Page 66 of When Stars Fall

“Putting my name on the birth certificate is a stellar idea to keep the truth a secret.”

“I thought you’d come for us. I wanted her to know, and I never expected it to take ten years.”

“I fucking came, Ellie,” I burst out, throwing out an arm. “Years ago, I came. You wouldn’t see me.”

“No one told me.”

“Well, your parents were aware. Your mother met me at the gate. She took one look at me and walked all the way back down the path to the house. Didn’t say a single word to me.”

“You were still using.”

“Of course I was,” I snap. “I had noreasonto quit.”

“You needed a reason after what we had together?Ishould have been the reason. I asked you to. There’s your reason.”

“Yeah, you did. But you didn’t tell mewhy, Ellie. And that would have made the difference.”

“We’re going in circles.” Impatience sparks off Ellie, directed at me. “I didn’t try to make you aware again, and I should have.” She presses her fingers into her forehead. “I don’t know anymore. But I didn’t. I can’t take it back.”

“Just go—leave.” Ten years of Haven’s life are lost to me. All the firsts. How do we recover from a lie that big? “I can’t stand the sight of you right now.”

Ellie’s eyes fill with tears. Something deep inside of me shifts on a dime, an instinct so ingrained I can’t help myself, and I step toward her. With only one exception, Ellie’s tears have always been my undoing. If only they’d undone me that time too.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I admit.

Her bottom lip trembles. A tear falls, and she uses a finger to scoop it. Her shoulders shrug, almost imperceptibly. “Maybe I deserve it.”

“I’m really angry. I’m frustrated. I can’t—I don’t know how to handle this.”

“You think I do?”

“You’ve had years to prepare for this possibility. I didn’t even realize it existed.”

“Do you want me to go?” Tears slide down her cheeks. She brushes them away, but they don’t stop falling.

My anger is a pit, bottomless. But every time a tear trickles out, I long to reach for her, to tug her close, to ease her pain. I want to beat the shit out of whoever made her cry. Not so simple this time. I wish it was.

“I want you to go,” I say. “But I’m coming to your house later today. I’m spending time with my daughter. I don’t care if I bring the storm to your doorstep.”

“Okay.”

“You should have told me, Ellie.Youshould have told me.”

She closes her eyes, and more tears slide down her cheeks. “I’ll go.” She steps past me to head for the door.

My arms ache with the effort not to grab her. Seeing her so sad crushes me, but every time Haven crosses my mind, I can’t get my anger under control either. I love her, but I hate what she’s done.

Ten years.

The door clicks closed behind her. I stride over to slide the locks in place, but when I reach the door, her muffled crying comes through the thin wood. She must be leaning on the door because it rattles with each sob. My hands and forehead are pressed against the surface, seeking the connection. I want to go out, drag her into my arms, tell her I can fix everything.

I’m not sure we can be fixed.

The itch hits me in a rush, as strong as it did the first week I quit. I leave the door to grab my bag, and I tear through the nooks and crannies, searching for anything left behind. Whatever I find will be expired, but I don’t care. Anything to take the edge off. In the bathroom I stare at the empty alcohol bottles in the garbage. An impulsive prick. I want another one of those bottles so badly.

My hands are splayed on the bathroom counter, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My wild look peers back.

I’m not going to screw up my life. Not this time. Not any time. Not anymore. I roll my shoulders and take out my phone. My manager, Tommy, answers on the second ring.

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