Bring Down the Stars

“I didn’t know what to say. I started babbling about keeping things casual and going to Lake Onota or some shit. She wasn’t happy.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” I said. “She told you something incredibly personal and embarrassing and you steamrolled over it.”

“What the hell should I have said?”

“That the guy was an idiot. You should have reassured her that she’s not going to get screwed over again. Or that at the very least, you respect her pain and you don’t want to add to it.”

Connor sagged and studied his beer bottle. “Yeah, that would’ve been exactly what she wanted to hear.”

Silence fell between us. My heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions—to helping Connor try again with Autumn, or to convince him to move on.

So you can take your shot?

“I wouldn’t mind something real with a girl, you know?” Connor said after a moment. “The hookups are fun, but I have a lot more to offer than money. And that stupid car. Jesus, I could’ve been driving a Pinto for all Autumn cared.” He looked at me. “No offense to your beautiful automotive trash heap.”

“None taken,” I said. Because Autumn wouldn’t care.

“When I told her about my sports bar idea, she said something amazing.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice low.

“She said she was going to go out into the world to help people, while I was creating a haven for them to come to. A haven.” He gave his head a short shake and put his beer bottle to his mouth. “My parents wouldn’t think like that. Ever.”

My pen scrawled along the blank page.

Haven.

Safety.

I give you my dreams for safekeeping.

“But it’s too late now,” Connor said. He drained his beer. “I fucked it up.”

I studied my best friend, whose inherent happiness was constantly beat down by the Drakes who wanted him to be something he wasn’t. Connor never wanted for anything in his life, but didn’t ask for much either.

He’s asking for her.

“What’s she doing now?” I asked.

“Autumn?” He shrugged. “I dropped her off at her place. Why?”

“Give me your phone.”

Connor fished it out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. “You have a plan?”

“Shh. Let me think.”

I opened the thread of messages with Autumn. My thumb hesitated over the key, and then I typed a textbook Connor Drake opener:

Hey. I wanted to tell you I had a great time tonight.

Connor brought his chair around to sit beside me. “You just broke my three-day rule,” he said. “Again.”

Autumn’s text came back. Me too.

Nothing else.

“Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” I said.