Page 81 of We Are the Stars

The boys are standing on the front porch when I arrive. Nate’s eyes are narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. Blake’s hand rests on his back, holding him steady.

“What the hell happened.” It’s a question, but it’s not spoken as one.

I glance around, noting too many people outside for my liking. “Can we do this inside, please?”

“No. Elliott’s in there and I’m not letting you in until I know she’s not wearing that bandage because of you.”

I stumble backward at his accusation. Does he honestly think I’m capable of that? Am I?My father was. He crushed my mother with his bare hands, stole the breath straight from her lungs. He didn’t let go until she was dead.

No. I’m not him. I won’t be like him.

“Nate… Do you…” It hurts to try to get the words out, almost as much as it hurts that Nate could even possibly think I’m capable of intentionally hurting Elliott. “Do you think I hit her?”

“Did you?”

“Fuck no,” I spit out. “Do you honestly believe I’d do that? Is that truly what you fucking think of me? If so, we need to reevaluate our so-calledfriendship.”

Nate takes a steady breath and relaxes his stance, unfolding his arms and letting them hang loose. Blake twines his fingers between his boyfriend’s.

“No, I don’t think you’d do that, but you weren’tyoulast night, were you?”

I wish I could tell him it wasn’t me, that it was a random fit of anger, that I had to put Jase in his place—but I can’t say any of that with honesty.

It was me and the darkness that hides inside. It wasn’t random anger—a little misplaced, sure, but not random. I could have ignored Jase. Instead I chose to engage.

When I don’t say anything, Nate nods, understanding as best he can.

“She’s inside,” Blake tells me. “We’re going to go grab coffee and donuts. We’ll be back shortly.”

As they walk past me, Nate lays a hand on my shoulder.

“She’s a tough girl, but last night messed her up. Be careful with her, Carsen.”

He walks away and I’m stuck standing there staring up at my house, too scared to walk inside.

My gut is filled with bricks. I’m sweating and my hands are beginning to go numb from how tightly I have them locked into fists.

By sheer will, I push myself forward and open the front door.

It’s eerily quiet in the house, making my breaths sound harsher than they are. I move farther inside. The living room is empty and so is the kitchen. I take the stairs one at a time, slowly and methodically. Normally I’d rush anywhere to see Elliott; today I don’t want to. Whatever is about to happen, what we’re going to talk about, it’s going to change everything—and I’m not ready for that.

I don’t pause outside my door, convinced I need to rip this off like a Band-Aid and march in there ready to fight.

The balcony doors are open and I know that’s where she is.

I cross my room and edge my way outside. She’s sitting on the lone chair, her feet propped up on the white railing.

She looks tired and a little sad. The cut on her head is covered in a bandage but I can still see the purple bruise forming around it. The sight turns my stomach and I have to take deep breaths so I don’t puke.

Elliott knows I’m here but she doesn’t acknowledge me. I sit on the other side of the doors on the ground, pulling my knees close to my chest. I close my eyes and rest my head on my knees—I can’t look at her when I know she’s about to shatter me more.

The worst part is, I deserve it all too.

“It’s peaceful out here.”

I nod.

“The kind of peaceful where you can get a lot of thinking done. That’s what I’ve been doing all morning. By the way, the sunrise is beautiful out here too.”

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