Fallen Stars (Stone Bay Series Book 3)

Chapter 13

I exitmy car and weave through the lot toward the entrance of Gigi’s Italian. The light balm from the bay mingles with the sound of classic Italian music. Clusters of people linger near the door as they wait for an open table.

Earlier today, Abigail sent a text suggesting we go out tonight. Though it’s difficult to tell through nonverbal communication, the tone of her text came across as somewhat frantic. When I asked if everything was okay, she said her parents were asking about us more often. Then she said she told her parents we had a date at Gigi’s tonight.

Everyone with the last name Calhoun is all smiles at the news. Me, on the other hand, not so much.

It’s bad enough I suggested this whole fake dating bullshit in the first place. Gaining a friend out of the situation? Not so bad. But now, said friend is making plans for us and telling others without consulting me first… unacceptable.

My father has made it his mission to govern my life and mold me into someone I am not nor will be. Over the past month or so, Abigail seems to have joined forces with my father and is tossing out manipulation tactics like Halloween candy. I will not tolerate either of them.

As I near the host stand, Abigail spots me and gives me her brightest smile. A voice in the back of my mind tells me not to trust that smile.

“Finally, you’re here.” Her whole body comes to life as she steps closer and rests a hand on my forearm. “I’ll let the host know.”

Confusion mars my brow as I watch her talk with the host. The voice in the back of my head speaks louder and tells me to leave. That something isn’t right.

She touched me.

None of our family is here. No one we need to flaunt our lies in front of is present.

So why did she touch me with a level of intimacy we don’t share?

Lost in my head, I miss her return. I fail to pull away before she hooks her arm with mine and gives a gentle tug.

“Our table’s ready.”

Mildly bewildered, I nod and let her lead us to where the host waits. As we move through the restaurant, it feels as though every set of eyes is on us. Judging us together a beat before they whisper to their tablemate.

With as much finesse as possible, I ease my arm free of Abigail. When we reach the table, I let her choose her seat first, then sit opposite her with my chair farther than normal from the table. I tuck my feet under my chair and lean back in my seat, maintaining my personal space.

I open my mouth to ask her if something happened between her text and now, but the server sidles up to the table.

After a thorough rundown of the chef’s specials tonight, they ask for our drink orders. Abigail taps her lips for a moment, then chooses a local red wine. I almost order the same, but stop myself. A twinge in my gut tells me to keep a clear head. So, I order a sparkling water. Abigail’s pout at my order amplifies the pang, and I don’t fucking like it.

Ignoring the menu, I study her as she reads hers. Less notable now, her smile never fades. If she’s happy, that’s great. But the longer I stare at her, the more I feel it isn’t general happiness that has her so gleeful.

“What’s up with you?” I blurt out the question, not caring how it comes across.

Her entire expression scrunches to the middle of her face for a split second. Then that damn smile returns.

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

I tilt my head, narrow my eyes, and scrutinize her. From her expression and attitude to her attire and the way she looks at me, I evaluate every inch of her.

In a short, cream-colored dress with thin straps and a low V over her breasts, she has more skin than ever on display. Sitting tall in her chair, she leans in my direction slightly. A subtle smile tips up the corners of her faintly parted lips.

My stomach cramps the longer I study her. The voice in the back of my head more or less yelling at me to get out now.

With a gentle shake of my head, I inhale a deep breath, count to five, and exhale.

“Everything good with Desmond?”

Lifting her menu, she drops her gaze and swallows. “Not sure. We broke up.”

Shit. Now I feel like an asshole.

No one feels great after a breakup. She’s probably masking her pain with artificial joy. And here I am, giving her a hard time. I should be consoling her. I should be the friend that asks what they can do to make it better. Hell, her breakup is probably part of the reason she wanted to go out tonight.

“Sorry to hear.” And I genuinely mean it. “He seemed like a good guy. Goes to show appearances aren’t everything.”

Before she responds, the server returns with our drinks and takes our dinner orders.

Once the server leaves, silence is an encapsulating bubble around our table. I remain tight-lipped and give her a moment to gather her thoughts. To tell me why she and Desmond are no longer a couple. I picture countless scenarios, but nothing sticks. I didn’t know Desmond well. But the last I saw them both together, they appeared genuinely happy as a couple.

“I broke up with him,” she finally admits.

Of all the reasons I anticipated hearing from her, I didn’t expect her to say it was her who broke up with him.

“Why?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she picks up her glass and sips her wine. “Felt like the right thing to do.”

All I know of their relationship is what Abigail has shared, which isn’t much. But in the past month and a half, I’ve heard only wonderful things about him. She spoke of a future with him. Marriage and children and being with someone she loved.

I lean forward and rest an arm on the table as I try to make sense of her news. The more I think about it, the more confused I become.

“Did he cheat on you?”

If that’s the case, I may need to pay a visit to his work and give him a piece of my mind.

Her brows furrow as she shakes her head. “No.”

No? Then what? What did Desmond do that would make Abigail not want to be with him anymore?

And then she reaches across the table, sets her hand over mine, and curls her fingers slightly. Her expression softens as she stares at me across the table.

The nagging voice in my head screams and the spasm in my midsection explodes into nausea-inducing pain. I jerk my hand away from hers and push back in my chair.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“It doesn’t feel right to be with Desmond when I no longer feel the same for him.”

I ball my fingers into fists in my lap. Breathe heavily through my nostrils. Do my best not to cause a scene in the middle of the restaurant.

Abigail rolls her lips between her teeth. “Not when I want to be with someone else.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as my molars gnash together. Anger bubbles from each of my pores and radiates around me like a venomous cloud.

“I mean, our families already think we’re dating. It’d be easy to not pretend,” she prattles on.

“No,” I bark out louder than expected.

She flinches, then lifts her hand from the table in a gesture for me to hear her out. “We like each other.”

“Not like that,” I insert before she says anything else.

“But—”

“No.” I shove my chair back farther and rise. “That’s not what this is, was…” I wave a hand in the air. “When I suggested this, it wasn’t because I actually wanted to be… anything to you. It was to shut my damn father up.” I pull out my wallet, grab a couple twenties, and drop them on the table. “I didn’t want it to begin with. Now…” I pocket my wallet. “This is over. We’re done. No friendship. Nothing.” One step, then another, I walk away. “Fuck off and lose my number.”

Several patrons glance my way as I head for the exit. Not that I give a fuck.

When I step outside, my anger fizzles out and the additional weight I’ve carried for weeks falls away.

The facade is no more. The days of selling my soul to appease my father have come to an end.

In my car, I take out my phone and send Oliver a text.

Hang out?

I crank the engine to life and wait for him to reply. When several minutes pass without a word, I go to his social media page and check the band’s schedule. On the pinned post, it says Hailey’s Fire is playing in Smoky Creek tonight.

I tap the link for the band’s social media profile and open their live stream. My eyes shamelessly roam over Oliver as he plays. Not much sweat dampens his shirt, which means they haven’t been playing long.

Closing the app, I stow my phone and buckle my seat belt. Within seconds, I exit the parking lot and make my way to Opal Trail. The moment I reach the outskirts of town, I shift gears and smash the accelerator. The world passes in a blur of occasional streetlights in the fading sunlight.

I reach Smoky Creek in less than half the time it’d take anyone else. Perks of a fast car on quiet roads.

Easing off the accelerator as I enter town limits, I scan the storefronts for Brickton and Sons Tavern.

I drive by countless shops, restaurants, offices, and standard businesses you’d find in most towns. I pass the occasional person or couple, but for a Friday night, not many people milling about. Smoky Creek is small, like Stone Bay, but there doesn’t seem to be much life to it.

The first true signs of life emerge a couple miles into Smoky Creek. Endless cars fill the street parking along the main road. The farther I drive, the more cars and people I come across. Minutes later, I arrive at the town’s hotspot for the night.

Brickton and Sons Tavern.

Either this is the place to be on weekend nights, or most of the town fills the bar to see Hailey’s Fire play. Less than a quarter of Stone Bay visits Dalton’s when Oliver’s band is on stage. If this crowd is for them…

Warmth fills my chest as I search for a parking spot on the street. Pride and adoration and this prickle of something desirable yet foreign surge in my bloodstream.

Half a mile later, I cut the engine, exit the car, and wander down the sidewalk. Hands in my pockets, I focus on the throng of townsfolk near the bar. Just before the tavern comes into view, the music hits my ears. A smile instantly curves the corners of my mouth and I pick up my pace.

Weaving through the overcrowded tavern, I make it to the bar and order a drink. Frosty glass in hand, I slip between people until I near the makeshift stage at the back wall. I move off to the side, away from the thick of the crowd, and hover in the periphery with my eyes glued to Oliver.

“You’ve been fucking incredible, Smoky Creek,” Hailey says when the song ends.

Whistles and cheers and excited expletives ricochet off the walls at a deafening volume.

“We’re slowing it down for our last song.” Hailey presses a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone in Stone Bay, but this is the first time we’ve played ‘Fallen Stars’ in public.”

She lifts her guitar strap over her head and swaps it for an acoustic on the side of the stage. Oliver rises from his stool behind the drums, runs a hand through his hair, wipes it on his shorts, then picks up the other acoustic guitar. He grabs a barstool, sets it in front of Trip’s microphone near Hailey, then takes a seat.

I sift through countless memories of watching the band play in Oliver’s garage. I search for a time when the two of them played acoustic together. But I come up blank. The title of the song doesn’t ring a bell either.

As long as I’ve known Oliver, he has played the guitar as well as the drums. But not once, to my recollection, has he played guitar during show nights.

I down the last of my drink as the first chords of the song fill the air. While Hailey drops her head and focuses on the tune, Oliver leans closer to the microphone and closes his eyes.

“It’s always been us, a sea of blue and green.” A few notes fill the air. “Our silent conversations and blurry fragments of a dream.”

As Oliver plucks the strings of his guitar, I swallow and inch closer to the stage.

“Just out of reach, I wanted to take your hand. But it wasn’t my place to touch you. Not like that.”

Perspiration dampens my skin as I listen to Oliver croon lyrics to hundreds of Smoky Creek residents. Lyrics I know, without a doubt, are about us.

“So I stood by your side with a cheek-burning smile. I played the goof, the fool, while I died a little inside.”

The more he sings, the harder my heart pounds in my chest.

“From the start, all I wanted was you. From the start, little did I know you wanted me too.”

The backs of my eyes sting as my throat clogs with emotion.

“In the shadows, we hide. Tall trees, scraped knees, stars falling in the night.”

A cramp flares to life beneath my diaphragm as guilt gnaws at my soul.

“But I’d live forever in the dark to keep you at my side. My best-kept secret. My reason. My life.”

My fingers drum on my thighs as I wait for the song to end. Every cell in my body aches for him. To go to him. To touch him. To kiss him.

“From the start, all I wanted was you. From the start, you wanted me too.”

Like the rest of the crowd, I’m stunned silent and can’t take my eyes off Oliver.

“Forever mine… until every star falls from the sky.” The song starts to fade as Oliver whispers the last lyrics into the mic. “Until every star falls. Every star falls. Every star falls.” He inhales deeply. “Until I fall.”

Hailey and Oliver stop playing and a heavy silence hangs in the air. No one breathes or speaks or moves for a solid seven seconds. Everyone stares at the duo on stage, awestruck and emotional.

And then, it’s as though the volume gets turned back on. The crowd cheers louder than before. Hoots and hollers and fuck yeahs boom throughout the tavern.

Wide smiles on their faces, the band takes a bow a beat before Hailey throws devil’s horns to the crowd.

“Thanks for being fucking awesome, Smoky Creek. We fucking love you,” Hailey bellows into the mic.

As the raucous cheer from the patrons settles and the overhead music kicks on, the band gives one last wave and turns to exit the stage.

My knee bounces as I wait for Oliver to look up. For his eyes to lock with mine. Seconds feel like hours as my pulse whooshes loudly beneath my ears. As I all but silently beg for him to meet my eager gaze.

And the second he steps off the stage and sees me, feet away, all the air gets sucked from the room. He freezes and narrows his eyes as if I’m a figment of his imagination.

My heart hammers painfully as my rig cage constricts my lungs.

He inches closer but keeps his distance. His eyes continue to roam my face, still uncertain I’m actually here. That I drove to his out-of-town show to see him.

Those vacant feet between us make me twitchy. Anxious. Unsettled. Small as it is, I hate that there’s a shred of distance between us right now, especially after that song. All I want to do is step into his space, frame his face with my hands, and crush his lips with mine.

Rather than resist what I want, for the first time in my life, I follow through. I give into what I want, what I feel, what we both feel.

In two long strides, I’m toe to toe with Oliver. His eyes widen as his chest visibly rises and falls. Lips slightly parted, his breath dances over my skin.

“Hey—”

I cut him off as my hands cup his cheeks and my lips claim his. Oliver flinches, but I don’t relent. When I lick the seam of his lips with my tongue, every muscle in his body softens.

And then his hands are on my hips, fisting my body with bruising force. He hauls me into him, his dick hardening in his shorts as he deepens the kiss. As moans spill from his mouth and mingle with mine.

The noise, the people, the bar… all of it disappears as I give into desire. As I allow myself to be truly selfish for the first time.

Oliver breaks the kiss. “What?—”

I lean into him and take his mouth again. Desperate and greedy and insatiable.

He returns the kiss, his hands skating up my sides until they frame my face. He breaks the kiss again, soft laughter dancing between us.

“I’ll kiss you all night if that’s what you want.” He drops a chaste kiss on my lips. “But I need a momentary break.” The corners of his mouth twitch as he fights a smile and fails. “Maybe a little hydration.”

I inch back. “Shit.” My brows tug together. “Sorry.”

He laughs harder while his thumbs stroke my cheeks. With a subtle shake of his head, he says, “Never apologize for kissing me.” He drops his forehead to mine. “Ever.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and give an infinitesimal nod. “Yeah.” I open my eyes and reluctantly pull back. “Alright.”

The world around us comes back into focus, but I refuse to look anywhere except at Oliver.

We join Trip and Hailey at a table off to the side. Food and drinks get ordered as we shoot the shit and townies stop by the table to sing their praises. As the hours pass, the crowd thins to what is a typical night at Dalton’s.

The entire time, Oliver doesn’t take his hand off my thigh beneath the table.

When our plates empty and we drain the last of our drinks, Oliver leans into my side, his breath warm on my ear. “Want to get out of here?” He inches back until our gazes lock.

Silly fucking question. I’ve wanted to leave with him since I kissed him.

Not wanting to appear overeager, I give a subtle nod. “Yeah. Don’t you need to pack up?” I jerk my chin toward the stage.

“Owner said we could come back in the morning.” He shrugs. “I have a room booked at the inn.”

Those words are an instant shot of adrenaline and lust in my veins, but I try to not let it show. “With Trip and Hailey?”

Please say no.

Throaty laughter fills the air as Oliver covers his mouth with a loose fist. “Uh, no.” He shakes his head for emphasis. “It’s nothing personal. Just not in the mood to listen to and watch them fuck for hours.”

I choke on my own breath, and it only serves to make Oliver laugh harder.

“Jesus, Ollie.”

“What?” He rolls his eyes. “Just telling it like it is.”

He rises from his stool and I immediately miss the contact of his hand on my thigh.

“Be right back. Going to close out our tab.”

Before I’m able to hand over cash for my part, he’s halfway to the bar. For a moment, he chats with the bartender and I ogle the brilliant smile on his beautiful face.

The day started with stress and darkness. It almost ended in a similar fashion.

But I’m tired of hiding a part of myself. A very large part of my identity. It’s time to embrace who I am. It’s time to walk through the world as myself. My true self. Not all at once. I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for that. But tonight helped. Being around people who don’t know me, who don’t have set expectations of me… it’s a start.

So long as I have Oliver, I don’t fear what happens next.

“Ready?” he asks as he approaches the table.

More than ever.

I slip off my stool. “Ready.”

Oliver waves to Hailey and Trip. “Bartender said after ten tomorrow morning.”

“Cool.” Trip sips his beer. “Night.”

“Night.” Oliver waves.

Our stride is casual as we exit the tavern and walk down the street for my car. But there is no mistaking the exquisite tension building between us. Each step we take is a step closer to a fantasy I’ve jacked off to countless times over the years.

As the engine warms, Oliver indicates where the inn is. When I put the car in gear and drive down the street, he reaches across the console, lays his hand on my upper thigh, and gently massages the muscles inches from my groin.

Less than five minutes later, I park the car in front of his room at the inn.

Dick hard as steel, I inhale a stuttered breath and turn to look at Oliver. An expression I’ve never seen on him etches his features. Undiluted need. Ache. Lust.

And when my gaze trails down his body, I see exactly how much he wants me right now.

Without a word, I unbuckle my seat belt, exit the car, and wait for him to do the same. In six lengthy strides, we stand outside the door as he fumbles for the key card.

The second we slip inside, everything changes.