Page 101 of Starstruck
Anger.
Fear.
Anxiety.
Sadness.
I rush down the steps and make my way to the side of the building, trying to catch my breath as the tears that threatened to fall the entire time I was up there finally do. A sob racks through me, and I bury my head in my hands, leaning back against the wall of the building.
“Lennon!” I hear a familiar voice say, and the next minute strong, firm arms are wrapped tight around me. It’s much too hot out for this right now, but that doesn’t stop me from burrowing my head in his chest as he strokes a hand down the back of my head. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
My fingers tangle in Baxter’s black button-down as I cry into his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, which I know is meant to comfort me but only ends up making me cry harder.
I knew when I was asked to testify that I’d have to relive that day. I just didn’t think it’d be so painful.
The amount of times I’ve been bombarded with the memory unwillingly—I thought, or I guesshoped, recalling the events of that night of my own free will would hurt less. But I was fooling myself thinking that.
There’s nothing—no one—that would dull the ache in my chest when it comes to remembering the events that killed my parents.
“You did so good, Lenny girl. It’s over now,” Baxter hums into my hair as I continue to cry. My breathing has settled and the tears have slowed, but I continue to hold onto him like he’s my lifeline, keeping my head above water.
“Wh-what if they let him go?” I stammer, pulling my face back to look up at him. His dark-blue gaze peers deep into my soul as he looks down at me, nothing but concern written on his face.
“They won’t.” He combs a piece of hair behind my ear before cupping my face and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I grip his wrists and squeeze my eyes shut. “They won’t,” he repeats, this time firmer, like by saying the words with such assurance, he’s manifesting that the jury will find Logan Jameson guilty.
Because he is.
All I can do is hope everyone else thinks so, too.
[44 ]
WOULD IT BE ENOUGH?
LENNON
“PEACE” BY TAYLOR SWIFT
The nightmare started the same way they always do.
The flashing lights, the sirens in the distance, all my senses in overdrive. My head was throbbing, and I stared at the crowds of people, trying to remember what happened.
Usually, that’s when I’d look over and find my mom in the seat next to me and my dad in the back. I was prepared for that, hoping that, unlike the one I had a month ago, they would at least be alive this time.
But instead, it was Baxter in place of my mom.
I must’ve cried out for him when it happened. I woke up a few moments ago to find his arms wrapped tight around me and him repeating the words, “You’re safe,” over and over again.
I don’t remember what happened next. I know the rest of the nightmare played out, but all of it and even the image my mind invented of him with a piece of glass sticking out of his chest is blurry.
I’ve never not remembered the entire nightmare before. I canrecall nearly every single nightmare I’ve had since the accident in clear detail.
But not this one.
I’m so used to waking up alone and dealing with the painful memories on my own. Part of me wonders if having him next to me, holding me through it, helped to block out the rest of it.
If that’s the case, then I never want to sleep without him again.
I haven’t said anything yet, and since my back is to him, I don’t think he’s realized I’m awake. I’ve just been lying here wrapped in his arms, trying to calm my breathing while I listen to the sound of his voice.
