Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Only thing I was certain of, the ghosts of it were still haunting her dreams.

“It was nothing,” she muttered, though pain slashed through her expression. Unable to stand still beneath the weight of it, I was on my feet, and Maggie was makin’ a shocked little sound, her eyes going astray as she dragged her attention down my torso before she snapped her focus back to my face.

She backed away as I edged her direction. “It’s something, Maggie.”

A trembling hand fluttered to her mouth, and she blinked, gesturing behind her. “I…I should go.”

I grabbed her by the wrist to stop her.

Gentle but fierce.

Heat pulsed, and shit, the girl looked so confused.

Yeah, sweetness. I’m fuckin’ confused, too.

“Please…don’t pretend with me.” The words grated from my throat.

I was so sick of the make believe.

Pretending like everything was fine and dandy. All rainbows and flowers and unicorns shittin’ glitter.

Maggie searched me.

Frantically, almost.

Her heart banged against her ribs.

Palpable.

A shiver of need rippled across my bare flesh.

“Don’t you know sometimes the only thing we can do is pretend?” she whispered.

“Not with you.” It was out before I realized what I was asking of her.

Something else I couldn’t give.

“Rhys.” It was a whimper, and I was right there, the girl pinned against the wall with me towering over her.

Her chest heaved with her strained breaths.

Her eyes wide.

Like she didn’t know if she should be terrified or lean in.

“You don’t want to pretend? Then who are you really, Rhys Manning?” She set her palm over the thunder of my chest. “Who’s this sad boy wearing that grin who’s hurting so deeply inside?”

There she was. This girl who could see right through me. Like she had a tap. All she had to do was pull the handle and all that dark bitterness would come gushing out.

I swallowed hard. “You’re right, Sweet Thing. You should go.”

Before I begged her to stay.

Before we crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.

Before I repeated every mistake I’d already made and dragged her down a road I knew better than to ask her to travel.

A dead end.

Because mixed up in me was a place she couldn’t afford to be.

Seven

Maggie

My feet pounded the cracked pavement as I jogged along the side of the narrow, desolate lane. There were few better ways to clear your head than a good morning run.

My lungs strained with my panted, hardened breaths, and with each one, I inhaled the distinct scents of the sea.

After spending the night in Rhys Manning’s bed doing not so salacious things that still had felt erotic, I had to get out of that house.

Regroup and reclaim a little clarity because I was concerned the man was clouding sound mind.

Skewing judgement.

I could still feel it. The way it’d felt in the safety of his arms.

Every sensation dark and decadent.

Rife with the promise of pleasure that had been just out of reach, dangled over my head like a tease.

It’d left me so needy that I’d worried I would start begging for it.

Reckless girl.

It didn’t matter if I’d never experienced it before, there was no mistaking what he was igniting in me.

I needed to fight it.

Ignore it.

This feeling I wanted to disappear into.

I needed to hold onto the truth that the man was nothing but a threat to my heart that was just beginning to heal.

This man who was chaos.

Rough and playful.

Aloof and caring.

So glaringly broken yet I wondered if anyone else could recognize it the way that I did.

And then he’d gone and held me when I’d been the one breaking apart. The way I did most nights. I’d woken up not sure if I wanted to hide it, pretend some more, or offer that part of myself to be held by those big, capable hands.

The biggest issue with all of this?

There was absolutely no question those capable hands had the power to crush.

And I needed to focus more on healing rather than setting myself up to get hurt again.

The air was hot and muggy, and the sun beat down on my skin where the rays speared through the leaves of the sprawling, gangly oaks that were interspersed with leafy palms that grew in front of the properties that lined the road.

The Earth’s beauty all around.

The rhythm of my steps and the steady thrum of the music pulsing from my earbuds lulled me into a peace.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

It called me to a place where the fears and the worries melted away.

When I ran, it felt like my spirit and body were in sync.

At one.

It was as if I could physically feel some of those internal scars healing. The ones that had been buried deep.

Ones I’d had to cover for so many years and pretend like they didn’t exist.

The ones Cory Douglas had inflicted.

I’d almost come to accept their presence as normal.

As a permanent, ordinary part of me.

Outrage flashed.