Page 23 of Falling Stars

I press my palm into my aching back, hating that the only person I have to enjoy dinner with is my client. My mom’s in Amarillo, Paige is in New York with Maverick, and my sister is out of town visiting friends.

I can’t explain it, but I feel so alone right now.

My little kicker knees my kidney, and I stifle my groan. “I could use the company.”

Miss Rosie pats my hand. “Let’s go.”

We amble at our glacial pace, but it’s okay because my guts hurt from standing all day. When we get to the restaurant, I can tell by people’s expressions that the game isn’t going well.

I head to the flatscreen over the bar. Everyone’s watching it. I glance to the right, to the wall dedicated to Maverick. This town is so proud of him. I am too.

“Come on, Maverick. Show ’em how it’s done!” Zale, the bartender, shouts.

“What’s the score?” I ask.

“Thirty to sixteen.”

I cringe. Maverick must be dying inside that he’s losing a game he flew his family to watch.

All of a sudden, my chest feels so heavy, it’s hard to breathe. I lean against the sturdy frame of the bar.

When I look up, Maverick is leaping into the air. The ball is thrown too hard, and it skates off his fingers. Damn.

I don’t know what happens next, but a split second later, Maverick’s at the bottom of a heap of bodies.

One by one, they peel off him.

Until he’s lying there.

Motionless.

I suck in a breath when he doesn’t get up. He’s lying at an awkward angle, his head tilted off to the side in a way that makes it almost seem like he’s… like he’s dead.

I press my hand to my mouth so I don’t scream.Get up, Mav. Get up.

Everyone starts shouting at the TV. “You got this, Walker! Come on, boy!”

Paramedics run out onto the field and surround his still body.

This isn’t how it ends for him. It can’t be.

Tears streak down my face. “Get up, Maverick.”

Guilt for all the passive-aggressive things I said to him over the years flood my mind. It’s not his fault he didn’t love me back. Why couldn’t I just be his friend and leave it at that? Why did I have to be so angry he didn’t want me? Why couldn’t I be happy he found a girlfriend?

EMTs wrap a brace around his neck and slide his limp body onto a stretcher. As they cart him off the field, a gush of water lands at my feet.

What the hell is going on right now?

I shake my head. I’m not supposed to go into labor yet. My mom’s not here. Paige isn’t here. My sister isn’t here. No one is here!

Miss Rosie’s eyes widen as she glances at the floor. “Oh, dear. You tinkled.”

On any other day, I’d laugh, but Maverick might be dying right now, and I’m in Wild Heart instead of New York.

A contraction hits so hard, I slump to the floor and curl around my stomach.

As I stare at peanut shells, dirty boots, and crumpled napkins, I accept I’ll have to do this alone.

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