Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

Give me one minute, sweetheart

And I’ll ruin everything

Thought I was a stranger

A man without shelter

A wanderer

Until I heard you whisper

And I knew that I was home

I think I heard you in my sleep

I think I found you in my dreams

I think I felt you in the daylight

Give me one minute, sweetheart

And I’ll ruin everything

My fingers stilled on the frets.

How did I keep from ruinin’ everything?

Maggie was there, hovering above me, those hands taking me by the outside of the head. I followed her lead and rolled my head back on the edge of the mattress.

The girl stared down at me.

Watching me with charcoal eyes.

She leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to my forehead.

But where she was really touching me was in the empty spot that would forever groan in the middle of my soul.

Twenty-Three

Rhys

Ten Years Old

Rhys pushed his key into the lock and twisted the knob, so slow and quiet as he edged open the door. He poked his head inside.

“Daddy?” he called, though his voice was hushed.

Fear clamored up and down his throat. It filled his whole body when he swallowed.

His heart beat hard. So hard it hurt his ears and made his stomach twist in knots.

Same way as it always did when he came home.

When he opened the door to the house that was too quiet.

His mama was at work, down at the diner.

They’d fought about that, too.

Her gettin’ a job. His daddy so mad but his mama saying it was what she had to do to pay the bills.

She’d said she’d do anything to make it work.

That she’d fight for their family.

Love, love, love.

She’d said it again and again.

But Rhys knew it was his job to fight for them. He was supposed to be the one takin’ care of them, the way he’d promised. Especially when it was his fault to begin with.

Sticky silence echoed from the house, the sun blazing in through the windows but the air so thick it might as well have been pitch black.

He softly clicked the door shut behind him and let his backpack slip off his shoulder and onto the floor.

Rhys went straight into the kitchen and to the refrigerator, already knowing his job. What his daddy would want. It was the only thing Rhys could do.

He grabbed the four beers left on a six-pack, and then he tiptoed down the hall, pressing his ear to his daddy’s door that was open an inch.

The sound of the television droned, so low you could barely tell what was bein’ said, everything else just as thick and sticky as the rest of the house.

Rhys gave a little push to the door. It drifted farther, yawning open to the room.

His daddy sat in the chair where he always sat. The one that looked out over the backyard at the fields that went on forever behind their house. Where he stared blankly for hours and hours.

All his daddy’s stuff was on a messy table beside him, pill bottles that were tipped over, some empty, some full.

A bunch of empty beer cans littered the space.

Today his daddy had one of the tall clear bottles, too, and half the alcohol inside was already gone.

“Daddy?” His voice trembled.

His dad barely moved.

Carefully, Rhys inched into the room, carrying the beers like an offering. He slowed even farther as he rounded the bed and moved into his daddy’s space, his eyes squeezing shut when he pushed the beers onto the table.

“There you go, Daddy. Anything else I can do?”

“Leave.”

Rhys’ ugly heart got twisted up in the knots in his stomach. He nodded quickly, started to leave, before he stopped by the bed. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

His daddy flinched. “Just go, Rhys. Don’t like you seein’ me like this.”

Rhys slinked back out, nearly tripping when his daddy’s voice hit him when he got to the door. “You’re a good boy, Rhys. A good, good boy.”

Rhys couldn’t answer. He just dropped his head and slunk out the door. His feet feeling like they weighed five million pounds. Because he wasn’t close to being good or strong. He was supposed to take care of his daddy. Make it better. But he didn’t know how.

Rhys’ mama kept brushing the hair back from his face where she was on her knees next to his bed. “Don’t cry, my sweet boy.”

“I wasn’t strong enough, Mama.”

“You’re so strong. So strong. Look at you, so brave every day, bein’ the man of the house.”

Her smile tipped at the edge of her mouth, and Rhys knew she was tryin’ not to cry.

“Daddy’s so mad at me.”

Her head shook, and she kept running her hands through his hair. “He’s just sad, Rhys. Real, real sad. We just have to keep loving him hard and strong until he’s able to smile again.”

Rhys nodded, and he swiped the tears staining his face with the back of his hands. “Okay. I’ll love him hard and strong and forever. Take care of him and you. I promise.”