Page 29 of Where the Stars Heal

Spinning to face me, he smiles and takes slow steps back toward his truck. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Halle.”

Opening his door, he gets in and runs his hand throughhis messy curls. I can’t help but stare at the movement and how the sleeve of his tee stretches over his bicep. He catches me staring and lifts his hand in a small wave. The corners of my lips lift and I shake my head at him. A wave of emotions runs through me, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to be pulled into the darkness tonight. I don’t want to forget.

13

I DON’T HAVE TO PRETEND

HALLE

“Please, Halle,” Madi whines at me, “please, please, please.”

Her elbows rest on the table as she buries her face in her hands, shielding her eyes from thebright lightsas she calls them. The bright lights are the sun.

Hiding my smile, I bring my coffee to my lips and take a sip, letting the warmth spread through me. I woke up this morning and found Connor snoring on the couch. It was a sight I wasn’t expecting first thing. His hair was like a lion’s mane, and Ace was curled up on his chest, his cute little bum planted on his face. I had to stifle a laugh to keep quiet, but then Madi stumbled out of the spare room, crashing into the wall, and woke the two of them up. Knowing we needed the good kind of coffee to get through the day, we decided to head down to Sunlit Espresso.

Connor snickers at her and taps her head playfully. “Did someone drink a little too much last night?”

“Why are you screaming at me?” She winces.

“No one is screaming, Madi,” I say, patting her on the shoulder.

She peeks through her fingers at me and pouts. “Please, it’s the only way I’ll get through my day, and I can’t move without my head pounding.”

“A bit dramatic there, Mads,” Connor says.

“Don’t call me Mads,” she snaps back. “I’d like to see you suffer through a wine hangover.”

“Nope, not a chance in hell,” he gloats. “This is why we drink beer, not wine.”

Watching their banter is fascinating. I’ve never been around a group of friends like this before. I’ve never had friends before. But sitting here with them makes me feel like I’m a part of something, even if I’m just sitting on the edges of their circle. The way they tease and joke with each other, the way they’re there for one another when times are hard. It’s effortless. I’ve always dreamed of something like this.

Madi turns her attention back to me, her eyes pleading. “Please, Halle. I’ll love you forever. You’ll be my favorite Dawson.”

“In that case, how can I say no?” I smirk at her, standing. “But I’m getting one, too.”

I head inside to order us blueberry muffins. I would have said yes ten minutes ago, but I was having too much fun making Madi suffer out there.

The bell above the door chimes as I push it open. It’s quiet here this morning. The sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop, casting a warm glow across the space. The smell of freshly baked goods and coffee fills the air.

Tessa looks up from the counter as I approach and leans over with a wide smile. “Let me guess, blueberry muffins?”

“Please, but make it two, Honey,” I tease, smiling at the name badge that she wears.

“I am never living this name badge down, am I?”

“Nope. I think it suits you, though,” I say with a shrug.

Hanging out with Tessa last night made me realize how easy she is to be around. Both she and Madi have been welcoming and patient with me. They haven’t pushed for my story, never questioning why I’m here or where I came from. When I’m around them, everything feels a little lighter, and I’m grateful for that. It’s a strange feeling, having people wanting to be your friend.

Tessa shakes her head at me with a small smile, moving to grab the muffins.

“So, how’s our table dancing friend today?” she asks playfully. “I bet she has a killer headache.”

A quiet laugh escapes me. “She’s trying to hide from the sun at the moment, and she keeps thinking Connor is screaming at her when he’s not.”

“Well,” Tessa says, looking more amused than ever, “drinking that much wine will do that to you. We did tell her to drink more water.”

The bell above the door chimes, and I look over my shoulder to see Asher standing there. His eyes scan the coffee shop, lips pursed with his brows pinched, like he’s looking for someone. My heart skips a beat and begins racing at the sight of him. He looks like he just finished a run. His shorts cling to his muscled thighs, and his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat. How is someone that good-looking after running? It’s unfair. His shoulders visibly relax, and a slow smile spreads across his face when he spots me.

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