Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Everyone crowded in toward the kitchen.

Maggie hit the landing and edged into the fray. But she was looking at me when she did, wearing a soft, coy smile that looked like she had a secret dancing on her lips.

Baz and Lyrik passed out shot glasses to those partaking, while two servers moved through the crowd refilling champagne flutes.

I kept trying not to steal peeks of Maggie while the rest of my band moved in closer, huddling around me where I stood next to Baz.

Baz lifted his glass over his head. “Just wanted to say a couple things. Emily, Richard, Rhys, Leif…” He gestured to each of us as he went. “Having been in a band for many years myself—”

The rest of Sunder chanted, “Sunder, Sunder, Sunder!” drumming their hands on the island.

Baz grinned. “Alright, assholes, let’s try not to steal someone else’s thunder, yeah?”

“We are the thunder,” Ash cracked.

“Not today, bro, a new storm is in town, and this one rolled in from the country. A little tornado, anyone?” I tossed right back, gesturing at myself as I let my gaze jump over the smiling faces.

Of course, it went straight for one.

Redness flushed her cheeks.

So damned pretty.

Baz chuckled. “Have no doubt you’re going to bring on a storm, Rhys. Betting the bank on it, actually. Bettin’ on all of you.” He pointed at each of us with the hand he had wrapped around his glass.

“I know firsthand the work it takes to be standing in the spot you are today. The sacrifices that are made. The loves that are lost and some of the dreams you have to let go in order to have the strength to chase down another. But I knew years ago that Carolina George was something special when I first heard you play at Charlie’s right here in Savannah. There was no question you had what it took. There was a quality to your music that stilled hearts and quieted people’s souls. It was clear you had a message that needed to be told.”

He cleared his throat, still looking between each of us. “Never could have imagined the turn of events that would lead us here today, that I would actually have the honor of getting to represent you, to come along beside you to help you become everything you are destined to be. But I can say I am grateful for it, and that I’m going to do everything in my power to guarantee your success.”

I glanced around at my crew.

Could physically feel the excitement stirring through their spirits.

Baz lifted his glass higher. “To Carolina George, on this day that marks a new beginning…may the music pour from your souls, may your inspiration never run dry, and may you never stop until you touch the stars.”

Shouts and cheers and clinking glasses erupted, and I was grinning like mad as I toasted my bandmates and they toasted me.

Because this…this was what I was supposed to be working toward. What I was purposed for. There had to be a reason.

I tossed back the sweet liquor. It burned as it raced down my throat. I breathed out heavily at the impact of it, as it coated my belly in a soothing, calming fire.

Instantly, my eyes were back to seeking hers.

Charcoal was staring back. Sketching again.

Cautiously, Maggie tipped me her glass in a silent cheer that somehow felt a little sad.

Girl looking at me in a way that touched me from across the space.

Innocent but knowing.

Unfound but familiar.

Impossible but real.

I jumped when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Thankful for the distraction, I dragged my attention from the trance and pulled out my phone so I could read the text.

My blood went cold.

It was the same number he always contacted me from, when he’d mete demands and tighten the fist he had wrapped around my throat.

Though this was different.

This was a picture…a picture of my mama…out in her garden tending to her tomatoes. It had been taken from a bit of a distance, clear as day that she had no clue that she was being photographed.

Being tracked.

Rage exploded in the middle of me.

My hand shot out to the island to keep me from dropping to my knees. Or maybe it was to keep me from flying out of there to go on a rampage.

Violence on my fingers. It buzzed again and a message blipped through.

You want to play with fire? Let’s play.

Dread curled down my spine.

Fuck.

The motherfucker knew.

I tried to swallow, but my throat felt sticky. Too tight.

Anger and guilt gushed, a thunder that raced through my veins. Sweat slicked my skin, and I could feel myself burning up from the inside out.

Barely able to stand, I muttered a quiet, “Excuse me.” I ducked out of the circle of my band who’d struck up a conversation with Lyrik and Baz, and I wound through the crush packed in the kitchen.