Page 84 of When Stars Fall

Calshae holds open the door as we squeeze through. “I had anyone turned away from staying here who was obviously a member of the press,” Calshae says as soon as we’re in the door. “But my employees aren’t detectives. There could be people here who work for gossip outlets who slipped through the cracks.”

I nod and glance at Wyatt. His jaw is tight, but he nods too. Out of the corner of his eye, he looks at me. “Are you coming up?”

“We should talk.” Worry eats at me, a worm in an apple. After the quiet stage, the next is the vindictive one, though I was never on the receiving end. He’s already called lawyers. Going up to his room might lead to another fight. There’s not much choice, with him leaving tomorrow. Determining a way forward over the phone gives us too much room for misunderstandings.

He takes my hand and the small action, so deeply familiar, gives me hope. He offers a gentle squeeze when our fingers intertwine, once a silent form of reassurance. Maybe we won’t fight. Heat floods my cheeks. Calshae gives me a sly look but this isn’t what she thinks.

When we get to his room, he drops my hand the minute we’re in the door. He sits in one of the chairs by the desk, hands clasped across his middle.

I perch on the edge of the bed, waiting. Starting with the lawyer seems confrontational, but I don’t want to hide what I’ve learned either.

“I just keep getting angrier.” He runs a hand down his face. “It’s like an endless spiral of rage. I don’t know when I’ll get to the bottom, but I’m not there yet.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About why I’m angry?”

“No, I understand why you’re angry,” I say. “But if you want to talk about anything . . .”

Wyatt’s shoulders fall. “There are so many things. The firsts with Haven. All of them—gone.”

“There are still some left. Lots of them.”

“Don’t. Okay? I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t.” He shakes his head. “I’ll say shit I don’t mean. Or that I mean right now, but won’t mean later. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m also not sure how to move forward.”

I scooch back onto the bed, drawing my knees to my chest. The answers don’t exist in me either. There’s no clear path to get past what we’ve both done to each other.

He examines me for a while before he speaks again. “You used to sit like that when we lived together. Do you realize that? If we got in a fight and you were in the wrong, you’d curl up into this little ball.” He stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I know that about you. I notice so many things. The last few days, I’m remembering more and more. Weird, right? I come after you because I love you and then spend these last few daysrememberingwhy I love you.”

Tears prick at my eyes. Seeing him again has been like that for me. Except I’ve spent years denying my feelings existed. Embracing them wasn’t an option. I have no idea if it is now either. His back is to me like he can’t stand to look at me.

“Everything about Haven’s nine years bothers me. All of it.” He goes to the curtain on the sliding door, drawn tight, and twists it back, peeking out. Turning, arms crossed, he stares at me. “The other thing that makes me angry, irrationally angry”—he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, as though he knows I’m going to think he’s lost his mind—“is that I didn’t get to see you pregnant with my kid, with Haven.” He comes to me and takes my hand, tugging me to my feet.

“I had terrible cravings for the strangest combinations,” I whisper. “Some things you might be glad you missed.”

“I’m not so sure.” He presses his hand against my stomach. “I think I would have loved it all. God knows I loved you.” The raw need in his voice hits me straight in the chest, piercing my heart.

“Wyatt,” I breathe out. The heat from his hand burns through me. I itch to shift his palm a little lower. My thoughts from earlier today are tiny fires threatening to become an inferno.

“All day, I’ve been looking at you, wondering what it might have been like if I’d gone to rehab like you asked, if I’d stayed that day instead of leaving, if I wasn’t so fucking out of it when you came back.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m sorry about everything I said during that fight, Ellie.”

Going back to either of those days doesn’t help us now. Without realizing it, we’ve shifted closer, so close that breathing makes our bodies touch. Every exhale skims us together. My heart wants to escape my chest and brush up against him. My eyes flutter closed, lost in a haze of sensations that have nothing to do with thinking. Wyatt’s breath stirs my hair next to my ear. I long for the press of his body against mine, for the length of him to fill me, to be sure he’s mine again. I’d give anything to have him mine again.

“Not unless you say yes.” Wyatt’s mouth is close enough to my ear his lips graze my earlobe, and I suppress a moan.

Fireworks go off in my brain, leaving behind a haze of memories. Every time he’s whispered in my ear in a crowded room, under the glare of lights, beneath the cover of darkness, bursts to the surface. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to argue anymore. I want to feel.

“Yes,” I whisper, eyes closed.

“Look at me.” His voice is gruff, one hand cupping my cheek.

Opening my eyes, I see my desire reflected on his face. So familiar. If I say the word again, there’ll be no turning back. If I think about what saying yes means, I won’t speak the word. “Yes.”

His hands sink into my hair, and his lips rush to meet mine. I wrap my arms around him, everything so natural I can switch off my brain, go on instinct. In one swift movement, he lifts my shirt over my head, my hair tumbling around my shoulders. Both hands come back to my hair, and he deepens the kiss. His lips are firm but soft, and his tongue tangles with mine.

I slide my hands up his muscular chest, taking his shirt with me. Our lips break contact only long enough for his shirt to pass his head. His kisses are hungry, demanding, as though we can rewind ten years in one night. Maybe we can.

My shorts pool at my feet. I step out of them while Wyatt trails his mouth down my neck. Nibbling my earlobe, he returns to my lips while I push his shorts off him. My hands slide into the waistband of his boxer briefs, grazing his ass and coming around to cup his manhood.

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