Catch Me When I Fall (Falling Stars 2)

Fuck me.

She was gorgeous.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

There was no accusation to it. Just interest.

“Needed to get out of that room. Get some fresh air.” She huffed a little breath from her nose, fidgeted with her sweatshirt. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“No?”

She tipped her face to the night sky. A slight breeze blistered through, whipping the tiny strands of her hair, the soft wisps kissing her cheeks. “It’s one of the things that’s been eluding me the most lately. Sleep. Peace.”

I barely nodded, not sure what to give, how far to push her, what she was ready for. “And you find it out here? Peace?”

My gaze drifted to the blackened river that snaked through the city, the hotel tucked up close to the river’s edge. Moonlight glittered in the rippling water, and a few sparse lights from boats dotted the expanse.

She offered me a soft, wistful smile. “Isn’t it, though? Peaceful? When you don’t have a home, I guess you have to find it wherever you go.”

I dragged a knuckle over my lips. Girl set me off kilter. “Is that what you’re missing? A home?”

She was back to staring at the endless sky, hugging her knees to her chest. “The road gets hard, you know? Bein’ alone all the time? Surrounded by thousands of people, and still so many times it feels like you’re just . . . there. A prop. Something to be seen but not really heard.”

“I get that.”

I did.

More than she could imagine.

“Is that what’s stopping you from signing? The road? Traveling? Being on the stage night after night rather than in the comfort of four walls?”

Is that what she was running toward?

She exhaled a heavy breath, and a lance of pain struck through her expression. “I want those things. So much. A home and a family. There’s a huge piece of me that is achin’, knowing what I’m missing.”

I could hear the hesitation in her voice, the girl wavering, close to giving me more.

“But I want to play music, too,” she added.

Exposed.

Vulnerable.

Beautiful.

“I want to play. Make it beautiful. Touch people’s hearts even if it’s just in passin’.”

“You do it better than anyone I’ve met.”

She forced a playful smile. “Are you tryin’ to come onto me again, Hollywood? Trying to win your way so I’ll finally sign that contract? Sell my soul and my songs to Mylton Records?”

Her voice hitched somewhere between a tease and a true question.

Chuckling low, I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my thighs, staring at her through the jumping flames. “Seems I don’t know how not to come onto you, Emily Ramsey. You do something to me that you shouldn’t. But in this case? No. I’m one-hundred-percent sincere. You have to be the most talented person I’ve ever met.”

A blush colored her cheeks. Heated by the fire. Heated by my unrelenting gaze.

My fingers itched, wanting to reach out and feel the burn on her skin.

Her eyes traveled off to the side, the girl warring with something deep. Finally, she turned her attention back to me, her stare hard yet open. Baring herself. “How would Mr. Fitzgerald feel if he knew my songs had run dry? That I haven’t been able to write in months?”

I had to keep myself from cringing at her statement.

Traumas did that.

Stole your inspiration.

Your faith.

If you let them, they would steal who you were meant to be.

I could feel the piece of paper I’d ripped out of the journal burning a hole in my pocket. Desperately, I wanted to comfort her. To just . . . fucking say it. Time was ticking, and still, it was far too soon.

“If he was smart, he would wait for them. He’d know they would be worth it,” I told her.

She studied me, like she was trying to pry every single thought from my mind, all while placing her cares in my hands. “And what if they never come? What if that well has gone dry? What if I’ve already broken apart and there’s nothing left to give?”

“Maybe it’s Mylton Records that doesn’t deserve you, Emily. Just like me.”

Pain pinched her face. “I . . . I think I need to tell you somethin’.”

She blinked a bunch of times.

My heart twisted into a thousand knots.

Thunder hammered in my chest.

I swallowed hard. “I’m listening.”

She cringed, fidgeted, dropped her gaze. “It’s nothin’.”

I slipped forward, angling my head so I could capture her eye. “It’s not nothing if it means something to you.”

Warily, she peered up at me.

Two of us trapped.

Prisoners to whatever the fuck this feeling was. Something unfound. Bigger than I’d ever experienced.

Impossible.

She shifted that sexy body on the couch, letting her feet drop to the ground as she edged my way a fraction.

Intensity lit.

Banged in the bare space between us.

I had to stifle a groan. Had to fucking remind myself fifteen thousand times that I couldn’t have her. Had to clench my fists to keep from driving my fingers into her hair and kissing her wild.