When Stars Fall by Wendy Million

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ellie

Present Day

Wyatt’s heavy footfalls as he comes down the stairs wake me up. I straighten and run my hands through my hair.

At the entrance to the main living room, he takes me in. “You’re exhausted. And you weren’t well to begin with. I’m so sorry, Ellie.” When he reaches me, he scoops me into his arms and carries me into his room. He drags back the covers and slides me under as though I weigh nothing.

“Did you still want to talk?” He perches on the edge of the bed beside me.

“I need to talk to you.” I yawn. “About a lot of stuff.” My eyes are heavy, but I can’t fall asleep until we talk. “Are you sleeping here too?”

“I want to.” He scans my face before staring at the door. “I’m sorry about Anna.”

“How she behaves isn’t your fault. But I wish Haven hadn’t seen her like that. She had a lot of questions. I said you and I would answer them sometime tomorrow. I don’t have all the answers.” Remembering the evening wakes me up. Anna’s wild eyes. A chill slithers along my spine.

“Me neither. Jamal is such a great kid. I worry she’ll destroy him.”

There’s an opening, but I’m afraid to plunge in. This solution has been on my mind for weeks, but I wasn’t sure it was my place to suggest it. “What about getting custody? Giving him the stability and love he needs?”

“Anna loves him.” He clenches his hands together.

Her love is toxic, at least right now. Whatever she has to hit to turn her life around, she hasn’t hit it yet. Her son is paying the highest price.

Wyatt sighs and stands, taking off his shirt in one swift movement. His muscles ripple, and I long to run my hand down his chest. I want to hear the sound of his heart beating under my ear again.

Before he drops his pants, he raises his eyebrows in silent question. My sleep attire is the tiniest pair of shorts and a tank top. When I nod, he lets his pants drop to the floor with a sly grin. I can’t help smiling back, wishing things between us could be this easy all the time.

Once he’s in bed, his hand lands on my hip. I scooch backward a tiny fraction, and that’s enough of an invitation. He rolls onto his back and draws me into his body so my head can rest on his chest.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Ellie. Is it okay if I go first?” Wyatt’s voice rumbles through his chest. “You had something you wanted to say too?”

“Yes.” Given what we just saw with Anna, I’m even more nervous about telling him.

He takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, and then releases it. “I was drinking on the island.”

Surprise floods me, and relief chases it. Finally. “When? How much?” Twenty bottles.

“I’m going to trust you.” He kisses the top of my head. “God, I’m so worried you’re going to use this against me.” The words are murmured into my hair. Silence hangs in the room for a moment before Wyatt takes another deep breath. “Of the twenty bottles, I’m not sure how many I drank. Most of them went down the drain, then I ordered more and drank them. Whatever I drank, it wasn’t enough to be drunk.”

“When?” I slide my hand across his chest. My heart is beating erratically, but his is slow, steady. He’s telling the truth.

“The night I found out about Haven. The story wasn’t out yet. You dropped me off, and I was raging. So angry because you were keeping us apart, keeping something from me. The frustration was too much. Big emotions trigger me.”

“I came to see you that night when the story broke,” I whisper, thinking back to the room. If there’d been the sharp tang of alcohol on his breath or in the air, I’d have noticed. Or maybe not. Too much swirled in my brain, and if I should have noticed he’d been drinking, I didn’t.

“Yeah, you did. So you know I wasn’t drunk. Hell, Ellie, you didn’t even notice. The smell is why the balcony door was open.” He traces patterns on my back.

My mind ticks through this information. When Wyatt and I were together, alcohol went hand in hand with drugs. To me, they’re inseparable. “When you came to the island, you were hoping we’d get back together, right?”

“Yes.” He tenses under me, his hand stilling.

“Is that still what you want? After everything?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve wanted for years. That fight is the biggest regret of my life. I was too afraid to go after you. But I’m not afraid anymore. I’ll burn my life down to keep you and Haven.”

“Would you do an alcohol treatment program? The length doesn’t matter—thirty days, sixty days, whatever.” Maybe he’s fine and doesn’t need it. But maybe he’s still not being honest about his dependence. If we’re traveling this route together, I need to be sure. In the future, if I ask him to get help, I must be certain he’ll do it.

He tightens his grip on me and kisses the top of my head again. He’s still tracing idle patterns on my back in silence. Under my ear, his heart races.

“Wyatt?” I lift my head. A shot of anxiety goes through me that he won’t agree, and I’ll be back to where I was ten years ago.

“Okay, Ellie. I’ll readjust my schedule, and I’ll go.” He stares down at me and then he hauls me up his body, so our lips are mere inches apart. “What does this mean? Are you saying we can try again?”

“There are still some things to be worked out.” My practical side can’t give in just yet. “Anna, Jamal, where we’d live . . . They’re not small things.”

He rolls us so I’m pressed into the mattress with him above. “Sounds like a yes.” His lips dip into my neck.

“I haven’t told you what I need to tell you.” My voice shakes.

“What’s wrong?” He raises his head, his brow creased. “Isn’t this the part where we get to be happy?”

“I think, maybe, hopefully, really happy.” Deep breath, Ellie. “I’m pregnant.”

Wyatt, still above me, scans me for any sign of teasing. “You’re . . . pregnant?” His expression is tortured. “How do I ask this without sounding like a complete and utter asshole? Either way—I don’t care. We can figure it out. Okay?”

I laugh and raise myself off the pillow to place a quick kiss on his lips. “That’s very comforting. But the baby is yours. The baby could only be yours.”

His shoulders collapse, and he closes his eyes. “Oh, thank God.” His eyes pop back open. “Not that I wouldn’t have loved any child who was half of you.”

I giggle and bring his mouth to mine. “I thought you might be upset with me.”

He shakes his head, and he kisses me again. “Never. Never. Shit, I should have remembered protection too. I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry.” His hand eases between us to touch my stomach. “A baby?”

“A baby.” The joy I’ve been too afraid to experience surges through me. On top of that is a sense of relief. He’s getting help for his drinking, he’s open to talking about Anna’s situation, and he hasn’t freaked out about the pregnancy.

He slips a hand under my thin cotton tank top. He pushes the covers off us, and very gently, he kisses a line along the top of my shorts. “My child.” There’s so much reverence in his voice. Tears spring to my eyes.

“Wyatt.” I thread my fingers through his hair. We have to discuss what we’re doing about Anna.

As though something’s just occurred, he stills. “If you weren’t pregnant”—his lips whisper across my stomach—“would we still be trying again?”

I frame his face to force him to make eye contact. “You think the baby is the only reason I’m agreeing to try to have another relationship with you?” My thumb grazes his rough stubble.

“Who knows, Ellie? Even when I’m doing the right thing, it feels like the wrong thing.”

Many people have told Wyatt they loved him and then betrayed him. Given his job and his status in the industry, I saw this when we were together, and gained a mild distrust of everyone, just like he had. We never knew who was going to sell us out next. We clung to each other more times than we blew apart. Lifeboats in the chaos, tied to each other for safety.

Leaving LA and Wyatt meant I left most of the chaos behind, but Wyatt didn’t. He drifted on the currents of those stormy seas for years, abandoned. I’m amazed he survived. Looking at him now, I realize what I’ve denied for weeks, months . . . years. I love him. He won my heart years ago, maybe even that first night in the limo. I tried to give pieces of it to other people. Those fragments were never mine to give. When I left him, I got to keep half my heart, and I named that piece Haven, but the other half? He’s had it. It’s always been here, in his arms, in his eyes, in the light inside me when he’s around.

A familiar tide rises in my chest, the one I’ve been running from for ten years. There’s no more running. The swell pushes up, breaking the dam I constructed. I’m free, unguarded, whole.

“I love you, Wyatt. I’ve never stopped loving you. I knew if I saw you, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away. The reason I couldn’t see you wasn’t just because of Haven; it was me, too. I loved you too much to leave you again.”

The crease in Wyatt’s brow melts when he realizes my answer to “why now?” is to give him my heart, even though he’s had it all along. His lips meld with mine, deepening the kiss, seeking more. Our bodies are pressed so closely together I think I hear his heart beating. But it’s mine—wild, erratic, alive.

He works his way from my lips to my neck and then nips at my ear. He whispers, “I love you, Ellie. Forever. Always. Nothing’s ever coming between us again.”

I sigh, wrapping my arms around his back, and I let myself get swept away by the current of our love.