Page 74 of When Stars Fall

“And there’s the anger.” I’m not sure what emotion I should feel at the realization Wyatt’s exploring his legal options, but all I can muster is numbness. “Is he going to try to take her from me?”

“He’s not that dumb.” Nikki huffs out a breath.

My phone pings in my pocket, and I take it out. Wyatt’s at the gate. My day is rushing at me full tilt, and I can’t get my bearings. “He’s here, and I haven’t told Haven.”

“She already knows. Let him tell her. Maybe letting him see her joy will ease the sting a bit. She’s going to be so happy he knows.” Nikki opens the patio door. “I’ll let him in. Give you two a buffer.”

I sit on the lounge chair for a beat, gathering myself for the hard day ahead. Whatever he says or does, I have to keep the right attitude, for Haven’s sake.

When I step into the house, Wyatt is in the kitchen doorway, with Nikki in the lead. Haven is still seated at the table in the living room, the board game laid out. Wyatt’s jaw tenses, and he gives me a penetrating stare before glancing away, but he hangs back in the kitchen, and I go to him. I swallow the anxiety bubbling into my throat.

Nikki returns to the board game with Haven with an enthusiasm I know she doesn’t feel, chattering to keep Haven distracted. She keeps glancing at me and Wyatt.

Wyatt removes a stress ball from his pocket. This one is a different color than the one he had the other day. Probably wore the first one out. He’s so silent. Nervous energy dances along the surface of my skin. I expected him to march in here and declare himself her father. Give me his rage over the silent treatment any day. Give me his overconfidence instead of this strange uncertainty I sense.

“I take it you haven’t told her?” he mutters, his focus glued to Haven.

“She’s going to be over the moon.” I keep my voice pitched low.

“You know who should have been over the moon? Me. Nine years ago when she was born.”

The ice in his eyes makes me flinch. As angry as he is, something is holding him back from going to her. “Haven, honey, can you come over here for a minute?” I say. Nikki has done an amazing job containing her this long. The tension in the room must be palpable. I’ll have to work on concealing that for her sake.

Haven gets off her chair and rushes over to where Wyatt and I are standing. Wyatt crouches. He understands a cue better than anyone. His Adam’s apple bobs, and a twinge of anxiety pierces my heart. “You’re already aware of this, but I only found out last night . . .”

Haven’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. She glances at me, and I wipe away a few stray tears before nodding.

“Dad!” Haven flings her arms around his neck, burying her face in the hollow. “You’re my dad.”

“I am. I am your dad.” His voice is hoarse, but he manages to get the confirmation out.

Haven squeals and laughs. She steps back from him, looks him over, and then tackles him again. Wyatt lifts her into his arms and smooths back her long hair off her cheek. The tenderness is overwhelming.

“I want to see your room. I want to know everything.” He scans her face. “I want to know you. I’m so sorry I already missed so much.”

“But you came.” She puts her small hands on either side of his face and grins. “I was sure you’d come. I knew it.” Haven’s smile is triumphant. “We knew it, didn’t we, Mom?”

Looking at them through my tears, my heart is full, on the cusp of overflowing. All I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me.

Wyatt doesn’t glance my way before Haven takes him back to her room. She natters away like they’re already the best of friends. Tears slide down my face. When I look at Nikki, she’s crying too.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Wyatt

Present Day

When I walk down the hall to Haven’s bedroom, Ellie’s insistence I not come back here makes more sense. The walls are covered in pictures of her and Haven through the years. I want to stop and stare at them—examine each one in minute detail. Tear apart the memories and slot myself in. If only rectifying the mistakes in your past was that easy. Instead of dwelling on what I can’t have, I carry Haven until she tells me to turn into a doorway.

The room is a monstrosity of pink. I set her down, awed and horrified at the explosion of color. She beelines to a photo on her dresser. Me and Ellie at the MTV awards. I take it from her. Isaac took this picture. Pain shoots through my heart, and a familiar ache spirals out. The agony of missing him still takes me by surprise; it just flares a bit less often than it did at the start.

“That was a great night.” I hand the frame back. “Your mom and I were really happy.”

“Mom says I am the product of a lot of love—almost too much love.” She sets it in its place with almost exaggerated care.

“She does, does she?” I examine her artwork, pictures, mementos of places she’s traveled, things she’s done with Ellie and her family. A life she’s lived without me.

“Do you think that too?” Haven asks. “Did you love my mom like that?”

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