The Falling (Brightest Stars, #1)(100)

“I have a ten-o’clock opening and a twelve, but I could come in at nine or eight thirty for you, since you came all this way tonight,” I told him.

“Let’s do eight thirty so it will be extra-quiet in here.” He turned to look at the hours of operation painted on the front door in clear white letters.

“Okay.” I swallowed. “Eight thirty it is. Can I have your name, please?”

“Nielson,” he told me. I wrote it down. It sounded familiar, but I knew I had never seen his face before. I knew faces.

“Are you . . . you know, going to give me that kind of massage?” His voice crawled over me like tiny little spiders.

My stomach dropped. “What did you just say?” I snapped. I looked at the camera again, this time in a really obvious way. This time he noticed.

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to run. But I reached deep for my courage and held my ground.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I said, as firmly as possible. Then I reached for the landline and lifted it halfway to my ear.

He gestured in mock surrender, smirking. I thought I saw a flash of metal in the back of his jaw when he laughed. “I’m joking! Sorry, bad joke. Sorry, sorry.” He held his hands up. “No harm done.”

I stared at him silently, not lowering the phone, and hoping he couldn’t see my hand shaking or the way my knuckles were stretched and white, holding on to the phone as tightly as I could. It had been a while since someone made an offensive comment like that, and I didn’t find it funny, at all. After the longest few seconds of my life, he retreated, walking backward, keeping his eyes on me as he moved toward the front door.

Those icy blue eyes and taut pale skin were much more threatening now that he had been so inappropriate.

Just before he backed out of the door, the man smiled again, like he had a thought pop into his head.

“You’re Fischer’s daughter, right?” An alarm sounded in my head. Who was this guy?

“What?” I managed.

The bell on the door chimed when he leaned his back against the door frame.

“You look just like him.”

I was stunned into silence. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Please, please leave, I silently begged him. He turned around and hovered in the doorway. And in that moment, just as the door was slowly pulling closed, Kael appeared on the sidewalk. I thought I was going to pass out at the sight of him there.

Kael was illuminated under the streetlights. I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Martin?” The man knew Kael’s name. I don’t know why this web just kept surprising me.

Kael’s eyes searched my face.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, as he walked directly toward me, ignoring the man.

I nodded, confused, but felt my heart slow; the effect Kael had on me hadn’t diminished one bit. It was such a relief to have him here. Not only because of what had just happened, but because I wanted to see him. I knew I wanted to see him. I felt the air disappear from my lungs. They burned and my heart sped as I looked at him. His eyes took me in slowly before they darted around the lobby and he stepped inside. The man, Nielson, had taken off by the time I looked past Kael a moment later.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

He was dressed in all black, except for his typical stark-white sneakers. His hair was freshly buzzed and he was undeniably handsome, as always.

“You texted me. Did you not want me to come?” He took a step toward me.

I scoffed. “You didn’t reply.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked again. Nothing.

I held the phone up to show him the blank screen. Just my wallpaper of a sunset was there.

He shrugged his broad shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I came.”

“Why?” I was getting emotional already. I tried to reel it in and give him a moment to speak.

Kael’s expression softened and he shook his head slowly. I wished I could read his mind. “I’m sorry, I should have responded to your text. If you want me to go—”

I held my hand up. “No, I don’t want you to go,” I admitted.

The corner of his full lips twitched and pulled into a half-smile. “Good.”

I laughed, surprising myself. God, it felt so good to be near him. I grabbed my purse and walked toward him. I wanted to hug him, I wanted to hold on to him, I wanted to yell at him and laugh with him, I wanted to cry and scream and giggle and sit in silence. I didn’t have a fucking clue what I wanted. I didn’t know what to say to Kael or what the first step should be.

He seemed to sense my hesitation as he pushed the door open. “Shall we?” He waved his hand for me to go first.

I followed him outside and locked the shop door, forgetting about everything and everyone except Kael Martin.





CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE




Kael opened the door and I climbed into his truck. The familiar smell of him saturated my senses; my nerves were unwinding second by second. I tried not to think about how much was left unresolved between us or how much I wanted to know what was going to happen next. I didn’t know what the hell to say or do, so I just sat there, leaning my back against the seat, trying to gather my thoughts.

Kings of Leon’s first album was playing low through the speakers. I rolled down the passenger window to get some air. It smelled a little like fresh rain and earthworms. It helped calm me. The wind blowing, Kael driving, the loud thrum of the engine in this beast of a truck. It all helped calm me.