When Stars Fall by Wendy Million

Chapter Forty-Two

Ellie

Present Day

The doctor finishes checking Haven and turns to me with a grimace. Her pen wags back and forth. “Hospital policy is to call the Children’s Aid Society whenever a child overdoses—intentional or otherwise.”

“Children’s Aid Society?” My brain isn’t functioning. Each breath Haven takes beside me is a gift, and I can’t tear myself away.

“It’s a child protection agency in Canada.”

“But it was an accident.” I stare at her, dumbfounded.

“Yes, but it still needs to be investigated.” She scans her clipboard. “Her father has a history with drugs. They’ll want to make sure she’s safe.”

“What did you say to me about Wyatt? Doctor . . . ?” I bristle.

“Boxton.”

“Watching TMZ and Entertainment Tonight doesn’t give you the right to judge him. This wasn’t his fault. He’s been clean and sober for almost three years.”

Maybe it is his fault, at least a little. Had he taken custody of Jamal, done the hard things earlier, we might not be here right now.

“You don’t know him.” I grasp Haven’s hand.

“Someone from CAS will be here soon. I wanted to make you aware.”

“Is Dad in trouble?”

I shake my head. Maybe we’re all in trouble, depending on what this agency decides. What’s already happened can’t be undone.

When Dr. Boxton reaches the door, she sidesteps Nikki and Wyatt. My heart pitter-patters in my chest at the sight of him. His broad shoulders, his dark messy hair, and his eyes, so haunted, twist my gut. The agony in his expression undoes me a hundred times. Any anger toward him seeps out of me. I can’t blame him, not even a little. Instead of waiting for him to come to me, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.

He draws me into a hug and squeezes me. His chin on the top of my head is soothing. “I’m so sorry,” Wyatt whispers. “Is Haven okay?”

I nod, but I can’t seem to find my voice. If I open my mouth, a sob might escape. Traumatic events and pregnancy don’t go together.

“How are you doing, Short Stuff?” Wyatt asks over me.

“I feel weird.”

Taking a step back from Wyatt, I keep my arm around his waist, and we go to Haven’s bedside.

“I shouldn’t have touched Aunt Anna’s things.” Her voice is little more than a whisper.

“Never touch Aunt Anna’s things.” Wyatt grips her small hand in his. “Ever again, okay? Aunt Anna has dangerous medicine.”

I haven’t had the courage or time to ask Haven how this happened. If Haven knew what she was doing, I’m not sure how I’ll cope. The doctor was too concerned about taking blood, getting a toxicology report, and so forth to ask many questions.

“You moved Anna’s things?” I ask. Wyatt brings a chair to her bedside.

She glances from me to her father. Her attempt to gauge how angry we’ll be is needless; I’m more concerned with the truth. And that she’s alive. I’m so grateful she’s alive.

“Are you going to be mad?” A worried frown creases her brow.

“Probably.” I brush a strand of hair off her forehead. “But you understand I love you, no matter what, always. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.” I choke out the last few words and tears trickle out again.

Wyatt tugs me into the chair beside him and keeps one hand clasped in mine while his other hand stays with Haven. “Sweetheart.” His voice is gentle. “We’re trying to figure out how we stop this from happening again. Okay?”

The answer is easy. Keep Anna away from our children, and that includes her own child. I stare at Wyatt and send a silent prayer to anyone listening that he never relapses. This Wyatt, holding my hand, guiding my daughter—my heart overflows with love for him. For the first time in a long time, clinging to him will get me out of this nightmare better than navigating this mess alone.

“I went to get my doll.” Haven sniffs and takes a deep breath. “But then I had to go to the bathroom.” She twists her hands together. “When I went in, there was stuff everywhere. Needles, pills, some powdery stuff. Mom doesn’t like a mess. I tried to clean everything. I wiped the powder off the counter into the garbage. Then I didn’t feel good.”

She had to pick this time to worry about a mess. Haven’s created lots of them with no concerns, and today she decides to be tidy.

“What’d you use to wipe the powder?” Wyatt’s voice is soothing, understanding.

Haven holds up her hands. “I shouldn’t have done that, right? Is that what happened?”

“No, you shouldn’t have done that,” Wyatt says.

Whatever she got into, he understands what it was. I’m afraid to ask. Ignorance might be bliss. “This makes sense to you?”

“With her hand?” Nikki pipes up from the other side of the bed. “This happened because she touched one of the drugs?”

“Unfortunately. Fentanyl is tricky.” Wyatt squeezes my fingers, and someone knocks on the door.

We all turn to see a brown-skinned woman with long dark hair standing on the threshold, clutching an oversize purse. She’s young, maybe younger than us. “I’m Priya Sidana.” She comes toward the hospital bed. “From the Children’s Aid Society. I was hoping to have a few moments alone with Haven to talk about what happened.”

“She can’t be questioned alone,” I say. “She’s nine.” I stand, and Wyatt does too.

Priya glances over her shoulder, and Dr. Boxton enters behind her. “Dr. Boxton can act as the other adult in the room. The conversation is confidential.”

Helplessness overwhelms me, and I check with Wyatt, needing some direction. We understand what happened, but I’m not sure how a stranger is going to interpret Haven’s accident. Neglect? Wyatt’s past might influence Priya. His drug use is the stuff of legends.

“I’ll speak to you after.” Priya gives us an encouraging smile.

Her sunny disposition isn’t helping to ease my fear. Women in her job can turn that attitude on and off like a faucet. I shadowed a child protection worker for a movie. When they’re called to a case, things can go downhill quickly.

“We’ll be in the waiting room.” Wyatt links his fingers with mine. He extends his arm to Nikki and draws her to his other side.

I take in their easy camaraderie, thankful they aren’t blaming each other. I’m not sure I could handle any animosity between them. Before we leave the room, I stare at Haven, so tiny and pale in the bed. Her overdose was an accident. Wyatt and I were working. This woman, this stranger, can’t fault us.

“It’ll be okay,” Wyatt whispers in my ear, and we head down the hall.

Nothing is okay right now. In the waiting room, we sit in a cloud of silence, the ticking clock above the door the only sound. Hearing that noise for any length of time will drive me insane. A dripping tap that can’t be switched off.

“I’m going to call Mom and Dad.” Nikki takes her phone out of her pocket. “Text me if you need me to come back right away.”

I squeeze her hand on the way past. Wyatt gives her a curt nod and takes gum out of his pocket. He throws two pieces in his mouth. A now-familiar coping mechanism, but for some reason the action makes my heart drop. The way he does it reminds me of when he used to take pills. He puts his hand on my leg and leans back in the chair. His relaxed attitude is a front; the gum gave him away. But if I didn’t know better, he’d appear unaffected.

Inside, I’m on the cusp of falling apart. We’re in Canada, for God’s sake. They can’t take our kid from us. We don’t even live here. “Why is it taking so long?”

“It’s only been ten minutes.” His eyes remain closed.

“Do you think she’ll take Haven?”

“No.”

“How can you be sure?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with people like Priya Sidana.” He cracks open one eye and then the other.

“Jamal?”

“And me and Anna when we were kids. They came knocking. My parents said the right things. Appeared to understand they screwed up. Promised to be better. A situation, one of many, where it helps to be famous.” He sandwiches my hand between his two bigger ones. “Trust me. I realize I’ve screwed up with Anna. This will never happen again.”

“I’m not blaming you.”

“You should. I do. If I’d done something more about Anna and Jamal, we might not be here.”

Earlier I’d had the same thought, but I’m not laying his sister’s choices at his feet. I run my free hand across his shoulders.

He kisses the back of my other hand, which is still clasped between his. “When I got to the trailer and saw Haven lying there, unconscious, my heart, Ellie. I thought it would fall out of my chest and die beside her. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Knock, knock,” Priya says from the doorway. We turn to look at her. “I have a few questions for both of you and then I think I’ll have everything I need.”

Wyatt wraps one arm around my waist, his other hand in mine. “Have at it,” he says.

Priya perches on one of the chairs across from us. The duct tape repairs on her plastic seat crunch as she settles. Scanning her notes, she then looks up at us, a nervous tilt to her mouth. Her pen is poised to start writing. “So, either of you can answer and then we’ll go from there, okay?”

We both nod. Wyatt does most of the talking. He’s never more charming than when he’s trying to get out of something. Even when the pile of trouble he stumbles into isn’t his, he has two methods of dealing with conflict: he’ll either brawl his way out or turn on his razzle-dazzle star power. Sitting beside him, I have a front-row seat; he’s at full wattage. He anticipates each question, an answer at the ready. He said he’s done this before with people like her, but I can’t help wondering how many times. None of the questions trip him. He’s smooth, confident, filled with the best answers. Was this how he learned to talk his way in or out of things? Was this his childhood?

“Well.” Priya stands. “I’m satisfied you understand what happened here today. Haven’s a very lucky girl. The outcome could have been much worse.” She stuffs her papers into her bag and then hesitates. “I wish you both a lot of luck sorting out your sister, Mr. Burgess. Seems like you’ve turned your life around.”

His grin is grave and bashful, as though her compliment means something. “Thank you, Priya. It’s been a pleasure talking to someone who understands the struggles and the path to wellness.”

Yeah, ’cause it’s such a pleasure to be on the cusp of being called a bad parent. Probably better he did most of the talking in the last half hour. I may have gotten surly.

When she swishes out the door, Wyatt embraces me, and my cheek rests on his chest. “Let’s go see Haven.”

“Thank you.” I stare up at him.

“Christ, Ellie. You don’t have to thank me. I’m the reason we’re here.”

“You’re not. I understand why you think that, but you’re not. We have to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. To any of the kids.”

He steps away from me and thrusts his hands in his pockets. The gum rattles around. He’s focused on something over my head, not meeting my eyes. “Are you sure about me, about us? I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Wyatt, I’m pregnant with your baby.” Although he doesn’t say it, our past hangs in the air between us. Being pregnant didn’t stop me the last time.

“No. I want to be with you. I want us to be a family.” Tears pool, blurring my vision. He tugs me to him again. “But I need us all to be safe.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, Ellie, and I’ll do it.”

And so I do.