Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(17)

She rolled her eyes over her daughter’s head. “Seriously . . . I think I could sleep for a straight week. But my littles were calling to me, so Momma got her tail out of bed. I figured everyone was going to be hungry.”

“I hungry!” Greyson’s hand shot into the air, a worthy volunteer.

“I would have been happy to feed them,” Kristina said.

Tamar waved her off. “It’s fine.”

I jolted when the side door banged open from behind us.

I could almost feel it.

The way the levity drained from the air and aggression flooded in to take its place.

A cold dread that lifted the hairs at the nape of my neck and twisted my stomach in an instant knot of worry.

I guessed everyone else felt it, too, because Kristina stopped what she was saying and all the kids went silent.

From my vantage, I watched the deepest frown set into Tamar’s expression.

Warily, I turned to look over my shoulder to find Lyrik raging in the doorway, wearing tattered jeans and an even older tee and hatred on his face.

“Lyrik. What’s wrong?” Tamar managed, her voice quivering with a shock of dread.

Hands curling around the doorframe, he swallowed hard, the tattoo on his throat bobbing as his eyes skated the room, instinctively moving to land on me. He glanced back at Tamar. “Need to talk to my sister. In private.”

Chills skated down my spine.

A slick of ice.

Freezing me to the spot.

“Please,” he grated, clearly not wanting to make a scene in front of the kids.

I forced myself to snap out of the stupor. I gave a jerky nod.

“Sure.” I attempted to play it off. To act like it was no big deal when Penny finally pulled her attention from the book and shifted it to me.

Like she could feel all of this, too.

Worry etching her sweet, sweet face.

Shakily, I moved for Tamar. “Can you watch him for a second?”

“Of course,” she said, taking him from me and hugging him close while continuing to stare at Lyrik with a million questions playing through her eyes.

He didn’t say anything when he ducked back out. Feet heavy, I followed him into the muted light of the morning.

“I didn’t think you’d be up yet. I needed to talk to you, too,” I rambled at his back as he headed to the edge of the patio, doing my best to break the tension. Terrified of what could have him so upset.

To pretend like this wasn’t a big deal when I could feel the severity of it banging through the atmosphere.

The air colder than it should be.

A frigid warning that scraped my skin in jagged pricks.

There was no missing the fact that Lyrik was doing his best to keep his cool and losing his battle with it, his hands curling into fists, something vicious and dark and cruel radiating from his being.

When we were fully hidden from view of the kitchen window, he finally whirled around.

The outright horror curling his face made me stumble to a stop, breaths going shallow and hard, alarm slowing my pulse to a ragged thud.

“What’s going on, Lyrik? You’re scaring me.”

His eyes pinched for a beat, and he roughed a hand through his hair as he looked away, like he was trying to gather himself, keep it together, but there was no use in it because I could already feel myself falling apart in front of him.

“Got a call from security this morning,” he grunted. He warred, clearly not wanting to continue, his voice cracking as he forced out the words. “Said they had an issue with one of the guest’s cars. They didn’t discover it until this morning. I went out to the lot to check it out. Mia . . . all your tires . . . they’d been slashed. Fifteen fucking other cars had been out there last night, and yours was the only one that had been touched.”

Terror squeezed my heart in a vice grip.

Anxiety clawed at my flesh.

Deep and biting.

Freeing the fear that I’d been trying to outrun for the last three weeks.

But it couldn’t be. It just . . . couldn’t. There had to be another explanation.

My head shook in refusal, not even wanting to contemplate the possibilities. “What do you mean . . . I thought . . . I thought there was security?”

“There was . . . but apparently not enough. Bastard got through.”

Dizziness whirled.

Faster and faster.

The grief I’d been suppressing for weeks rose to the surface, no longer able to be subdued. I tried to break through it, to find air above the dark waters that lapped and churned and fought to suck me under.

My mind raced. It finally came around to settle on the asshole who had gotten handsy.

“I-it had to be that guy last night,” I barely managed to stammer. “The one who’d freaked me out.”

My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, and I fidgeted and ran my hands through my hair like it might have the chance to calm me down. “He . . . he backed me into a corner after you and I talked. Acted like I was there as part of the entertainment or something. Like he could just have me.”

Lyrik gripped two handfuls of hair. He turned a livid circle.

A complete three-sixty that only poured fire on the flames.

Hatred rushing free, hurt bleeding from his mouth.

Lyrik style.

“What the fuck, Mia? Why didn’t you tell me? Come find me? With all this shit goin’ down? God damn it.” The last dripped from his mouth like he was the one to blame.