Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(81)

“I’m sorry, Autumn,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

In between the ragged sobs, I inhaled the potent scent of him. Just like the morning when I put on his shirt by mistake, it overwhelmed me. Filling up my nose and throat and chest until all at once, my tears were burnt up on a flush of dry heat that swept through my entire body.

I leaned back in the circle of his arms and looked up, falling into his ocean eyes. His hands rose to cup my face, thumbs brushing along my wet cheekbones.

Just like in the dream.

He held me as if I were the most precious thing he’d ever touched with his calloused hands and scarred knuckles. He swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple bobbed over the collar of his black shirt. Then he gently let me go.

“Connor’s just as scared,” he said. “I’m not excusing him, but believe me when I say it’s not his fault.”

I nodded, and took a deep breath. Wiped my eyes. “I’m done here. Drive me home?”

“Can’t,” Weston said. “I sold my piece of shit.”

“For a loaf of bread?”

He grinned out of the corner of his mouth. “Something like that. How about a walk?”

So we walked home in the falling twilight. I shivered in the late winter’s cold and Weston shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over my shoulders. I closed my eyes at the heady scent of him and his residual body heat in the collar and sleeves. Opened them to gaze at him walking beside me, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He’s beautiful. And he’s scared.

I linked my arm in his. “To keep you warm,” I told him.

His eyes widened and he slowly stopped walking.

“What?” I said.

His silent gaze roamed over my face, my hair, squinting at the sun setting behind me, taking it all in.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just… Nothing.”

We resumed walking in comfortable silence. I welcomed it this time. I was out of words. I only wanted to walk with my friend whom I loved.

I do. I love Weston. And I’m losing him, too.

“Connor’s family is throwing us a goodbye party,” Weston said at my front door. “In two days.”

I gave his jacket back, and hugged myself in the chilly air, holding my emotions in check. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to make it to Connor’s party. The one that you are inviting me to.”

Weston chuckled. “He will call and tell you himself.”

I smirked. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Will you come?”

“When, and if, he invites me,” I said. “I’ll say yes.”

He smiled a little.

“I’ll see you then, Autumn.”

“Bye, Weston.”

He pressed his lips together and jammed his hands in his pockets. Then he turned and strode away.

Inside my place, I dumped my sweater and purse on the floor and went to my desk and the stack of Connor’s letters.

The proverbial moth to the flame, I thought, feeling lost. Like I’d lost myself in a man and this strange relationship with Connor. I should have been drawn straight to my neglected work, but I wanted the letters instead.

“Hello to you too,” Ruby said from the couch where she was watching an old Steve Martin rom-com. “How was work?”

“Hey,” I said, rifling through envelopes. “Fine.”

I scanned the latest letter, the one that made my heart ache with its quiet intensity.

Quiet intensity is exactly how I’d describe Weston Turner.

I blinked at the sudden thought. “Ruby?”

“Yeah?”

I bit my lip, and set the letter down. “Nothing. Never mind. I’m going to lie down a bit.”

“Feel okay?”

“Just tired.” I went into my room and shut the door, then pulled out my phone.

Are you there? I texted.

I’m here, baby.

Tears came again, as if something deep inside me had sprung a leak.

I need to hear your voice.

No answer for a moment, then my phone lit up with Connor’s incoming call.

“Hi,” I said, sniffing.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s all I ever do lately.”

A sigh gusted over the line. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry. Weston is sorry. What are you both so sorry for?”

“You talked to him?” His voice curled higher over the words.

“He came to visit me at work. Why?”

A beat. “I don’t know what he’s sorry about. That we’re both knuckleheads who joined the Army?”

I sniffed a laugh. “Don’t do that. I’m mad at you.”

“I know. Fuck, the last thing I want is to hurt you.”

“I’m not talking about joining the Army. I’m scared for you, but the hurt is from your silence, Connor.” I blinked back tears. “Why would you write to me like you did in Boot Camp and not expect me to…” I bit back the words, fall in love with you. “Have strong feelings for you after?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he said, sounding almost angry. “I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself, to be perfectly honest. Writing to you that way was selfish. Really fucking selfish. And stupid.”