Night Star

twenty

He calls out my name, his voice coming from behind me. Right behind me. Causing me to turn, instinctively, automatically, moving toward him without thinking.

“You’re back.” He looks at me, the words a statement, his gaze a question.

I nod. And then I shrug. And then I struggle to cease all outright modes of fidgeting as I try to decide where to take it from here.

But clearly he’s far more up to the task than I am, because barely a moment passes before he says, “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” I narrow my gaze, instantly regretting the tone, the words. Seeing the way he flinches, the way his eyes pull down at the sides, but now that I’ve said it, there’s no taking it back.

“I’ve missed you.” He gestures toward me, his hand lifting, reaching, but only briefly before it falls back to his side. “I’ve missed the sight of you, the scent of you. I’ve missed every single thing about you.” He allows his gaze to move over me slowly, circling, like the warmest of hugs. “And even if you decide to never talk to me again, it won’t change a thing. Nothing can ever change how I feel about you.”

My insides turn to jelly—a quivering mass of indecision. Torn between bolting—getting myself as far from him as I possibly can—and running straight into the shelter of his warm and wonderful arms. Wondering how I can possibly feel so totally empowered to deal with Haven and all of her crap, to do whatever it takes to get a handle on her—but this, this thing with Damen, seeing him with her, and now standing before me like he is—well, it instantly unearths every last trace of my old insecurities and self-doubt.

Leaving me to wonder why it’s always so much easier to train the body than the heart.

I mean, out of all the girls in this school, why her? Why Stacia? Surely there’s someone else he could play the white knight for…

But just after thinking it, the reason becomes clear. And I watch as she ducks out of class, makes her way down the hall, head lowered, shoulders slumped, gaze fixed on a distant point just in front of her, not daring to risk any accidental eye contact with her tormentors, as she cowers against their onslaught of hate—the slew of harsh words, cruel looks, and the occasional water bottle aimed at her head.

And even though my mind hates the fact that he’s the only one who can protect her, my heart knows I have nothing to worry about, nothing to fear.

“As it just so happens, she needs protecting more than anyone else,” Damen says, nodding toward the scene I just witnessed. “A lot’s changed since you were last here. The whole school’s turned against her. And even though you may think she deserves it, trust me, no one deserves that, no one deserves what Haven’s put her through.”

I nod, knowing it’s true, wanting him to know that I know it’s true, but unable to actually voice the words. It hurts too much to speak.

“But, Ever.” He pauses, gaze holding mine. “I’m merely looking after her here at school, nothing more. It’s not at all what you think, or what you might fear. It’s always been you. I thought you knew that.”

“I do know that,” I say, finally finding my voice again. “But does she?” I cringe at the statement, hating the sound of it, the weak, disgusting, totally embarrassing sound of it. Still, it’s not like I can’t see the way she gazes at him. Same way she always gazes at him. Same way most girls gaze at him. The only difference is, with Stacia, there’s history.

“She does.” His face is grave, his eyes never once straying from mine as his hands hang open, loose by his sides. “Trust me, I’ve told her. She knows.”

I swallow hard and study those hands, remembering all of the wonderful things that they’re capable of and longing to feel them again. Knowing from the way they tremble ever so slightly that it’s taking every last ounce of his strength to stay right where he is, rooted in place. That all I have to do to bridge the terrible chasm gaping between us is take one step toward him—one step away from the past, Stacia, and everything else.

If only it were that easy.

While I know our past lives don’t define us, I still can’t make peace with some of the more undeniable facts. Like his penchant for pulling me away from my loved ones so that he can have me all to himself—having done so twice that I know of. And I can’t help but wonder how many other times he’s resorted to that, and how many people have suffered because of it.

The bell rings, the sound trilling loudly, but neither one of us moves.

We just stand there together, allowing a scurry of students to move all around in a blur of color and sound. Our gazes locked, bodies still, his mind streaming tulips toward me until I’m surrounded by a glorious halo of them only we can see.

The spell broken when someone bumps into me—hard—one of Haven’s minions who’s severely misjudged me. Tossing me a belligerent gaze and a few choice words to go with it, until she reads the look on Damen’s face and swiftly cowers away.

“I understand.” I nod, watching as a wadded-up piece of paper bounces off the side of Stacia’s head as she ducks into class. My gaze shifting from her to him when I add, “Really, I get it. It’s good of you. Kind of you. It’s the right thing to do. So don’t worry about me, you just continue to protect her, and I’ll…” I search the hall, watching it empty as everyone races to beat the tardy bell. “And I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting any worse—to keep Haven under control.”

“And us? Is there any hope for us?” he asks.

But I leave the words behind.

His thoughts drifting from behind me, around me, curling up inside me, as I turn and make my way down the hall.

Reminding me that he’s here.

Will always be here.

All I have to do is let him in.