Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(14)

“Glad I can be of help.”

“More than you know. I’m in your debt.”

“I think I’m being plenty well-compensated.”

Zee grinned. “No. Money ain’t bad.”

I glanced around Lyrik’s extravagant house. “Obviously.”

Lyrik nodded. “I need to get back out to the party. Plane will be waiting for you, like you requested, unless you want to stick around and hang with us?”

“Think I better get back.”

Away from this place.

I pushed to standing.

“I’ll have someone get in contact with you to make arrangements to get you and your things out to Savannah. Plan on being there Wednesday.”

Lyrik put his hand out.

I shook it.

Sealed the deal.

Couldn’t help but feel like I was signing my name in blood.

“I’ll be there.”

“Excited about this,” Lyrik said with a nod. “Feel good things coming from it. Know you write. Never hurts to have a fresh ear on the mix.”

I felt a stir from deep within.

Something powerful.

Stronger than the most depraved parts of me.

Music was my one good.

The one contribution I could make.

“It’ll be cool, yeah.” I glanced around the room. “Guess I’ll see you all later this week.”

I shook hands with everyone, accepting their welcomes into their world while hoping beyond hope that I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

Considering I’d lost all hope years ago, it didn’t do a whole lot to reassure me.

I stepped back out into the clamor that echoed down the hall. Nothing but a rush of voices and music and energy. I waded into the middle of it, letting it fuel the fervor. The heat and the need and the greed.

I cut right through the crowd without slowing and out the front door toward the car that was waiting.

I needed to get the fuck out of this city. Flee from the ghosts that forever ran these streets. Thing was, it didn’t matter how far or how fast I went, they would always be right there, hunting me down.

Waiting in the darkness.

I strode down the walkway, getting ready to slip into the backseat when the driver opened the door, only to pause to look over my shoulder toward the house.

Gaze drawn.

Lifted.

Right to the shadow outlined in the towering stained-glass window.

She was watching down on me.

An angel in the attic.

Heat clawed across my flesh, clashing with the cold.

That vacancy howled.

I gave myself over to it for one moment, for one fleeting second, before I ripped myself from her stare and slipped into the backseat of the car.

Because it didn’t matter where I went or who I pretended to become.

I could never escape the reminder of the penalty that was left to pay.





Five





Mia





From where I sat at the island in the kitchen, I stared out the windows that overlooked Los Angeles as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. It tossed a kaleidoscope of colors across the city.

Pinks and oranges and bursting blues.

I sipped at my coffee while I relished in the sight.

There was always a quiet peace that radiated with the breaking day.

As if we were being offered a second chance. A new story. Our spirits renewed.

I guessed I wasn’t surprised when I was hit with a surge of sadness.

It wafted and curled and saturated. Its own entity. I reached out, welcomed it, held it close to my heart.

I allowed the grief to consume me for the briefest moment. My mother had taught me that sometimes the most important part of healing was allowing ourselves to feel. That we had to allow ourselves to truly feel it without trying to minimize its pain, before we could possibly expect it to not hurt so bad.

And God . . . it hurt so bad it was physical.

An ache that wasn’t close to being dull.

Sharp and biting and as raw as could be.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered beneath my breath, my eyes pressed closed as if she might be able to hear.

Praying that she could. That there was somewhere so much bigger than this life out there.

I jerked out of the daze when I heard a stampede of footsteps thundering from the opposite side of the house.

My aching spirit soared. Lifted like I’d been tossed a life raft.

The one thing in this ugly world that could truly save.

It grew louder and louder. A riot that came closer with every beat.

Two seconds later, the swinging door burst open. A whole herd of children crashed into the kitchen.

Jostling and vying to get in front of the other. Nothing but flailing arms and shrieking voices and laughter that could go on for days.

A soft smile edged my mouth when I took in the tangle. They didn’t even notice I was there considering they were far too busy trying to outdo the other.

Kallie and Connor, who were Baz and Shea’s kids.

Liam, Zee and Alexis’ son, who was seven.

Colton, the three-year-old wild child who belonged to Ash and Willow. Nothing but a ham, just like his daddy.

Sadie, who belonged to Austin and Edie, was right on his tail.

Brendon and Adia, Lyrik and Tamar’s children—my niece and nephew.