Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(49)

“We can make it,” Connor said, leading her by the hand toward the Hellcat. “I’ll get you there, I swear.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

Connor opened the passenger door and Autumn had a foot in the well when she abruptly reversed directions and rushed back down the sidewalk.

To me.

She jumped at me, wrapped her arms around my neck, her feet off the ground for a second. Not giving me a hug of gratitude, but taking something from me instead.

“I’m going to be strong, like you,” she said against my neck. “I have to get to my dad.”

“That’s right,” I said. I held her tight and inhaled everything I loved about her. “And you will.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she released me and hurried to Connor’s waiting car.





Connor texted around eight o’clock that Autumn made her flight. I was already in bed, reading and resting my body for the next day’s track meet. I should’ve gone to sleep then. Instead I lay awake, waiting for the sound of Connor’s key in the door.

He came home around quarter after ten and I met him in the living room.

“Well?” I demanded, as if he were late for curfew.

He gave me a strange look. “Well, what? I told you she made the flight.”

“Right, right,” I said, dialing it down. “I was just worried about her. Is she okay?”

“She’s scared for her dad and relieved to be on the way to him.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it toward a chair. “Good thing you were with her when she got the news.”

“I know. I was doing my pre-race carb load and she came in for…something. Her work schedule, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” I said. “You did a good thing for her.”

A shade of Connor’s usual smile came back. “We both did.”

“You bought her a flight home to see her dad. I bought her a coffee.”

And that, friends and neighbors, sums it all up, doesn’t it?

Connor’s smile widened. “Between the two of us, she got there. What time is it?” He glanced at his watch. “Early yet. I’m all jacked up from that crazy drive to Boston. I could actually still make the Delta party. Try to chill.”

“Isn’t Autumn going to text you or something, when she knows how her dad is?”

He nodded. “She lands around one a.m. her time. I probably won’t hear from her until tomorrow.”

His expression was growing curious, which I cut off at the pass.

“Cool. Well, whenever you talk to her, tell her I hope all is well.”

Connor’s brow smoothed out. “Sure thing.” He pointed toward the hallway. “Now get your ass in bed. You’re running tomorrow.”

He went out to party and I lay flat on my bed again. Sleep eluded me. Every passing minute I was awake was one step closer to a shitty track meet, but my thoughts were full of Autumn. And her dad. They were close. Hell, he was still around. Married to her mom. A solid human being of flesh and blood, instead of a ghost. I needed him to be okay for her. I needed to imagine them in their house, having breakfast together, a family.

I dozed and dreamt of a large house in a sea of green cornstalks, and baby chicks hopping around a yard.

At three a.m., my best friend’s drunken stumble woke me as he navigated his way to the kitchen for some water. I listened for voices—especially that of the female persuasion. Connor rarely came home from a party alone.

He was alone.

And hungover or not, he’d still come to my meet. Or so I hoped.

He’s a good guy at heart.

I listened to him shuffle to bed, then crept out of my room. As usual, Connor had left his keys, phone and wallet on the table by the front door.

I opened his phone and searched for a message from Autumn. Nothing. I did some math: if she arrived at Omaha at 1 a.m., she still had an hour drive to Lincoln, putting her at the hospital around two. Which meant she could be texting Connor any minute now.

I stretched out on the couch with Connor’s phone on my chest. Sleep pulled at me but my brain wouldn’t quit.

If it’s his time, at least let her say goodbye. Let her have that with him, instead of nothing. Instead of desertion.

I dozed again and dreamt of the start of the race. I took my mark and the track vibrated beneath my fingers. I jerked awake. Connor’s phone vibrated a text. Heart pounding, I read the message.

Hey. It’s late, I hope this doesn’t wake you. I’m at the hospital. He’s made it through surgery. Quad bypass. He’s in ICU now, stable, and we’re waiting to get the okay to see him.

Relief gusted out of me. The rolling dots told me she was writing another text, but my thumbs flew to reply first: So fucking glad.

The rolling dots of her reply stopped. A pause. Then: OMG, you’re awake.

If you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep.

I’m crying (again.) You got me here. I don’t know how to thank you.

You don’t have to, I typed. I’m just happy you made it.

Me too. It’s a gift, beyond money, to be here right now.

My lack of sleep must’ve been catching up with me since my eyes stung.

Tell Weston good luck on his track meet, she wrote. And thank him for me too, okay?