Page 25 of When Stars Fall

“Yesterday you met with Ellie Cooper at your house,” I say. “You so much as look at her and I will get you blackballed. Do you understand me? Tell your pervy friends that Ellie Cooper is off limits.”

He climbs to his feet awkwardly as I start to stride out. “I’m going to sue your ass, Wyatt!” he calls.

I turn and throw out my hands. “Do your worst, Phil. I have more money than God.” I storm back, fist cocked. “You know what? If you’re going to sue me, I might as well make the court case worth it.” This time, I hit him with my left. He lands on the ground with anoof. Much better technique. I don’t have to shake my hand at all. Or maybe the Percocet kicked in.

“Ah, sir?” Kyle strides along beside me.

I glance at him, too caught up in my own thoughts. Leeman’s not gonna sue me. His dirty laundry would get aired.

“You split your knuckles.” Kyle points to my hands.

Shit. Gratification swells in me. He hit the ground so hard, so shocked, each time. I flex my hands in wonder. That Percocet came in handy after all. Just the way I like it; I didn’t feel a thing.

Chapter Eleven

Wyatt

Present Day

I’m at the front entrance of the hotel waiting for Ellie. Sweat trickles down my back. The humidity is brutal.

Earlier, I saw Haven. I took her a small tub of ice cream and stayed for a chat. She reminds me of Ellie, or maybe I want to see Ellie in her. My heart squeezed in my chest over and over again as Haven and I talked. They must spend a lot of time together. Nikki was the only one there, and I dusted off my most charming material. Ellie’s sister barely cracked a smile.

Just before I left, the doctor came around and confirmed Haven’s fever was gone, and the virus had likely run its course. Hearing the news was a load off my mind, and Nikki breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Ellie approaches the circular entrance of the hotel on her bike and when she stops in front of me, she takes off her helmet. Her posture is stiff, and her eyes are blazing. Something’s changed, and not in the good way I expected with Haven’s release from the hospital.

She throws her second helmet at me but doesn’t say a word. I examine her with the helmet in my hands. This is how I expected her to react when she found out about my suicide attempt.

“Well,” I say. “Are you going to tell me what I did, or should I guess?” That’d be a short game.

“I am unbelievably angry with you.” Her hands shake as they rest on the handlebars.

“You didn’t watch the whole interview the other night?” I climb on behind her.

She shifts forward so we aren’t touching. At least this reaction makes more sense. She roars out of the hotel lot, and we make it back to her house in record time. The gates are already open when we arrive. One of her security guards must listen for her coming. She drives into the garage, takes off her helmet, and drops it on a rack. She doesn’t wait for me.

I place my helmet beside hers and trail behind her with my hands in the pockets of my shorts. My approach to this conversation might set the tone for where we go from here, but I’m not sure what to say.

In the living room, she’s pacing, and there’s a wildness to the movement I’ve never seen from Ellie before. “When?” She stares at me with pained eyes. “I watched that interview a million times today, trying to put it together. When did you do it?”

“Right after you left. Within a week of you being gone.” No point in lying. Most of it is common knowledge if you call the right people. Now that it’s out, the tabloids have been trying to reach every person in my circle, if my social media notifications are to be believed.

“When you were admitted to the hospital for exhaustion? It wasn’t exhaustion? Your stay was because of attempted suicide?” She perches on the edge of the couch and then stands again. She vibrates with restless energy, like me when I’m itching.

“Come on, Ellie. We played those games before. How many people are actually admitted for exhaustion?” I give her a wry smile. “It’s rarely just that.”

In many ways, we’re discussing a different person. Sometimes I pretend I can’t remember why I took way too many pills. Better if I don’t think about my reasoning too hard. Even after years and a lot of therapy, I’m not sure if I overdosed on purpose or if I just let it happen. The result would have been the same. So I’ve worked to own that episode, privately until recently, and very publicly now.

“I just—I imagined you went on a bender, maybe weren’t sleeping.” She keeps pacing and takes a deep breath while running her hands through her hair. “Katrina Wexler. That woman who moved into our house within a month of us breaking up . . . She was some sort of suicide counselor?” Her voice brims with confusion.

“Yeah.” I spread my hands wide. “The media storm about us was all bullshit.”

“Those shirts,” she says in disbelief. “All the team stuff. Team Ellie, Team Katrina. People were sure you cheated on me.”

“What did you think?” I paid a lot of money to keep my suicide attempt quiet, and my lawyer had everyone and their uncle sign an ironclad NDA.

“That you were an asshole.” She collapses onto the couch, and agony coats her face. “But I never believed you cheated on me.” She shakes her head. “I would have . . . if I’d known, I . . .” She trails off, closing her eyes and swallowing. “Who found you?”

---