When Stars Fall by Wendy Million
Chapter Twenty-One
Ellie
Present Day
Haven’s laughter floats through the house as I drop my keys and purse on the island. Nikki, under protest, picked up Wyatt and Haven so they could do their kayaking and snorkeling right after school. She could also be a little more flexible in her stance toward Wyatt. She sees the risk in letting them get to know each other, and I’m starting to witness the reward.
I walk out to the back patio, which overlooks the black, rocky cliff and the route to the water. I can’t see any of them, so I wander the narrow path, careful not to slip on the wet stones. Someone’s walked this route a few times already. As soon as I emerge onto the beach and outcrop of rocks, Nikki, Wyatt, and Haven are visible in their snorkel gear. They’re treading water by the coral with their masks propped on their foreheads.
I put my hands on my hips. Wyatt is treading water. That’s a new skill. They haven’t noticed me yet. “Honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?”
Wyatt catches sight of me first, and his grin causes my heart to drum in my chest. He always used to look at me that way—as though I was the only person in the universe worth noticing.
“We’re pressing buttons,” Nikki yells back.
Our shorthand for ordering takeout. I check my watch. My session with the drama club students at the high school ran over. If kids have questions, I stay until they’re answered. Usually they’re about acting terms, ways to break in, or experiences I’ve had on movie sets. A lot of the curiosity centered on Wyatt today: his addictions, our film together, whether he’s truly better now . . . Exhausting and awkward. I don’t enjoy lying, but I’m protective of my privacy when secrets can be sold. None of them knew Wyatt was on the island, so Calshae and the hotel have done a good job there.
Haven’s bedtime is approaching. Someone needs to order dinner and that might as well be me. Before I can start up the hill again, Wyatt waves.
“Ellie!” His enthusiasm reminds me of Haven. “Watch!” He swims toward me in a ragged but improved front crawl. Treading water and now swimming better. What’d he do? Spend the day watching YouTube clips and teaching himself?
When he’s close enough to shore to get his feet under him, he stands, and the water rushes down his toned chest. I have a hard time making eye contact with the rest of the view on display.
When I land on his face, he’s grinning. “Impressive?” His eyes, almost the color of the shallow water, sparkle.
Impressive on so many levels. “What did you do today?”
“I learned to swim.” He puffs out his chest.
“You taught yourself?”
He chuckles. “Nope. I tried to convince Calshae to take me to your school. She stopped me from doing something stupid by teaching me to swim.”
“Calshae, huh?” My heart squeezes at the picture he’s painted. “She must be a hell of a teacher.”
“I’m that good?” His pleased grin widens, and he gestures over his shoulder. “Haven couldn’t get over how much better I was. And this eggbeater thing for treading water—man, so hard.”
Another soft laugh escapes me. The emotions running through me are jumbled together. “Calshae taught you eggbeater?”
“No, Haven did. I was sure I was going to die. But once you get the motion, it’s not so bad. Still stupidly hard, but better than drowning.”
The bitter and the sweet mix in me. We could have been a family for ten years if he’d gotten help. Haven would have had this relationship.
But he’s here now. He’s here.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I focus on the distant houses while I collect myself. I shouldn’t be crying over Haven teaching him the eggbeater or over one of my ex–best friends coming to my rescue.
Wyatt is now in front of me, and water trickles from his hair and along his body. “Ellie?” His voice is soft, curious. “Hey.” He rubs my arm.
Somehow, he’s come closer while I’ve been lost in thought. “Hey, Ellie. Are you okay? Did you have a rough day? Were those little shits at the high school mean to you?”
I choke out a laugh. A tear falls, and I wipe it away. “No, no. I’m okay. It was a good day.”
“You sure? I’ll go to that high school tomorrow and kick ass.” His voice is deep and brimming with the old caring I remember so well. “If someone’s hurt you, Ellie . . .”
We loved each other once, so much. Something on my face makes his brow furrow more. I take a deep, shuddering breath and shove my feelings down. We can’t go back, so we have to find a way forward.
“I’m okay, Wyatt.” This time there’s firmness behind my words. “I’ll order food, change, and come for a quick swim.”
His snorkel and mask are still clutched in one hand when I slip past him and along the walkway.
I take another bite of my curry and listen to Wyatt and Haven talk around me. I ordered Indian food in honor of Tanvi. If Wyatt still spends time with her, he probably gets to eat this all the time. But I love the reminder of Isaac, of Tanvi, of what once was.
“What do you think, Ellie?” Wyatt prods, drawing me into the conversation.
“Sorry.” I glance around the table. “I tuned out.”
Haven shakes her head. “M—” Her eyes widen at her almost-slip. “Man,” she says. “I’d get in trouble for that.”
She’s so comfortable around Wyatt now that I’m surprised she hasn’t slipped yet. Maybe she has and Wyatt didn’t realize it wasn’t a flub but a tell. I take one last bite of food and my chair scrapes against the tile when I stand up. I go into the kitchen without another word.
My plate is in the sink and I stare into the drain. Energy shifts in the room when Wyatt enters. His presence whispers to my soul.
“What’s going on?” Wyatt comes around me to set his plate on top of mine. “You haven’t been yourself since you got home tonight.”
Home. He used to be my home, and having him here in the home I built with our daughter is disorienting. I close my eyes. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Did something happen today?” He rests his side against the counter beside me.
“The kids asked a lot of questions about you. It was just . . . hard, I guess.”
“About me?”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when Wyatt Burgess goes on television and declares his undying love for someone. It blows up social media, tells people they should care. My life, my private life is worth caring about.”
I leave out the awkwardness of discussing suicide with teenagers. Also, drugs. Too many of those kids have watched YouTube videos of Wyatt in states no one would describe as sober. Nikki and I need to keep Haven off the computer, iPad, everything electronic for a while. It’s not just our relationship that’s trending.
“Ellie.”
“Can you leave me alone for a second? I need a minute.”
He sighs, but he sidles out of the kitchen without protest. I’m not alone for long. The soft patter of Nikki’s feet makes me turn. “What?” I ask sharply.
“Wyatt said you might need to talk to someone.” She holds up her hands.
“It was a shitty afternoon of answering questions about Wyatt’s more questionable choices. What am I doing even considering what I’m considering?”
Nikki steps closer and lowers her voice. “You mean Haven?”
“Yeah,” I say in a clipped tone. “What kind of role model is he?”
“She already knows. She’s known for a long time.” Nikki sighs. “Stopping her from seeing him isn’t going to change what’s done. At least if he’s around, she’s not trying to find him in other ways. I don’t necessarily disagree with him being part of her life. But you getting sucked back in? That terrifies me.”
“He seems different. A little more together.”
“Back then, I didn’t have a clue what was going on with you two. Except for what happened to Isaac, you kept things to yourself. When you left Wyatt and he started to become a social media whore, the scope of the drugs was unbelievable. There’s a difference between loving someone and taking care of them. Mom was right. If you’d stayed, you would have died.”
“I never worried about myself. Once Isaac died, I got off the drug and alcohol train. Haven is the reason I left, but I would’ve been fine.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“And neither can you.” I cross my arms. “You weren’t there. You don’t have any idea what our life was like. We loved each other. It wasn’t what you’ve seen. He wasn’t—he wasn’t exactly that person when we were together.”
“You were afraid to raise a kid in his environment. You left him. That says a lot.”
“And it’s still Haven I’m worried about. It’s not me. I’ll be fine. Whatever happens, I’ll be fine.”
“Haven is too aware to let this go. She’ll badger you for eternity to know him, to see him. You need to figure out how to allow that to happen without dragging yourself under. If he goes sideways, you need to be able to get yourself and her out.” Nikki stares out the window over the sink. “If it was our dad, how would you feel about Mom if she kept him from you?”
“I’d hate her.” There’s no hesitation in my response. “As a kid, I would have hated her. But as an adult, I would understand. A few days ago you were against me telling him at all.”
“I’ve had some conversations with Haven that made me realize my stance was naive. She is determined to know him.” Nikki rubs her forehead. “If you wait too long, it’ll be too late. He’s here. She knows. You never wanted her to wonder about her father, so you’ve been honest. That seemed like a good plan, but it complicates things.”
She has a point about trying to keep my feelings for Wyatt in check. It’s possible for him to have a relationship with Haven and for me not to be part of the equation. At least she’ll get her dad, and I’ll maintain the perspective I’ll need if he relapses.
“If you don’t tell him, you’ll lose Haven’s respect.” Nikki puts the lids back on some of the takeout containers on the counter. “She’s a dog with a bone when she gets an idea in her head. I’m surprised she hasn’t told him herself.”
Gathering my hair into a ponytail, I secure it with the elastic around my wrist. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I love you, Ellie. So much.” She turns to draw me into a hug.
“Can Haven stay with you tonight?”
“Are you going to tell him?” Nikki freezes for a beat before stepping back.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I have a couple more questions before I’m sure that now is the best time. You’re right, though. I need to do it.”
She leaves me to go into the living room, and I take a few deep breaths before following her. This feels like a plan. Tell him, but make sure he understands he can’t have me too. Assuming he even still wants me. There’s a chance he’ll never forgive me for keeping Haven a secret.
I enter the open dining and living room area and take in Wyatt and Haven playing cards at the kitchen table. “You’re not teaching her how to cheat at cards, are you?”
“Uh, that would be wrong, right?” Wyatt gives me a sheepish grin.
“Watch,” Haven says and then motions for Wyatt to pass her the cards. Haven does a complicated shuffle that shouldn’t be possible for a nine-year-old. Wyatt’s watching her with something that looks like pride. She deals the cards and then stares at Wyatt.
He’s teaching her how to play poker. Wonderful.
“Okay.” I make a throat-slitting gesture behind Haven’s back, directed at Wyatt. “That’s it for tonight.”
“We need to get going, Haven,” Nikki says.
Haven throws her cards into the center of the table and runs to hug me. I sweep her into an embrace and whisper the details in her ear. When she steps back, there’s protest written on her face. Nikki must cue her over my shoulder because, other than a frown, Haven doesn’t say anything.
Spinning on her heel, she races to Wyatt and throws herself at him. He catches her without missing a beat, as though they’ve been doing the move for years. He hoists her up in his arms and grins at her.
“Will I see you tomorrow, Short Stuff?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” Haven stays focused on him.
“W-e-e-e-l-l . . .” Wyatt drags out the word. “If not, I’ll miss you. But I’m happy I got a chance to meet you.”
“I hope I see you again really soon.” She puts her hand on the side of his face and stares at him.
“Me too, Short Stuff. Me too.” He sets her down, and she runs around the house collecting her things from after school. Wyatt watches her with amusement. “She’s a tiny tornado,” he says.
“That’s an excellent description.” Nikki’s smile is strained.
Haven hands Nikki her backpack and then tackles Wyatt one more time. He gives her another hug and then sets her on her feet. At the side entrance, I give my sister one last squeeze, a wordless thank you. Once they’re in the car, I close the door and lean against it, reluctant to venture into the living room to face Wyatt.
He wanders into the kitchen with the rest of the plates and dishes, but I can’t tear my focus from the floor. Without saying a word, he loads the dishwasher and begins tidying up.
“You don’t have any help?” Wyatt sticks the last dish in and closes it.
“No. Well, sometimes. If I’m having a party or function, I’ll get the place cleaned by someone else.” Dread is pooling in my stomach at the thought of what I’m about to do.
“You planning on staying here tonight?”
“Where else would I go?”
He tips his chin at the door I’m leaning against. “You seem pretty attached to the exit. I thought maybe you were considering an escape plan.”
With my hands, I push off and stand behind the island, keeping it between us. “Sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
“Have you been completely honest with me?” There was the phone conversation the other day. If I’m going to tell him, I need to be certain about everything.
“Did someone tell you I hadn’t been?”
Evasive. There must be something. My phone pings. When I take it out of my pocket, there’s a text from my ex-boyfriend Matt. Whatever he needs, I can’t deal with it now, and I switch off my phone.
“What aren’t you telling me, Wyatt? There’s something.”
“Do you want to sit in the living room?”
I follow him with my hands shoved into my pockets. With a ball of anxiety lodged in my stomach, I brace myself for the worst. He sits on the couch, and I choose the couch opposite him.
Wyatt takes a deep breath. “It’s about my sister, Anna.”
My immediate reaction is to roll my eyes, but I stifle it. If there was trouble anywhere, Anna found it. She was a constant thorn in my side during my relationship with Wyatt, but he treated her with kid gloves. Part of me understood, given their terrible childhood, but no one ever gave Anna any boundaries or limits. Whatever she wanted, Wyatt gave her.
“Three years ago, she turned up at one of the drug addiction workshops Tanvi runs. She had a baby. Jamal.”
Jamal. That was the name on the phone the other night.
“Anna and I lost touch when I moved out of the house we shared. Too many memories for me to stay there. Anna was constantly pawning her stuff to get money, and I guess the phone I messaged her on she didn’t have access to anymore. The point is, we weren’t in contact for a few years.”
That tells me a lot about how out of control their addictions got. The two of them were thick as thieves when I lived with Wyatt. A constant source of tension between me and him. For them to lose touch, they both had to be spiraling badly.
He runs his hand down his face. “When she showed up at the workshop, she told Tanvi she wanted to get clean, to raise her son in a better environment than the one we grew up with.”
Tanvi has a soft spot for Wyatt and his sister. She used to have one for me too. “Okay,” I say. “Does she live with Tanvi?”
“She lives with me.” Wyatt grimaces. “She and Jamal share the house in LA with me.”
“With you?”
“Which is why I wanted to spend at least some time in LA. Anna isn’t overly stable. Sometimes for long stretches while she dries out, I take Jamal. Give him as much consistency as I can.”
I try to process the new information and what’s becoming clear. “You’ve been clean for two years?”
“Yes.”
“For Jamal?” My mind goes to Haven. “How old is he?”
“He’s three. Anna couldn’t keep it together. She tried. She tries. Sobriety is too much sometimes.”
“Where’s the father?” My body is caught in waves of hot and cold. This conversation is surreal.
“Anna isn’t sure who his father is. She was too high to remember. But she was hanging around a lot with Aman and that crew.” He twists his hands in his lap and then takes out the stress ball.
I absorb this information. Wyatt’s been preoccupied with Haven’s lack of a father because he’s been a father figure for Jamal. He understands the parental connection on a deeper level. I stare at my hands. If I’d told him about Haven years ago, would he have gotten clean then too? I search his face. He’s brimming with sincerity. This story is true.
“One of us had to be stable. She couldn’t do it, so I did.”
The pieces of my heart that have been shattered for years start to slot themselves into place. I can trust him. I’m sure of it. If he got clean for Anna’s child, what would he do to keep his own? “Wyatt,” I say, “there’s something—”
His phone rings, and he removes it from his pocket. “It’s Anna. Shit. Sorry. Hold that thought. I’ve got to take this. Sorry. I’m so sorry.” Before I can say another word, he stands and walks toward the kitchen.
