Page 64 of Where the Stars Heal

“That’s a good idea, isn’t it, baby boy?” I coo into Ace’s neck, giving him one last hug.

“So,” Connor drawls, wagging his brows at me, “you gonna be my drinking buddy?”

Tonight is Hunter’s big annual party, a tradition he started years ago to celebrate a busy summer. As the months start to wind down, he picks one Saturday night when the bar runs on a skeleton crew so he can throw an open-door celebration. Tessa mentioned that most years, the old townies stop by early to share drinks, eat, and place bets on who will be taking who home—that’s where the guys picked up their infamous betting game at the bar. Then they clear out, leaving the night to the younger crowd.

The town has been buzzing with excitement all week, and whispers and murmurs circle around Piper, fueling the curiosity over what happened to her. Rumors say she might show up tonight, but no one has seen her since that night I made a fool of her. Some say she skipped town, while others say she’s just lying low, waiting for her time to come back. But that doesn’t faze me. If she shows up, so be it. Asher won’t stand for her dramatics, and neither will I.

I think back to that first month when I arrived here. The thought of being at a party this big would have had me spiraling into a panic attack. I would have locked myself in my room, popped two little white pills, and fallen into the void, the only place where the darkness made sense.

Now, I smirk at Connor. “On one condition,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Anything,” he replies excitedly like a child about to be given a bucket of candy.

“Don’t make me do anything stupid, and when Asher wants me to himself, you let him take me.”

“Oh, come on,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Asher always wants you to himself.”

I grin, patting him on the shoulder, and head for the bathroom to get ready.

Discomfort grows in my stomach. The music from the house rattles through the walls, and I look around my room, seeing how much it’s changed from the once-empty shell it used to be. Sketches are scattered across every surface, some pinned to the walls, moments in time of what my life has become here. Asher, his piercing eyes, the waterfall we love to hide behind. Madi’s bright smile. My eyes land on the nightstand, where the flower Asher once attempted to draw now sits framed. Beside it, a photo of my mom and me catches the light. The one Asher had found tucked away in my sketchbook.

A sharp pain hits me in the chest like an arrow finding its mark, and I step over to the photo. Picking it up, my fingers tremble as I trace her face with the pad of my thumb.

She looks so happy. It was one of the last good days I had with her before the darkness of her depression took over, sinking its claws into her with no way to get free. Ray had disappeared for the day, leaving us alone in the house without the suffocating fear of his presence.

I was thirteen. I remember calling Sarah, bouncing with excitement, asking if she’d like to come over to bake cookies with us. We laughed so hard we cried.We made a mess with the flour and eggs, and we panicked in our clean up, fearing Ray’s reaction if anything was out of place. Sarah grabbed my phone in the chaos of it all, capturing the moment when Mom hugged me so tightly, smiling over my shoulder. Those hugs were my favorite. They made me feel like I was her entire world.

The ache I’ve grown so accustomed to living with spreads outward, making itself more known. It presses against my ribs, growing heavy as each second passes, staring down at her smile. She walked away. Left me to live a life without her.

The memories of her hugs, the baking and laughter, her worry and need to protect me from all that she was suffering unravel in me, and I fight back the tears that want to consume me.

A low whistle cuts through the air, pulling me from my thoughts. I drop the photo and turn, finding Asher leaning casually in my doorway, his eyes slowly raking over me.

I smirk as his gaze lingers on my skin-tight black jeans, taking in the way they hug my legs and hips. The air around us shifts as the pull between us sparks with electricity. The ache in my chest begins to disappear, and the dread fades away.

Dressed in black jeans and a gray fitted tee, his curls tamed and his jaw clean-shaven, he looks sexy as hell. Like the first time I laid eyes on him, all dark and broody.

“Gotta stop looking at me like that, baby,” he rasps out, pushing off the doorframe, “otherwise we’ll never make it out there.” His thumb hooks behind him, toward the hallway.

Smiling, I close the space between us, and a low groan escapes him.

“Those red lips,” he mutters, his hands sliding up to cupmy breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hard peaks of my nipples covered in the white laced corset I borrowed from Tessa.

“This top,” he continues his voice holding little restraint, “pushing these stunning tits up, will be the death of me by the end of the night.”

“Well, then,” I whisper teasingly as I lean closer, my breath mingling with his, “we better start partying so you can steal me away from Connor sooner rather than later.”

Grabbing his hand and threading our fingers together, I tug him out of the room and into the chaos of the night. The hum of conversations and the bass of music hit me all at once. The house is alive with energy, thrumming in time with the beat of the music. The smell of meat cooking on the barbecue drifts inside. Popping wine bottles being uncorked echo from the kitchen as the sun begins to set behind the trees. Its fading light casts long shadows through the windows.

“HALLE!” someone shouts above the noise.

My eyes land on Connor, who’s stalking toward us with a wide grin and two cups in hand.

“Damn girl, you look hot!” he shouts, drawing the attention of everyone near us.

Asher growls beside me, and I squeeze his hand, glancing at him with my eyebrows shooting up.

“Did you just growl?” I ask, half-amused, half-confused.

---