A Thousand Glittering Lights

Chapter 22

There was darkness.And there was Ellie.

He knew her. He knew her voice. Could hear the tension and the tiredness threaded through her tone. He could hear her working. And working. And working. But he couldn’t get back to her.

What if she was alone in the house when the intruder came back? What if a stranger was there now, while Josh was trapped somewhere far away? Unable to help. Unable to reach her.

Had he already used all the time he had with her?

The thought filled him with dread. But as much as he railed and fought, he always slipped back into the mist.

Sometimes the mist parted, forcing him back to the cold, bright place. He hated it there. It was worse than the darkness.

The white lights brought the pain. His head hurt. And his mouth was so dry. His lips cracked, bleeding when he tried—failed—to speak. There was something foreign in his nose, in his throat, but he couldn’t move it. He was trapped.

Sometimes a familiar voice spoke from beyond the lights. Sometimes it whined. Sometimes demanded. It was a male voice. A voice he knew well. And then the voice said, “Fuck, Josh. I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to be like this—” And threw him into a memory.

They were boys. Josh was sixteen, Liam was twelve. Their father was long gone. Their mother worked two jobs, sometimes three. She looked so tired. Sometimes it seemed that only her grit held her together.

She was cleaning a house that day. Josh had gone out to grab some pasta, cheese, and a few wilted vegetables on special at the corner supermarket. He was hungry all the time. But he’d managed to get a part-time job in the local pet store, and he’d just seen his first paycheck hit his account. He wanted to celebrate. And if there was something hot to eat when his mother came home, they could sit together and enjoy it. Maybe they could watch something on the telly. She always helped him with his homework, even when it was late. She always came to say goodnight and listened to his day. But they seldom just sat.

But when he got back to the flat, his brother was gone. Liam hadn’t stayed sitting at the small kitchen table doing the math problems Josh had left him, and, infuriatingly, Josh knew exactly where he was. Liam had wanted to play football with friends down at the park. He’d refused to listen to Josh’s reasoning that it was nearly dark. That the park was strewn with litter and broken glass on a good day. And that the friends he wanted to meet could make trouble out of air.

Josh dumped the groceries on the faded vinyl counter, pulled his coat back on, and stalked back into the night, mumbling curses. Liam always thought he had a hard life. Always wanted to complain. But he never wanted to do his share of the work. And it didn’t help that he was so bloody good-looking. That everyone had always wanted to help the angelic baby with dark curls and blue eyes… even when Liam was a moody preteen and as far from angelic as it was humanly possible to get.

When Josh found him, it was even worse than he’d imagined. Liam—eyes red and face streaked with dirt—was kicking his foot next to a pair of police officers and an enraged motorist. Football had devolved into throwing rocks, and one had hit a passing Mercedes.

The other boys had run, but Liam, for all his faults, always stayed. He’d taken responsibility. And he’d looked up at Josh, looking so young and afraid, and said, “Fuck, Josh. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t meant to be like this.”

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

Fuck.

The words churned in his gut, roiling and unsettled. They meant something. Something he knew was awful.

It was a relief when he slipped back into the darkness and the memories—and the words—slowly disappeared into shadow and confusion.

Time passed. And when he finally opened his eyes in Ellie’s room once more, the recollections of the bright place and the strange dreams he’d had there were nothing more than mist, slowly evaporating to nothing.

Her cottage was surrounded by the deep, turbulent darkness of late night and a storm lashing against the roof and walls. Rain poured down the windows and gurgled in the gutters as the wind roared through the trees. And the house creaked as it took its beating.

Ellie was lying in her bed, on top of the covers, still wearing a T-shirt and yoga pants. Her legs were curled, but one hand was flung out. As if she’d collapsed, too tired to drag blankets over her body, and fallen asleep still reaching for something she couldn’t quite grasp.

She looked cold. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and bruised, even in sleep. He crept closer and risked smoothing a lock of honey-colored hair out of her eyes. She didn’t even stir.

God, he’d missed her.

A visceral wave of relief flooded him. She was safe. She hadn’t been hurt while he was gone.

In his job—in his life, he suspected—he didn’t show emotions. Fear, vulnerability, grief, even hope… they all had to be locked away. He always had to be detached. A little removed. Unbiased. Unemotional. He couldn’t let himself get close to an animal that could easily die, and, even if it lived, would soon be gone. His heart could not be allowed to break every time he had a patient on his table, or he would break too.

But standing there, Ellie’s silky hair sliding through his fingers, he couldn’t deny the truth. He liked her. Far more than he should. He was afraid for her. He needed her. He was not detached.

It was the exact opposite of the one moment he’d promised himself.

He couldn’t offer her anything at all. He didn’t know enough of who he was. He couldn’t remember most of his life, let alone share it with her. Soon, their time would be over. He couldn’t even promise that, when he left for the last time, he would get the chance to say goodbye.

If he was being rational, he would let her go now before he sank any deeper. He would slip away, back into the darkness or out into the storm, before she meant even more to him. Before he meant more to her, too. Because, however he might try to deny it, he knew their bond went both ways.

If he was sensible, he would wake her, tell her about the intruder, make sure she was safe, and then say goodbye.

But he couldn’t do it.

Her passion. Her bravery. Her curiosity and joy. He needed more of it.

And did it really have to end badly? Was it inevitable? Maybe there was a way to figure out why he was there. Maybe there was a way for him to stay for a few days or even weeks.

Ellie never gave up, even when she was afraid. Didn’t he owe her the same conviction?

He slipped away and searched through her hall closets until he found a blanket. Then he pulled off his boots and slid onto the bed beside her, throwing the blanket over them both, and closed his eyes.

Beside her, he could drift in warmth. In the scent of her skin, the vanilla and jasmine of her soap. Listening to her small sighs and light snuffles.

She shuffled back in her sleep, fitting herself against his body—her back to his chest—and he wrapped himself around her gladly, safe in their cocoon as the storm raged outside. He didn’t sleep. He wanted to have this time holding her, being with her.

She woke before dawn, and he felt the change in her. The tension returning to her body along with awareness. He spoke before she could startle, whispering her name. And she turned to face him over her shoulder, blinking slowly.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice rough with sleep. “You came back. I didn’t think—” She shook her head, a slight movement against his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I’m sorry. I would have come back if I could.” He pressed a kiss onto her shoulder. “How long was I gone?”

“Three days.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and he could feel the weight of those days pressing down on her.

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, wishing he didn’t have to say anything. Wishing he didn’t have to add to the burdens she already carried. “Ellie, before I… left. There was someone in your house.”

She nestled into him, her back pressed even tighter against his front. “I know,” she murmured. “I saw him. He was trying to break through my firewall. I think he was going after the game.”

She’d told him before about the IP stored on her system. Using Ellie’s personal computer to get to it would be a lot easier. But… “That means he knows you.” Fuck. “He targeted you specifically.”

She hummed her agreement. “I think so too.” She swallowed heavily. “I think he knew I’d gone to London. I think he must have been watching my house somehow.”

“Why?” He couldn’t keep the outrage out of his voice. Ellie loved her game. She’d worked so hard, for so long, and now someone was trying to take it from her. And the thought of someone watching her… Fuck. “What would he do with it?”

“Sell it to our competitors, launch his own version earlier… maybe even blackmail us to have our IP returned. I don’t know.” Ellie dragged her hand across her eyes. “I’ve been trying to figure out how best to find him, but where do you even start? I thought maybe some kind of eye scanning, optical recognition. But that means hacking the Home Office, and, well, I don’t want to go to jail.” She huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “And to be honest, hacking is harder than it sounds.”

“What does that mean?” Hell. He really hoped it wasn’t how it sounded.

She turned further, facing him more fully. “I tried to figure it out. But there are no YouTube videos telling you how to break into government databases, can you believe it? Even ChatGPT gave me some useless answer about how it was sorry, but it couldn’t assist. Bloody AI.” She wrinkled her nose, ignoring the look he gave her. “I decided a better idea would be to look at traffic cam footage… did you know you can put in a request for copies of the videos? But it means driving around, looking for the cameras, figuring out who owns them and then trying to contact them. It’s taking hours… and I don’t have that many in a day—especially since I have a company to run first, so I’m doing all of that after close of business.”

“How is that going?” he asked gently, hoping Vic had done the right thing, but doubting it at the same time.

“It’s been tough,” Ellie admitted. “I spent most of the day in London yesterday. I had my usual Thursday managers meeting, extra time with Duane, and a review with HR and our security team, which was exactly as much fun as you could image.” She yawned tiredly. “The one good thing is I spoke with Max at Silver Wolff, and formally declined the sale.”

That was huge. He knew just how hard that step was, and how much it had meant for her to take it. “I’m so proud of you, Ellie.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. But then her voice fell, and her expression grew more sorrowful, and he knew there was more. He held her tight until she was ready to share the rest, and, voice breaking, she told him what had happened with Victoria. All the things Vic had said and how she’d had to take the horrible decision to lock her friend out of the company. How she’d expected a massive fight—but Vic had walked away and not come back.

Ellie had promoted Duane who’d stepped up massively, but it was still a load of extra work on both their shoulders. And, at the same time, she was single-handedly trying to solve both the hit-and-run that landed her in hospital and the break-in that threatened all her work. All while worrying about her friend. And him.

Had he ever felt so helpless? God, he hoped not.

And it got worse. He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to open the door. But he had to tell her. “The man that broke into your house; I’ve seen him before. I felt… Ellie, I think I know him. I made it into the room with him before I faded. I recognized him from somewhere. But—” He let out a harsh breath. “—I don’t remember where.”

“Okay.” She nodded slowly, her quick brain working through what he’d said and, by the look on her face, coming to the same conclusion he had. The knowledge that Josh had recognized her intruder didn’t help them at all. Not when he didn’t know who he was.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wishing he could do more. Wishing he could pull the blanket completely over their heads and hide her away in a warm, safe cocoon. “I wish I could fix it for you,” he said against her skin.

She tilted her chin to look at him, her eyes full of kindness. “I wish the same. That I could fix everything for you, too.”

“And if we can’t fix this?” he asked quietly.

“We can,” she replied, and she sounded as if she believed it. Or as if she was determined to make herself believe. “I’ll just work harder. I’ll find a way.”

God, he wished that could be true—not that she would work harder; that was the last thing she needed—but that there was a way to make everything right. And that they would find it.

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, and then another to her temple, and then one over her eye. Down her cheek. The side of her mouth.

Maybe it couldn’t be fixed. Maybe nothing could. But for now, she was in his arms. She was warm and soft and full of life. They could live in this one moment. Make it last for as long as possible. And maybe, just maybe, they would find a way.

“Actually, I do have one piece of good news.” He smiled down at her. “I remembered that I’m an avian veterinarian—I work with birds of prey. In Scotland, I think.”

Her whole face lit up. “That’s wonderful!” She kissed him, matching the path he’d taken, kissing his eyes and cheeks. “That makes so much sense! And no wonder we haven’t found any missing persons reports for you. We’ve been looking in the wrong place.” The twinkle in her eyes dimmed. “But… why are you down here at the southern coast? It’s about as far as you can get from Scotland and still be in the UK.”

“I don’t know. But we’ll work it out. We’ll help each other.” Together. The idea should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t. It was right.

Josh ran his fingers down the side of Ellie’s face to settle lightly under her chin, tilting her up toward him, and then closed his mouth over hers. He’d been without her for too long. He needed to feel her. To know that she was with him.

Their tongues danced and played, teasing and tasting. And he could feel the tension slowly leaving her body as she met him stroke for stroke.

He skimmed his hand down her shoulder and under the blanket to drift down her waist and then back up her midriff, under her shirt, to brush the underside of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and they both sucked in a slow breath at the contact. She was so warm, so real. The scent of her soap surrounded him, her skin was smooth and soft, her hair floating around them both. It was like waking up and finding himself in heaven.

He spread his hand over her thigh, pulling her closer, settling her against his hard length, wishing his jeans were gone, that there was nothing between them.

She broke the kiss, pulling away for a moment to lift her T-shirt over her head—as if she’d heard his thought—and shimmied out of her panties and leggings.

He used the time to pull off his own clothes before dragging her back into the curl of his body. She giggled softly as he arranged her so that her skin was pressed against his—her back to his front, her bottom nestled against his aching cock, her neck open to his lips and tongue—and the soft laughter did something to him. Something profound. It was the first time he’d ever heard her sound so carefree. And it unlocked more than just his memories, it unlocked him. “You feel like magic. I want to touch you everywhere. Can I do that, Ellie?”

“Mm-hmm.” She lifted her hand to his thigh, dragging her nails over his skin, sending frissons of tingling awareness through his nerves. “Yes. All the touching.”

He lowered his head, kissing and nibbling along the slope of her shoulder even as he skimmed his hand higher, up to find her breasts, the puckered nipples and velvety skin. He circled lightly, moving between breasts, dragging his hand away and then returning, until she was arching her back, her breaths coming faster, her hips nudging back, driving him higher with every subtle motion.

“Ellie.” His voice was rough and strained. “Do you know what you do to me?” He bit her neck gently. “How do you make me feel like this?”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, and their eyes locked, a deep connection flowing between them. And then she kissed him. Their kiss was open, their bodies twisted, but her tongue found his in a teasing glide, while her body slowly sliding against his drove him even higher.

He closed his thumb and forefinger around her nipple, lightly pinching and tugging until she was squirming and panting into his mouth.

The room was hot, the air around them sultry, even as the storm still battered the house. The rain beat hard against the tiled roof, but nothing could reach them. His cock was nestled between her arse cheeks, her breast was in his hand, her mouth pressed to his. Nothing else was real. Nothing else could touch them.

He slid his hand over her body—dragging the blanket away to reveal her flushed skin—slowly exposing her beauty, stroking all the way down to her swollen clit. God. She was perfect. And already so wet. He slid his first two fingers either side of the heated nub, pinching lightly, gliding back and forth as he rubbed her.

She breathed hard, her body straining toward his, as she turned her face away, offering her neck.

He nuzzled into it, breathing in the scent of her skin. But then she whispered, “Can you see us, Josh? Can you see what you do to me?”

The low light of dawn through the storm was dim and gray, and it took him a moment to remember the huge mirror beside the bed. To lift his head and see their bodies, outlined in shadows, the silvery gleam of her skin and the tantalizing valleys of her curves revealed in the soft light.

He licked her neck, scraping his teeth along her tendon, still watching in the mirror. Her eyes never left his as she tilted her hips back, lifting her leg over his to open herself even further, making space for his heavy cock to slide forward, almost to her entrance. She surrounded him even as he surrounded her, and he had never shared anything so erotic.

They ground together, moving in an undulating, intoxicating dance of pleasure. He tapped her clit, then circled it in smooth spirals, and then rubbed slowly, finding the right rhythm, the perfect pressure. He could see every shudder in the mirror, feel every indrawn breath as she gasped out his name, and it was more powerful than magic.

She whimpered, her hips arching, searching. “Josh, I want more. I want to feel you. I want to see you sliding into me.”

He pulled his hand away and leaned over her, keeping his body pressed against hers as he grabbed a condom from her side table and rolled it on. And then he kissed her again. He needed her mouth. Needed that closeness. Even as he dropped his hand to her mound, dragging his fingers slowly through her tight curls, tugging lightly, his focus was on kissing her, breathing the air she breathed.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze in the mirror, and then he thrust forward slowly. Driving his cock back into that heated grip between her legs, nudging against her entrance.

She rolled against him, one of her hands sliding down between her legs to help position him. Her pelvis pressed back as she took him into her body, while her other hand found her breasts, tugging and teasing at her nipples.

It took everything he had not to lose control. Watching her hands moving between her legs and over her body while sliding his cock into her heat was almost too much. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathed against her neck.

He forced himself to thrust slowly and evenly, driving them higher, building pressure. And when she moved her hand up to grip the back of his neck, his fingers took their place; rubbing her clit at the same, constant speed. The speed that made her whimper, shuddering against him. And God, that sound. He would take it with him for the rest of his life. He would take it with him to his grave.

Ellie moaned, her body writhing against his. Her head fell back, mouth open, her inner muscles gripping him as he stroked into her.

The storm raged on. The gray light showed his body wrapped around hers, both of them climbing toward a shattering peak.

“More, Josh. God. Please. I—” She arched into him relentlessly. Until they were utterly locked together, every shuddering movement another step toward ecstasy. He gently tugged at her clitoral hood, pinching it between two fingers, and she screamed. Her walls clamped down on his cock as her body spasmed, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He thrust hard into the tightness of her body, a heavy, pounding rhythm, and she screamed again, taking him over the edge.

He emptied himself into the condom, exploding into her in a blinding climax. He lost his rhythm, lost any awareness, except of the pleasure blazing through him and Ellie gripped tight in his arms.

He held her long after their breathing had slowed, even as he softened and slipped from her body. He needed her body and her soul against his. And she must have sensed his need—or perhaps she felt the same—because she turned and draped herself over him, her head tucked under his chin, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, her heart beating hard against his.

He quickly removed the condom and then reached down to grab the blanket and pull it over them both, and they lay, hot and sweaty, but neither moving, neither wanting to break the connection between them.

Daylight spread through the room, and the storm slowly abated until just the rain tapped softly on the windows, but still, neither of them moved.

As if they both knew that every moment was precious.