Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars 1)

By the time I stumbled out and dried and dressed, I could only feel her more.

Girl had gotten under my skin. Burrowed herself under my flesh. Would be just fine if those marks only went skin deep. But I knew . . . knew from the first night I’d met her that she had the power to seep into the cracks and the fissures. To embed herself where no other person could go.

Panic blazed, ignited by the suffocating guilt.

A shock of weakness slammed me, and I planted my hands on the dressing table to keep myself from falling, dropping my head between my shoulders with a heavy exhale. I squeezed my eyes closed like it might offer some relief. “Fuck . . . Maddie. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Only you. Forever. No matter what.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Her voice twisted through the room. A ghost. A specter.

Frantic, I moved for the closet in the bedroom and grabbed my backpack from the top shelf. I started shoving in a few things that I had to have, hands shaking like a bitch, before I moved into the bathroom to get my things in there. I knocked half the shit sitting on the counter onto the floor.

Not taking the time to pick it up, I left it and ran out into the living room to grab my notebook and my drumsticks, and I shoved them inside the bag.

I could send for the rest of my shit later.

I had to get out of there.

Right then.

No more playing these games.

Tiptoeing into a field of landmines where I’d already planted the bombs.

I knew full well where not to step, but my feet were treading there, anyway.

I tossed my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed my phone, and tapped out a message.

Me: Yo, Rhys. Change of plans. I’m heading back to Charlotte. Let Emily and Richard know I’m going to be in town.A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.

Rhys: What the fuck, man, waking me up at the ass crack of dawn to give me some shady-ass message. Only good reason for waking a man from his beauty rest is to tell him you won the lottery or there is a fight going down and you need a real man for backup. Doesn’t sound like either of those to me. So what? You bailing on Sunder? Or did they kick you? Drummin’ not good enough?Could tell he was trying to inject some humor into this shit. Guy always doing his own tiptoeing while slinging a load of bullshit.

Talking me down from the ledge I always teetered on. Like if he rambled enough of his nonsense, he would get a few true words from me. Guess he knew me better than I wanted him to.

Me: Just . . . changed my mind.Rhys: Bullshit.Me: Doesn’t matter.Rhys: Sounds like it does to me.I squeezed the phone in my hand, tipping my face toward the ceiling and gritting my teeth like it might rid me of the shame.

Problem was, I wasn’t entirely sure where it was coming from, which was completely fucked in itself.

Girl had messed with my mind.

My pulse screamed, roaring in my ears, and I had a pretty damned good idea that she was messing with my heart, too.

Me: Just deliver the message, would you?Needed to get back to my band. To my music. To my one reprieve.

And relief was not something I was going to find with the words I was writing here.

I grabbed my keys from the high bar, rushed back through the guest-house door, and headed for the gate.

I shouldn’t have looked back.

I knew it. But I’d never claimed not to be a goddamn fool, and I didn’t think I was physically strong enough to ignore the fucking hook that had sank into my back.

My eyes raced, already moving, drawn to their destination.

Through the far windows in the main house in the kitchen, my eyes tangled with hers where I knew she was standing at the sink.

Sable eyes.

Fathomless.

Bottomless.

They speared me from all the way across the yard. She might as well have been standing right in front of me.

Hurt.

Sorrowed.

Rejection bleeding out.

Worst part was the acceptance that I found there. Like she’d already known I would let her down, exactly the way I’d promised her I was going to do.

Emotion wobbled at the corner of my mouth. A pathetic smile. A halfhearted apology.

Truth was, I was sorry.

I was fucking sorry, but it didn’t change anything.

Forcing myself to turn, I let myself out the gate. I jabbed in the code on the pad to the side-door of the garage harder than necessary, keys getting stuck, like they were pissed off by this whole situation, too.

Rejecting what had to be done.

But it did.

Couldn’t allow my judgement to get clouded any farther. Couldn’t let myself sink any deeper.

Pushing the button to lift the third garage where my bike was parked, I went straight for it.