Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

“You run out of chances when you’re in the ground, understand? There some reason you wouldn’t fight for her until the end?”

I looked over the top of the railing at the fire pit, where embers glowed orange. No reason I could think of. I’d tried to make it work with someone I hadn’t loved, with someone who hadn’t inspired in me the kind of passion that scared me, and I’d failed miserably. It was Lake or nobody. “No.”

“You’re a grown man, son. Fear’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

Was the house enough as it was? Was I? Henry thought so. Lake thought so. I could give Lake what she’d been asking for since the beginning—us. Not knowing if she still wanted that made everything in my body hurt, but I couldn’t let that stop me if she did want it. “Yeah,” was all I said.

“Yeah,” Henry agreed.

When we’d smoked down our cigars and gone back inside, I started to turn out the lights in the kitchen.

Henry stopped and turned around in the doorway. “You never really had a fair shot at the family thing,” he said. “Everything that happened with Madison and your parents messing you over, it’s tragic, Manning. Really unfortunate. And then the miscarriage. It really breaks my heart.”

My throat got dry enough to make me cough into my fist. Henry had lived all that with me. He didn’t need to acknowledge it, but hearing it from him struck something deep in me. I could comprehend now, as an older man, that a lot of that stuff had happened to me—not because I’d done something wrong. If I’d lost a son years ago when I’d constantly blamed myself for things out of my control, I wasn’t sure I’d have recovered. “I know.”

“You deserve a family, and you shouldn’t have to wait anymore.”

I couldn’t answer him for the lump in my throat. My last contact with my dad had been the letters I’d received in jail a decade earlier. Henry was the only person looking out for me. I didn’t have to tell him he was my family, so I just nodded.

“I want to see you as a husband and a father as much as I want my own kid’s happiness. Stop punishing yourself, and stop punishing Lake. You go be the man she needs, you hear?”

Between Lake’s age and my marriage and prison and losing a son and Corbin—there’d been a lot in our way, but Henry was right; it’d stolen the spotlight for too long. Our timing had never been right, so why not now? I looked up at the roof I’d built to put over Lake’s head, at the dining chairs I’d constructed out of reclaimed wood from this very forest where I’d fallen in love with her, and at the countertop I’d sanded and smoothed until it was just the perfect height for Lake to sit and have me stand between her legs. And I finally made the decision.

I wouldn’t wait any longer to find Lake and bring her home.

6

Lake

My agent did her best to chase me down the studio lot. June McPherson was a powerhouse, barely five-foot-four in her highest heels, but she couldn’t compete with my trusty old Converse. I slowed to let her catch up.

“You’re making a mistake,” she panted, doubled over to catch her breath. “Just like running in these shoes was.”

I looked down at her. “I told you my plan before we entered the meeting.”

“And I told you the producers would throw more money at you. I thought once we got in there, you’d cave, not turn it down.” She squinted up at me, hand on her side, then rose to her full height. “The salary wasn’t life changing, I admit, but you can still do lots with it. And the real money comes later.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out her compact as she added, “You’d be able to find homes for all those scrappy dogs and cats you’re always talking about.”

Thinking I could raise awareness was partly how I’d gotten into this mess. I’d been able to work the animal shelter into my “storyline” on the reality show, and get photographed there by the press, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to stay beyond my contractual obligation. “I’ll find other ways to help,” I said.

“You’re sure?” She checked that no strands had come loose from her sleek ponytail, then snapped the mirror shut. “You’re really going to let something like job satisfaction get in the way of fame?”

She was teasing, but I knew this wasn’t easy for her to joke about. I was becoming one of her most sought-after clients, and I was about to flush it down the toilet. Or I already had. “I’m sorry, June. I’m just not cut out for reality TV.”