Falling into You (Falling Stars 3)

I instantly felt the loss of it like a kick to the gut. This hollowed-out vacancy that moaned and ached.

Coming alive from where it’d lain only half dormant in the time he’d been gone.

Agony rushed me all at once.

I stifled it and tried to hold it together, but my chest constricted, and moisture clouded my eyes as a sea of sorrow threatened to sweep me away. Through the tears, I looked out the window at the passing countryside.

I just needed to make it home. Get inside and lock the door and shut him out.

Permanently.

Because I wasn’t sure I could remain this close to him for a second longer, for my heart to be right there but no longer mine to keep.

Pressure filled the space. His breaths hot and heavy and saturating the air.

The man the oxygen in my lungs.

Questions vied to get free. Like talons trying to claw their way out of me. Eviscerating. No care for the destruction their seeking this closure might impose.

I bit down on my tongue, praying for the seconds to pass, holding my breath, feeling like I was nearly gonna faint by the time Richard rounded the last curve that brought the house into view.

A beacon on the hill.

In silence, we rambled up the dirt drive, old truck bouncing like crazy, my hand already curled around the doorlatch.

Before he came to a full stop, I was out the door like a gun had gone off, and I was launching myself into a 300-yard dash.

I rounded the back of the truck so I could get to my child.

And yet again, he was there.

Invading my space.

Stealing that breath that he’d supplied.

Before I could argue with him, he shot me a look that told me his actions were not up for debate when he opened the back door.

Oh, I was pretty sure there was plenty to quarrel about.

But still, I remained quiet as he picked her up, his entire demeanor at odds with the gentle way he handled her.

The way he pulled her sleeping form into his arms.

The way his breaths were short and ragged.

As if he were suffering.

Physically.

Mentally.

Like maybe he’d had his heart broken as severely as mine.

My spirit screamed, Why, why, why? Why would you do this to me? Was loving her too much of me to ask?

I sucked them down and instead ran ahead of him, keeping my footsteps quieted as I moved up to the porch and to the door. I pushed my key into the lock, and I could feel him behind me, the man towering, a dark fortress that eclipsed.

My bright star that had gone dim.

I struggled for clarity as I let us into the darkness of the sleeping house.

“Shh,” I whispered as if the baited silence echoing back needed to be acknowledged. But the last thing I needed was for my daddy to come face-to-face with Richard having the nerve to come stand under his roof.

As it was, I’d been worried the man was going to have an aneurism when I’d told him what had happened—that Daisy had hurt her arm and Richard was driving us to the emergency room—that vein at his temple thumping like mad and gettin’ ready to burst.

I hadn’t stuck around for the lecture that I’d known was coming. It wasn’t like I didn’t already know exactly what my daddy would say.

“This way,” I muttered, heading for the stairs. They creaked as we ascended, but I was worried it was the thunder of my heart that was going to wake the entire house.

Richard didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

His presence profound.

Loud.

Already proclaiming that he was there.

At the landing, I took a right and ushered Richard into the room across from mine that had been Liliana’s.

He slowed for a second, glancing down at me, this hard, tortured turmoil in his eyes.

Did he get it?

The pain I’d endured?

His thick throat bobbing with his heavy swallow, he tore his gaze from mine and carried Daisy inside.

The room had been redone since the last time he’d been there. It was now a painted oasis of rainbows and flowers and unicorns.

Magic.

Just like the little girl.

Richard’s gaze darted around, taking it in before he moved to her bed that we’d made to look like she was floating on a cloud in that blue, blue sky.

I pulled back the covers, and he set her onto the mattress.

“She needs a bath but I’m pretty sure she would lose it if I woke her up right now,” I said quietly, rambling more than I should. “She never wants to go to sleep and then she’ll fight you tooth and nail if she has to get up.”

He nodded, voice rough, sage eyes caressing over me. “Rest is probably more important right now. It’s been a hard day. I think she had to have been in a lot more pain than she was letting on.”