Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(55)

My father said if he were the grease that kept the engine of our family going, Lynette Caldwell was the nuts and bolts that held it all together. I hadn’t seen her shed any tears since I’d arrived. Her blue eyes stayed sharp, vigilant, and dry as she watched the nurses come and go. I inherited my red hair and pragmatism from Mom, but I had my father’s hard work ethic and his soft heart.

The heart that almost gave out.

The doctor said Dad’s arterial blockage was 97% and it was a miracle he was still alive. But he was alive and any second now—thanks to Connor—I would see him.

My eyes fell shut and my head lolled against my brother’s shoulder. Travis, at eighteen, was a carbon copy of my father in both looks and soul. Kind and hard-working. But Mom said Travis had so many clouds in his head, she was surprised he didn’t float away. He was content to be a farmer. The love of the land ran simple and true in his blood. Growing up, he spent summer nights in our front-yard hammock, drinking lemonade and watching the fireflies, while I sat at the porch table with my schoolwork.

My dream was to go to college and get out into the world. Travis felt the world was already there in his backyard.

We all sat up together as a nurse emerged from the hallway and headed straight for us. “You can see him now.”

We followed her down the hallway toward the ICU. At Room 2014, the nurse opened the door. Tears sprang immediately to my eyes. If Mom looked ten years older, Dad had time-traveled twenty years into the future. His tanned, weathered face was now gaunt and pale. His hair had been salt-and-pepper when I saw him over the summer. Now it lay thin and white against his head, so small on the pillow. All of him looking so diminished, lying within a nest of tubes and wires and machines that breathed for him.

But he was alive.

“He may go in and out of consciousness,” the nurse said from the door. “I’ll leave you to visit for a little while, but then he must rest.”

“Hello, Henry,” Mom said, and sank into a chair beside the bed, as if her vigil against death was over and she had won. For now.

I went to the other side and slipped my hand in my father’s. Once a hearty and strong grip, now weak and limp.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

“Hey, Dad,” Travis said from the foot of the bed.

For a handful of seconds, there was only the steady push of oxygen from the machine, and then my father opened his eyes and looked right at me. A small, weak smile stretched his lips.

He was too weak to do more than twitch his fingers against my hand. But he was there with me, and I was there with him. And I wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything in the world.





After the nurses shooed us out to let Dad rest, we went down to the cafeteria to grab an early breakfast.

“Tell me about this boy you’re seeing, Autumn,” Mom said, as we sat down with our trays of oatmeal, fruit, and coffee. She folded her napkin in her lap and nudged my brother’s elbows off the table as if we were back at home. “Connor, was it?”

“He’s not like anyone I’ve dated before,” I said. “Certainly not like Mark.”

My mother pursed her lips. “Good to hear.”

“He’s really the son of a senator?” Travis asked. “And a billionaire?”

“Yes, but that’s the least important thing about him,” I said, earning an approving nod from my mother. “Until last night, his money had no bearing on how I felt about him. It still doesn’t, except that I’m grateful to him.”

“As are we.” Mom took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “So are things serious with him?”

I had no idea how to answer that. “Yes and no,” I said. “Mostly yes, but…it’s complicated.”

“Mm. How’s your Harvard application coming along?”

“It’s not. I’ve been a little distracted. Honestly, I still don’t know where to put my focus.” I toyed with my spoon. “How are things with the farm?”

Travis glanced at me, then Mom.

“First things first,” Mom said, shooting him a look. “Your father’s health is the most important thing right now. Let’s concentrate our energies there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Travis said.

“Okay, Mom,” I said.

My brother and I exchanged smiles. Lynette Caldwell, rain, shine, or tragedy, never changed.





We spent the afternoon in Dad’s room, mostly holding his hand while he slept. He couldn’t speak with the breathing tube in place. So many tubes: in his chest, his neck, his stomach, plus an IV in his arm and an oxygen monitor on his finger. A thin white bandage poked up from his hospital gown, covering the seam where his chest had been cracked open.

While he slept, Mom worked on her cross-stitch and Travis sat on the window ledge, scrolling his phone. I sat in one of the chairs beside Dad’s bed, eyes drooping. I hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and my thoughts became nonsensical. Breaking apart and reforming. Visions shifting and scattering until finally, I was in Connor’s arms, his beautiful green eyes gazing into mine.

There’s so much I want to tell you, he said.

Tell me, I whispered.

He bent to kiss me instead. I got lost in the sensation of pure want that bloomed in my belly and the heat that swept through my veins. I clung to him as the kiss became urgent, deeper, my mouth opening wide to take everything he could give me. We kissed like breathing until finally, I broke away.