Fallen Stars (Stone Bay Series Book 3)

Chapter 15

For the thirdtime in less than an hour, I close my eyes, inhale a slow, steadying breath, and let my mind drift to happier thoughts. Anything to quell the vicious churning in my stomach from the grotesque images and words on the computer screen.

Naturally, Oliver is at the heart of every blissful memory I own. He is the first thing I think about when I wake each day. Hell, he has been my first thought for several years. Only now, it feels different. Better. Perfect. Limitless.

Since the night of his show in Smoky Creek, since I kissed him in front of hundreds of people, erasing every single line between us, life feels more consequential. As if I unearthed buried treasure deep within myself. A new sense of meaning. Purpose. Not that I didn’t have either before. I did. I do.

But with Oliver in my arms, life is more transcendent and worthwhile.

For the first time in my life, I feel alive. Whole. Fully myself. Real.

Now, I need to figure out how to break the news to my family.

Fuck my life.

The saint that Oliver is, he’s waiting to share the news with his closest friends—Skylar, Kirsten, and Delilah. I didn’t ask this of him, but he granted me the courtesy anyway. He won’t openly talk about us as an official couple until I give him the go-ahead.

It’s not as though his closest friends aren’t aware.

Over the years, I’ve seen the way they side-eyed us when I joined their gatherings. I caught hints of their whispers whenever Oliver and I were close. But I kept those little tidbits to myself. Smiled at the idea of someone knowing that we were more than friends, even though we hadn’t owned as much yet.

Having people in our corner, cheering us on and loving us as we are, makes my rib cage constrict and nose sting. It’s a level of acceptance I’ve always craved but have never truly known.

Though it’s a pipedream, I hope my family will welcome the real me and my relationship with Oliver with open arms.

Inhaling a soul-cleansing breath, I turn my attention back to the screens hovering over my desk. Dissociate from reality and flip on the analyst part of my brain. Enter the darkest parts of the world with zero emotions.

I scan the various threads I have followed for weeks. Look for anything new or notable in the discussions. Read the cryptic messages and do my best to decipher them. To learn something, anything new about the growing list of missing persons in the region.

“Sick fucks,” I mutter as I skim a thread, the anonymous poster bragging about their recent conquest.

On another thread, a few highly disturbing images are posted. I save them and run them in a facial recognition program against the missing person profiles provided. In a matter of seconds, each image gets a hit on the list. I note them and add screenshots of the thread to our list.

As I read more on the thread with the images, I decipher and learn of a future auction. These people—children and adults—will be available to the highest bidder.

For hours and days and weeks, I have tried to find out more about this auction. When it will be held. Where they plan to sell humans as if they are inanimate objects. How the hell I can access it because it sure as hell isn’t promoted in any of the threads I’ve been on in the past eight weeks.

Knowing these pieces of shit, they have another dark, fucked-up place for the truly trusted customers.

“Knock, knock.”

I startle in my seat as Tymber enters my office.

“Sorry, man.” He winces when I meet his weary gaze. “I actually knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

Pushing back from my desk, I drag my fingers through my hair. “No need to apologize.” I suck in a ragged breath. “I detach from everything while working on this shit.”

“Find anything new?”

With a subtle nod, I turn back to the screens and pull up my latest discoveries. Tymber stands behind me and scans the screen as I pull up the images. I don’t miss his sharp, strangled inhale.

“Identified three. They’ll apparently be up for auction, but I don’t know when or where.”

“Fuck…”

“My thoughts exactly.” I shove away from my desk and spin around again. “Without seeming desperate, I’m trying to weasel my way in. But they have the auction site locked down. Someone probably needs to vouch for you to get in.” Doesn’t mean I will stop trying to gain access. Doesn’t mean I will give up on these people or their families.

Tymber sits in one of the guest chairs in my office, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his head in his hands. Frozen for minutes, we sit in silence and mull over how dark and fucked up this entire situation is. How we have taken on such a colossal job, unaware of how it would affect our lives forever.

I’ve read and seen some monstrous things. Gruesome and heinous things I’d love to permanently erase from my mind.

If only it were so easy.

After several hour-long minutes, Tymber straightens in his seat and levels me with his gaze. “I don’t want to give up.”

“Me either.”

“But I don’t know how much longer we should work this case.”

My brows pinch in the middle as my pulse picks up. Molars gnashing, I shake my head. “Fuck no, man.”

“Levi—”

“No,” I bark out, rising from my seat, agitated and fidgety. “I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know how much more I can handle.” Heat blooms in my chest as anger flares in my veins. “But I’m in too fucking deep to cower.” Eyes on him, I point to my screens. “All that shit…” My fingers ball into tight fists. “That’s surface level.” The backs of my eyes sting. “Imagine what those damn kids are going through. It’s only going to get worse.”

“Fuck. I know.” Tymber rises from the chair and paces the length of my office.

“If we give up, we might as well say they don’t fucking matter.”

Tymber covers his face with his hands and rubs his eyes. “I know,” he says, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“This is bigger than us, man.”

My mind drifts to Oliver, and I think about what it would feel like if I lost him. If he vanished without a trace. If he was one of the countless people missing in the area.

The sting behind my eyes grows tenfold as a relentless, breath-stealing pang expands beneath my sternum. My vision blurs as the nightmare plays out in my head. My breaths come in jagged bursts as my heart beats in stuttered th-thumps. An unfamiliar wave of dread pulls me under and suffocates me.

The room swirls around me as I try and fail to catch my breath. My pulse echoes in my ears in a deafening whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Inch by inch, the room darkens, shrinks, becomes an inescapable coffin. A chill settles in my bones as my limbs shake uncontrollably.

“Levi.”

Distantly, I hear my name as my body jerks back and forth.

“Levi, can you hear me?”

The voice is louder but still out of reach. Foggy. Indistinct.

Thwack.

I jerk back, stumbling as the room slowly comes back into focus. My hand goes to my cheek as a sharp sting blooms on my skin.

“Shit. Sorry.” Tymber winces as he studies my face. “I had to.”

“What?” I ask, confusion lacing my tone.

Tymber takes a tentative step in my direction. “You were having a panic attack.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Your skin was… gray.” He takes another step and ducks to meet my bewildered gaze. “Sorry I hit you, but you weren’t breathing.”

I rub my cheek. “Thanks.”

He scratches his beard and nods. “Yeah. Sure.” His hand drifts to the back of his neck and massages the muscles. “Let’s call it a day.” His hand falls to his side. “Start fresh in the morning.”

Part of me wants to argue with him. Tell him I have made progress and it is foolish to quit while I am ahead.

But then the rational part of my mind steps into the foreground and agrees with Tymber. I need the break. I need rest before I tackle more on this case. A clear head and a good meal. Time with Oliver to decompress and smile.

I hate it, but my sensible side is right.

“Probably best,” I mutter.

Tymber rests a hand on my shoulder and gives a firm, quick squeeze. “We’ll figure this out.”

Lips screwed up and shifting from left to right, again and again, I nod. “I really hope so, man.”

“We will.” His hand falls away as he steps back. “But only if we’re at our best.”

He’s right. I know he is. But fuck, it’s hard to stop looking. Painful as it is to see all this fucked-up shit, all I want to do is find these assholes. All I want is to find these missing people and return them to their loved ones.

I park behind Oliver’s Camry, cut the engine, and stare at the window on the second floor of the garage for a beat. Breath by breath, I force out the darker thoughts from earlier. Tell myself it’s just my mind creating false worst-case scenarios.

“Ollie’s safe,” I whisper as my eyes close. “He’s here, out of harm’s way and within reach.”

On a deep inhale, I open my eyes, swallow, and exit the car. One foot in front of the other, I climb the stairs to his apartment above the garage and key the code into the lock. After one last cleansing breath, I reach for the handle and twist.

As I enter his space, a faint melody from an acoustic guitar floats through the air, washes over me, and blankets me in immeasurable comfort. With a few simple notes played on his guitar, my worry from earlier fades away.

Eyes glued to his back as he sits hunched over his guitar, I close the door quietly. I shuffle into the apartment, toe off my shoes, and pad across the room. Focus on him, his music, the lyrics he croons to himself. Close my eyes and let his raspy voice stitch every fissure in my soul back together.

The room goes quiet and my eyes pop open. Oliver sets his guitar aside, leans forward, and scribbles in a journal on the table.

“Hey,” I say as I round the couch.

Oliver jolts in his seat. “Oh, shit.” He clutches his chest. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Sitting next to him on the couch, I eliminate every inch between us, frame his face with my hands, and press my lips to his. Kiss him as though it’s the first time and last all in one.

When his hands cup my cheeks, I deepen the kiss. Moan into his mouth and get lost in the feel of him. Let his warmth eviscerate the chill in my bones. Let the feel of his hands on my skin ground me to the earth, to the moment, to him.

All too soon, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on mine. His thumbs caress my cheeks as we breathe each other in.

“Everything okay?”

I press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Shitty day.”

He nods but doesn’t press for details.

“What was that song?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

When he doesn’t answer, I peek at him through my lashes. His eyes are still closed, the corners slightly crinkled with uncertainty.

My hands fall away from his face as I kiss my way to his ear. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious.”

Oliver inhales a shaky breath, inches back, and holds my blues with his brilliant greens. A faint blush colors his cheeks as he rolls his lips between his teeth. He swallows and opens his mouth to speak but then closes it.

The corners of my mouth tip up into a faint smile at his sudden self-consciousness. If he’s this hesitant to tell me, it can only mean one thing.

With a shake of his head, he rolls his eyes. “It’s about you,” he blurts. “The song.”

When he turned sheepish, I had a sneaking suspicion. “Okay.” I shrug and leave, revealing more is up to him.

He twists to face me on the couch and reaches for my shirt, gently fisting the material. “Sorry you had a shitty day.” He leans in and drops the barest of kisses to my lips. “How can I make it better?”

The corner of my mouth twitches at his request. Leaning forward, I press into him, rest my head on his shoulder, and clutch the cotton of his shirt. Breathe in his leather and musk scent with a hint of something distinctly Oliver. I melt into him and let the world disappear.

For now, it’s just him and me and nothing else. For this small blip in time, everything is perfect.

“You already made it better,” I mumble into the crook of his neck after several minutes. Straightening, I drop another kiss on his lips. “Hungry?”

He cups my jaw, stares at my mouth, and strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. “I could eat.” He licks his lips then lifts his gaze to mine.

I take his thumb between my lips and suck for one, two, three breaths. Oliver’s basil-green irises morph into a molten forest green before I release the digit.

“Or we can skip food to satisfy other cravings.” He arches a brow.

Rising from the couch, I extend my hand and try to ignore the bulge in my pants and his. “Later.” I tip my head in the direction of the door. “Let’s go out.”

“I want to tell my family,” I blurt after the server delivers garlic bread to the table.

Soft green irises greet me when I glance across the table. A gentle smile on Oliver’s lips as he reaches for his water. “Whenever you’re ready.”

My heart thrashes in my rib cage as a light sheen of perspiration dampens my skin. Beneath my diaphragm, a whir of energy sparks to life and swirls steadily. I curl my fingers until my nails bite my palms, then shake them out.

“Why am I so fucking nervous?”

Beneath the table, Oliver presses his leg against mine. The contact is an instantaneous balm.

“It’s a big deal.” His lips shift side to side. “I’d be shocked if you weren’t nervous.”

Tired of caring about other people’s opinions of me, I extend an arm and rest my hand close to his on the table. One breath followed by another, his eyes glass over, flitting from my gaze to my waiting hand. Almost indiscernible, his brows twitch before he takes my hand with his.

Warmth and comfort and thrill dance across my skin and thrum through my veins the moment our hands connect. In a single move, everything feels right. Perfect. As it’s meant to be.

With gentle, lazy strokes, my thumb caresses his hand. “I already know how my father will react.” I shudder as an image of his red, severe expression dances across my vision. “Wish I was more certain about my mom.” My gaze drops to the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “I’m so damn tired. Of the facade. Of the secrecy.” I meet Oliver’s patient stare. “Of not holding my boyfriend’s hand in public.”

God… calling Oliver my boyfriend, saying it out loud for anyone to hear… Liberation washes over me as a lifetime of invisible burdens lift from my shoulders.

“Whatever you decide to do, whenever you choose to do it, I’ll be here,” he declares and tightens his hold. “I’ll always be here.”

His proclamation is a warm, gentle caress around my heart. A hit of dopamine to my bloodstream. The most incredible, unparalleled high.

And damn, it has me eager to spill how deeply I feel for him. How deeply I’ve always felt for him.

A constant temptation, that four-letter word edges closer to the tip of my tongue, daring to jump.

But I hold back a little longer.

Hands connected the entire time, we eat dinner in comfortable silence.

After I pay the bill, we leave the restaurant and head back to Oliver’s place. During the drive, I tell him I don’t want to wait. That I want to tell my family tomorrow. And then I ask him to come along. Without hesitation, he says yes.

When we step inside his apartment, I feel more at home than any previous time. Like I’ve finally found my footing, my place, and acknowledged that Oliver is my person.

We strip off our clothes and take our time with each other’s bodies. With unhurried lips and fingers and strokes, we say more than any words will ever express. And after I spill inside of him, he hauls me to his chest and holds me with unrivaled ferocity.

I love you, Oliver Moss.

It’s my last thought before I fall asleep in his arms.