing me to tell him the truth. I’m not sure how I feel about the change.

As we walk through the brush, he’s behind me. “You remember the MTV awards when we won best kiss?” he asks.

“Hard to forget.”

If I closed my eyes, I could relive it. In true Wyatt fashion, he staged an elaborate scene to garner maximum attention. Our best kiss was a shower scene, and he had them bring a portable one onto the stage. When we stripped down to skimpy bathing suits, the crowd went wild. The minute we stepped into the shower, though, the whole stage and everyone in the Hollywood Palladium disappeared. The press of his firm body against mine, the warm water rushing down our bodies, and the innate chemistry we had right from the start made everything else fade away. We loved each other so hard, so well, until we didn’t. Seeing the expressions on our faces after we kissed onstage sent cracks through my heart, and each new view of the YouTube video widened them into crevices. We were in awe, like we’d stolen the moon out of the night sky and slotted a piece of it into each other. Shiny. Lit up. Deliriously happy.

“Why.” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Why did you bring that up?”

“Had it on repeat when you first left me.” He chuckles, but the sound is sad. “YouTube is horrible and wonderful sometimes. Nothing like torturing yourself with something you no longer have.”

My steps falter. Wyatt sitting alone in our massive house reliving our relationship replaces my warmth with a colossal ache. A grief I remember. If I dig deep enough, my heartache burns—covered over, but never forgotten. Never quite healed.

When we arrive at the bike, I pop the seat and hand him a helmet. Before I put on mine, I take him in, memorizing, savoring. This might be the last time we’re together. Tears prick at the back of my vision. He can’t see them or he’ll realize how conflicted I am. Here. Gone. I want him in both places and neither.

“Ellie.” He holds the helmet between his hands, and he’s focused on the plastic surface. “Tomorrow or any day for the rest of this week? It’ll depend on your sister’s health, of course . . .”

I shove my helmet on my head, hardening my resolve. He wasn’t good for me ten years ago, and I’d be a fool to let him back in, to risk what I’ve built. The sight of his clear, beautiful eyes almost stops me short. Sober, charming Wyatt is so hard to resist.

I swing onto the bike. “I can’t.”

He opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and then gives a curt nod. He climbs on behind me, and this time he judges the distance with precision. His pelvis connects with my butt. I fight the urge to lean into the contact, savor him. I rev the engine harder than necessary, then peel out of the parking lot to deliver Wyatt to his hotel.

Getting to Haven is all that matters. Wyatt can’t be allowed anywhere near her.

Chapter Seven

Ellie

Thirteen Years Ago

I’m flying, and I want to stretch out my arms in the limo to drift on the current of the wind. Whatever Isaac gave me is magic. I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been.

He pats my leg and grins. “Bet your late call time tomorrow seems fantastic about now.”

I’m drifting, floating, drifting. My hands. My fingers are so long. Who painted my nails this weird purple color?

Isaac turns to the limo driver and says something, but I can’t focus enough to catch it. The rear door opens and lights flash. Wyatt climbs in, and he drags a leggy brunette behind him.

He’s blurry, as though the lights from the cameras smeared him. Still beautiful, though. Bright eyes, dark hair, and so many glorious muscles.

Isaac’s arm is around me, and I lean into him. Wyatt’s brought some random woman for our night out. Guess he won’t be expecting me to thank him this time.

“Blanca, the Spanish supermodel.” Isaac gestures toward her and passes her a glass of white wine. “This is Ellie Cooper. Remember that name. She’s incredible. Gonna set the world on fire.”

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