To the Stars (Thatch #2)(37)

Harlow: To the stars . . .

My mouth twitched into a smile as I stared at her words, and for a few seconds it felt like I was nineteen again as I tapped out a response. But I wasn’t. And the girl sending me that message was married to an abusive prick.

Knox: Always

As soon as I pushed SEND, I put my phone on the end table and fell onto my bed to try to relax until our next call. But relaxing didn’t come easy these days, and soon my body was tense and I was crossing my arms over my chest to keep them from shaking. All I could see was the way Collin’s fingers dug into her arm, and the marks that were already bruising. I kept seeing flashes of how thin Harlow was now. She looked sick, and after seeing the way her husband treated her in public—and hearing that her family was in danger—it wasn’t hard to see why. I needed to help her; I needed to save her. But I couldn’t do that if she wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t force my way into her marriage. And then all I could think about was the fact that she’d chosen him over me.

The only thing I’d ever done to her was ask her to wait.

Summer 2010—Seattle

“HOW BIG DO you think they are?”

I slowly cracked open my eyes, and glanced over to where Harlow was lying next to me on the blanket. She was leaving for college in a couple of days. This was my last chance to be with her until she finally turned eighteen. My last chance to remind her of what she had waiting for her back home. She might not understand why I was about to do what I’d promised to do over the next few months . . . but hopefully one day she would realize it was all for her. Everything always had been.

We’d been out at a secluded spot for hours, and when just kissing hadn’t been enough, I’d rolled away from her and started counting the days until her birthday, over and over again to calm down. But her question about how big something was wasn’t helping.

“Hmm?”

Harlow gestured toward the sky with her eyes, then moved her body so she could face it. “How big do you think the stars are? They’re so far away, but they look so close. And if you said the closest star is the sun, then I want to know how big the others are.”

“I don’t know, Low.”

She elbowed my side and rolled back over so she was leaning over me. “You said you got an A in astronomy.”

I laughed and brushed away the hair hanging in front of her face. “I only paid attention in that class because it had to do with stars, which makes me think of you.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to look at me expectantly.

“I don’t know how big they are, but I know they vary. Some are really small, and some are bigger than the sun.”

Harlow’s head jerked back, and she looked up at the sky again. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I confirmed. “A lot bigger.”

After looking at the night sky for a few more seconds, she brought her face back in front of mine. The serious look on her face caught me off guard, but before I could ask what was wrong, she said, “I can’t begin to imagine how far away they are if they look that small in comparison to the sun, and some are bigger. And you love me to them.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “I do.”

“The years, my boyfriend and your girlfriend . . . how has it not all been too much?”

It blew my mind that after all this time she still didn’t understand exactly what she meant to me. “I knew within days of meeting you that I wanted you for the rest of my life. Waiting a few years isn’t a lot compared to what I’ll have with you after. The others? They were distractions to help get us here, and you and I both know they were bad ones. Otherwise the calls would’ve stopped and we would’ve grown apart—and that never happened. You said some people aren’t lucky enough to know our kind of love. For a lot of people, all that would’ve been too much. For us, it was just part of our story.”

Harlow’s blue eyes widened in awe, and for a few seconds, she just stared at me. “You . . .” She trailed off and shook her head. “You are such a charmer, Knox Alexander; always have been. Are you this romantic with every other girl?”

A short laugh burst from my chest. “Romantic,” I said, deadpan.

“Yes.”

I sucked in air through my teeth and shook my head. “Low, I’ve told you, I’m the opposite of romantic.”

She lowered her body onto mine and leaned close enough that her lips brushed against mine when she spoke. “I want to love you to the stars? It was just part of our story?”

I caught her mouth for a lingering kiss before saying, “But that’s all true.”

“Romantic.”

“Then it’s only you,” I promised. “No one gets this side of me; no one else ever has.”

Just as she was leaning in for another kiss, she jolted and her eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when she didn’t say anything or move.

“I think . . .”

“What?”

“Did a bird just poop on my head?” she asked in a horrified voice.

I laughed loudly, and looked at her like she’d lost it. “In the middle of the night? I doubt it.” Still laughing, I rolled us over and pressed my body closer to hers. As I brought my mouth back down to hers, I felt the rain start falling against the back of my neck. I let out a sigh against her lips and said, “And that would be your bird.”