Fallen Stars (Stone Bay Series Book 3)

Chapter 19

The summer sunwarms my skin as Oliver and I walk hand in hand through the crowd. The scent of fried sugar, salty cheese and grilled meat lingers in the air. Hundreds of residents mingle with countless tourists and chat about the festival’s music itinerary. Pop-up tents offer an array of food, an assortment of drinks, merchandise and information from local small businesses, and endless arts, crafts, and festive entertainment for all ages.

The Fourth of July Festival is Stone Bay’s biggest annual event. To no one’s surprise, the festival is grander than the previous.

People throughout the state flock here for the festivities. Many book rooms at the ski resort or inn or reserve one of several rentals from the Seven and stay in town for several days. The tourism dollars from this week alone total more than any other season. As a thank-you, the town ups the ante each year and adds new festivities for a more memorable experience.

The gates open at nine in the morning and most attendees stay until they shuffle out close to midnight. I’ve never spent the entire day at the festival but plan to today. Were Hailey’s Fire not on the roster today, if I hadn’t made plans to meet up with the schmuck from online, I would’ve convinced Oliver to stay in bed with me all day.

“Hungry?” Oliver gives my hand a gentle squeeze as we approach a long row of food tents.

I shrug. “A little.”

“I need something in my system before we play.” He slows to a stop after a few tents. “Anything look good?”

Staring down the line, I spot a banner for Rosenberg’s Deli and tug Oliver toward the line. “Maybe something light. Don’t need you retching on stage.”

His hand still in mine, we get in line. Oliver twists to face my side and clings to my arm, resting his chin on my shoulder, his gaze raking over my profile. A soft hum vibrates his chest against my arm.

For years, I’ve wanted this with him—a relationship greater than friendship—but part of me wasn’t ready. Painful as it was to hold back my feelings, agonizing as it was to stay silent and wait, I wouldn’t change a single footprint on our journey. Each step we have taken steered us to where we are now.

Although it hurt to hear about Oliver with other people every now and then, although I had my fair share of meaningless sex with random people to quell my urges, those past partners were necessary. Had we given in to our libidinous desire for each other years ago, we might not have lasted.

The moment I met Oliver, I knew he was different than other guy friends. The more we talked, the more I was convinced we’d be more than friends. Still insecure about my sexuality at the time, I had no idea how or when our relationship would shift, but my instincts knew it was inevitable.

Seven years is a long time to conceal your feelings for someone. Seven years is a long time to keep them close without giving in to what you both want. But without those excruciating years, we wouldn’t appreciate each other and what we have now.

“Love you, moje srce,” he whispers before he presses a kiss to the angle of my jaw.

Oliver straightens a beat before we shuffle forward in line. When we stop, I step into him, clasp his chin and lift until his line of sight locks with mine. The tip of my nose caresses the length of his as I haul him closer. My pulse soars, dick aching as his lips part, his breath painting my skin.

The world disappears as I obliterate the last inch of space between us and take his lips in a ravenous kiss. On a hum, his lips part a breath before his tongue strokes the length of mine. He fists my shirt at my hips and pulls me impossibly closer. The bulge behind his zipper presses my swelling erection. I deepen the kiss, a groan spilling from my mouth to his.

Someone clears their throat and cuts off our first public display.

Me, from months ago, would have been too jittery or self-conscious to kiss Oliver out in the open. Hell, I would have been apprehensive about holding his hand. But after a lifetime of suppressing who I am, after stifling my attraction to Oliver for far too long, all I want to do is tell the world he is mine.

“Love you, Ollie.” I drop one last chaste kiss to his lips.

We order sandwiches and drinks then join his friends and bandmates at a table.

Trip and Hailey talk enthusiastically about their performance in less than an hour.

Skylar picks at her food as she leans into her boyfriend, Lawrence, and says she wants more private cooking lessons from him. Lawrence responds with a suggestive arch of his brow. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. With that simple response, a smile brightens Skylar’s face as she wiggles in her seat.

My gaze drifts to Phoebe and Delilah. I study their intimacy a little longer. Observe the way Delilah softens when Phoebe tucks a flyway strand of hair behind her ear. Of everyone at the table—aside from Oliver—Phoebe intrigues me the most.

Along with Travis, Delilah, and myself, Phoebe is one of the Seven. As kids, we spent a lot of time together. Whenever our families gathered for social events or town meetings, the youngest generation of the Seven was shoved into the same room and encouraged to build friendships. On every occasion, Phoebe removed herself from the group to sit on the sidelines and write. If anyone approached her, she greeted them with a callous expression and verbally bit their head off.

With age, her cool demeanor turned glacial. No one wanted to be within five feet of Phoebe Graves.

Earlier this year, Phoebe and Delilah were thrust together when several dead women were discovered in town and a key piece of evidence put Delilah’s family’s business on the radar. Many assumed Phoebe would crush Delilah’s soul with her vitriol. But we were all surprised.

In a matter of months, Delilah thawed Phoebe’s heart. With every obstacle they overcame, I envied their strength and courage more.

Oliver nudges me with his elbow. “Everything okay? You’re quieter than usual.”

I lean into his side and give him my weight for a moment. “Yeah.” I shrug. “Adjusting.”

He sets his sandwich down and wipes his mouth. “Is this too much at once?” He rests his hand on my thigh. “We’ve hung out with everyone before, but it was different.”

I lay my hand over his. “It’s not too much.” My knee bumps his leg as I turn toward him. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I lean closer. “Is it selfish to want you all to myself?”

His hand on my thigh flexes as he groans. “No.” Inching back, his vibrant basil-green eyes flit to my blues. “Would it make me an asshole to abandon our friends to spend time alone with you?”

He said our friends.

“What’re you two whispering about over there?” Kirsten asks, diverting everyone’s attention to us.

“Do you really want the answer?” Oliver gives her a pointed stare.

Kirsten purses her lips and shakes her head. “Nope. I’m good.”

Laughter echoes around the table.

“We need another movie night,” Kirsten suggests. “Maybe next week when the town is less chaotic, so Trav can join us.”

Like every officer at the Stone Bay Police Department, Travis is on duty all day. He joined us for a quick bite but will soon be wading through the crowd until the festivities end.

I uncap my water and take a sip. “I’ve heard about these movie nights. Lots of food and gossip. Not much movie watching.”

Travis barks out a laugh. “Spot on, man.”

“Hey,” Oliver, Kirsten, Skylar and Delilah say in unison before falling into a fit of laughter.

After we agree to plan a movie night next week, conversation around the table quiets. Travis finishes his sandwich, gives Kirsten a kiss on the head, and blends into the crowd as he resumes work.

Minutes later, Hailey and Trip toss their trash in the bin and head for the stage. Oliver lingers for a moment, his fingers toying with the hem of my shorts.

“Come hang backstage while we play.”

Sleazeball’s message in the chat from yesterday flashes in my mind.

As much as I want to watch Oliver play from the side of the stage, I can’t miss the opportunity to meet this person.

Maybe I should cap how long I wait. Give them fifteen minutes, twenty tops. If they don’t show, it is safe to assume they stood me up. Honestly, wouldn’t shock me if they do.

My stomach twists as I make a poor excuse to not join him. “Mind if I look for Tymber first?”

Hurt shadows his features for a split second. “Of course not.” He licks his lips then swallows. “Work?”

Technically, waiting for this creep is work-related. “Yeah.” I take his hand in mine and lace our fingers. I let his warmth and strength soothe my sudden nervousness. “I’ll come backstage soon.” I lean in and press my lips to his. “Promise.”

Trailing a finger along my jaw, he gives me one more kiss. “’Kay. I’ll let the event staff know.”

Oliver gathers his trash, rises from the table, and ambles away from the table. I follow him with my eyes, not missing the slight slump in his frame.

When he disappears in the crowd, my gaze drifts back to the table. Phoebe openly studies me with a quizzical expression. Her keen, icy stare makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Good to know she hasn’t lost her touch.

I check my watch and note I have less than ten minutes. The last place I want to be when I meet this asshole is near friends. But I don’t want to rush away from the table and garner more attention from Phoebe.

After eating a few more chips, I ball up my sandwich paper, wipe my hands, and collect my trash. All eyes shift my way as I push back on my chair and stand.

“You’re welcome to stay with us, Levi,” Delilah offers.

I scratch my temple and nod. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit. Going to look for Tymber.”

Delilah gives me a kind smile. “Okay. We’ll be near the stage if we’re not here.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Not wanting to prolong our temporary goodbye, I walk off and toss my trash in the closest garbage can.

Weaving through the crowd, I head for the opposite end of the food tents. When I no longer see our friends, I pull the folded hat from my back pocket. At the farthest tent from everyone I know, I stand off to the side and put the hat and my sunglasses on.

The soul-vibrating sound of Oliver’s drums echoes throughout the amphitheater. I let the familiar beat ease the expanding knot in my gut.

Feet rooted to the earth, fingers twitching at my side, I scan every face in the crowd. No one pays me any attention as the first Hailey’s Fire song booms from the speakers.

As song one ends, a middle-aged man approaches me, says hello and asks if I know where the bathrooms are located. I point him in the general direction and he walks away.

Midway through song three, my stomach rolls and I swallow down the sudden urge to vomit. I survey the nearby crowd and search for the source of my unexpected dread. Not a single soul looks my way.

When the fifth song starts, I check the time: 12:18 p.m.

“No-show,” I mutter as I rip the hat from my head. “Dammit.”

The pang in my stomach grows exponentially as I walk off. I do my best to ignore it as I wander toward the stage. I inhale one deep breath after another and attempt to clear my head. As I pass a garbage can, I throw away the hat.

By the end of the fifth song, I pass the event staff and head for the side of the stage. Before the next song starts, Oliver meets my gaze and smiles. It’s an instant balm to my soul and I mouth, Hey.

The rest of their set goes by quicker than expected. When Hailey thanks the crowd and tells everyone to join them at Dalton’s tomorrow night for an encore, cheers and whistles ring through the air.

We hang out near the stage while the next band plays and Oliver cools down. Every now and again, a twinge in my stomach steals my attention. And every time I search for the origin, I come up blank.

For hours, we meander the amphitheater, play games, win prizes, and chat with people at a few tents before joining our friends. While they talk about Hailey’s Fire’s set, I zone out and try to bury the residual pang that just won’t end.

All too soon, the sun dips beneath the horizon and people crowd the lawn. A sense of claustrophobia smacks me hard in the chest.

As if he picks up on my discomfort, Oliver wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. “What’s wrong?”

I close my eyes, lean into his comfort, and rest my head on his shoulder. Absorb his warmth. Breathe in his scent. Melt into his touch. “Just feel off.” I turn and kiss the side of his neck. “But this helps.”

He lays his head on mine. “We can go.”

I shake my head. “When the fireworks end.”

“Okay.” He kisses my hair. “If we need to leave sooner, let me know.”

Tightening my hold on him, I glance up at the sky and get lost in the sea of fiery colors. As the grand finale lights up the night, I kiss my way up Oliver’s neck.

His fingers comb through my hair as our lips meet. My hand drifts beneath his shirt, the pads of my fingers dancing over his abs as I deepen the kiss. Giving me more of his weight, he lowers me to the blanket on the lawn.

For the second time today, the world ceases to exist. The night sky glows above us, the spray of pyrotechnics falling around us like stars.

One of my arms circles Oliver’s waist as my other hand drifts to his hair. He devours me and grinds his erection against mine without shame. I moan into the kiss and lift my hips, silently telling him I need more.

When he breaks the kiss, I lock onto his intense, amorous gaze. My dick twitches, desperate for him.

He notices.

“Home.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Now.”

I push up on my elbows and take his mouth again, greedy for him.

Home.

I’m already there.