When Stars Fall

by Wendy Million

“Wyatt.” She presses her face into my shoulder.

  “Still here.” I kiss the top of her head. Inhaling her shampoo, I want to smother her with love. If my heart was this full the first time around, the drugs must have dulled it. A damn tragedy in itself. I get Ellie. I get Haven. A fresh start with our new baby, and a chance to be a present, involved father right from the beginning.

  “I should warn you about something, or ask you to . . .” She purses her lips and seems to be searching for her words. “Watch out for me.” She rotates to stare at the ceiling.

  “What’s that mean?” I prop my head on my hand.

  “When I had Haven, I got sick. Kinda scary-sick.” She glances at me. “My mom told me the same thing may never happen again, but if it does . . .”

  “What happened?” I lace our fingers together. Ellie was sick enough to scare herself and her mother last time, and I wasn’t there to help her, to protect her.

  “Postpartum depression. Quite bad.” She mirrors my pose, her head in her hand. She focuses on our intertwined fingers. “I hope I never feel that way again. It was terrible. I thought I was the worst mother ever. My mom says postpartum is common and nothing to be ashamed of, but it leveled me. I’ve never felt that low—didn’t realize those feelings existed. A maze I couldn’t find my way out of.”

  When we were together, she was the rock, the tough one. In any crisis, she was the person I looked to, the one I leaned on. That I wasn’t there for her when she needed it most makes my chest ache.

  “Is that why you came to see me in LA after Haven was born?”

  She’s quiet for so long I’m not sure she’s going to answer. “I was mixed up, and I needed you to be someone you weren’t capable of being.”

  “I can be that person now. You won’t be alone.” I tip her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I believe you.” Tears pool in her eyes and she gives a curt nod.

  On the bedside table, my alarm buzzes. I hit the snooze before glancing out the window. The sun hasn’t come up yet. A damn early call time when I would give anything to stay in bed. I’m afraid to leave this room, with this bubble we’ve created over the last few hours. It’s delicate, and anything could pop it and put me—us—right back where we were before.

  “Wyatt.” Her hand lands on my arm.

  I turn and fold her into me. “Something else?” I squeeze her tight. If I’m a little late, no one will get too upset.

  “Anna.” She skims my shoulder with her lips. “I love you, and I want to be with you. For us to be a family. But the way she behaved yesterday . . . the way she is now, I don’t want her around our kids.” She presses her cheek against my bare chest. “I don’t even want her around her own kid.”

  I rub my face with my free hand and draw Ellie against me. One of her legs settles over mine. “My situation with Anna is complicated.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we do nothing. That poor kid. And Haven—she doesn’t understand either.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Part of me has known for a long time where Anna and I were headed. I haven’t been able to face that road.

  “Custody. You and I go after custody of Jamal.”

  Having her here, talking about these things with her, is good and terrible. Anna’s my baby sister. “Do you want to know why I haven’t done anything yet?” She glances up at me, but she doesn’t say anything. “Because Anna’s rock bottom comes after she’s lost him. To me, her rock bottom looks a lot like Isaac’s spiral. I can’t be responsible for someone’s death again.”

  “Oh, Wyatt. What happened to Isaac wasn’t your fault. There were things going on with him we couldn’t understand because he didn’t let us.”

  “But he lived with me. We were best friends from the time we were six until the day he died. If anyone should have known he was headed that way, it was me.”

  She feathers kisses meant to comfort across my skin, and her fingers graze my nipple. I cover her hand with mine, stilling her exploration. I can’t concentrate when her hands roam my body. Sinking into her and forgetting the rest of the world exists is too tempting.

  “I see the signs in Anna. If I take Jamal, she might end up dead.”

  “That’s what you think?” Her hand flattens on my chest.

  “There’s a thin cord named Jamal keeping Anna from going too far. Without him, Anna won’t have a reason to stop.” Now that I’m clean and sober, I recognize the reasonable logic, but I understand how an addict thinks. The addict in me knows how Anna will respond. This isn’t a leap.

  Without Jamal, any reason she may have to get clean is gone. Pain and regret can so easily be buried under a pile of pills, hard drugs, and alcohol. I did the same with Kabir, with Isaac, and then I did it again when Ellie left. The spiral and I are well acquainted.

  “What if you talk to her? Ask her to go to rehab or whatever else she needs to do?”

  “You think we haven’t had those conversations?”

  Her shoulders rise and fall almost imperceptibly. “Maybe she didn’t believe you meant it.”

  The day Ellie left me I didn’t mean my threat. I didn’t want her to leave. The cracks in my chest that were starting to seal over begin to re-open.

  She squeezes me tight as though sensing the shift in my mood.

  My alarm sounds again. Kissing the top of her head, I slide out of bed. At the edge, I sit for a minute with my back to her, feet pressed into the floor.

  “Is Anna a deal breaker?” The trick will be to tell Anna I’m taking Jamal. The consequences of that conversation make my heart stutter. There’s a light touch on my shoulder, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. There’s nothing I won’t give up to keep her, Haven, and this baby.

  “My priority is our kids. I love you, and I’ll probably love you until the day I die. That’ll never change.” Her hand withdraws from my back. “Our kids deserve to grow up happy and safe.”

  My skin tingles from her touch, and I don’t want to leave this room. I can’t face the idea of sending my sister to her grave.

  Over my shoulder, I say, “I’ll talk to Anna tonight. I’ve gotta work through how to do this. If I can stop her from hurting herself, I need to do that. You and the kids are my family, but so is she.”

  “If Nikki were in the same position, I’d move heaven and earth to save her. What can we do if she doesn’t want the kind of help she needs?”

  I need to make her want our help. Seems simple. Except I understand how impossible it is. Right about now, a little divine intervention would be amazing.

  “I’ll see you on set in a couple hours.” Her smile is tired but genuine. “Right now, in this moment, I’m really happy.”

  “Me too.” But there’s a dark cloud swirling. No matter how I approach Anna, the outcome is clear. What I do next, I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ellie

  Present Day

  Before my own call time, there’s a knock on Wyatt’s trailer door. It’s still early, and no one else is awake yet. Cautiously, I peer out the window.

  Please don’t let it be Anna.

  A tall woman, bundled to the hilt, is outside, bouncing up and down on her toes, and her face is almost completely obscured by a scarf.

  Nothing about her is familiar. After security let us down last night, I’m wary. “Who’s there?”

  “Camila Silva. Wyatt asked me to come. I’m an addiction specialist. Anna’s here somewhere?”

  I open the door and usher her out of the cold. As each layer is removed, I get a clearer picture of the woman who saved Wyatt from himself. She’s older than I expected, but attractive with her shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes, light brown skin, and muscular stature. She must work out a lot.

  With the winter clothes gone, she thrusts out her hand. “Camila. It’s nice to meet you in person, Ellie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

 
Last night, Wyatt admitted Camila wasn’t sure he should come after me. I’m a trigger. That part of the discussion hadn’t been fun. My presence, my existence, might be harmful. No one wants to hear that.

  “Nice to meet you too.” I accept her hand. “He’s told me a lot about you and how you single-handedly saved him.”

  “No.” She gives a sharp shake of her head and purses her lips. “He’s not giving himself enough credit. He saved himself. No one saves you when you’re an addict. You have to want to save yourself more than you want the next drink, the next pill, the next whatever. The struggle never ends. Every day, he saves himself.”

  Scary and comforting. I threw a lot of money at the biggest addiction charity on the island, but I never asked a lot of questions. The answers weren’t ones I wanted to hear when I didn’t have Wyatt anymore. I am ready to hear now, and I need to pay attention.

  “He’s on set,” I say. “Anna’s in my trailer.”

  “And you’re in Wyatt’s trailer.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, I’m merely trying to determine what’s going on. It’s easier to work with people, to provide solutions, when I have the whole picture.”

  “He probably had you sign some sort of contract?” I take out a cup for tea, and I hold up the kettle to Camila. “Care for a cup?”

  “Tea isn’t strong enough if I’m dealing with Anna this morning. Coffee, if you have it, please.” Camila crosses her arms. “And yes, we have a few ironclad, very expensive contracts protecting him from leaks. I’m very careful. As much as he trusts anyone, he trusts me.”

  “Good to know.” I flick on the coffee maker. “Anna was a surprise. She’s worse now than she was before. And we didn’t get along then.”

  “He’s been very good to his sister over the years. His patience with her is unending.” Camila frowns, clearly holding something back.

  “That might be coming to an end.”

  “You two are back together?” Camila sinks into the closest couch.

  “We are.” I sip my tea.

  “And you’re asking him to choose?” She squints at me, as though she can’t fathom why I’d do that.

  “I can’t have Anna around Haven.” My hand has fallen to my abdomen. “You understand what Anna is like—better than most. She showed up raging yesterday.”

  “Yes, she does that. She’s mostly harmless, depending on what she’s immersed herself in.” She sits up straighter. “Wyatt would never agree to leave Jamal with her, so you’ve asked him to go after custody?”

  “She’s not good for Jamal.” The trauma she’s causing her son might take years to fix if we don’t act soon.

  Camila tips her head, leaning back on the couch again. She picks at the fur on her winter coat, which is piled in a heap beside her. Emotions flit across her face, and I almost smile. She does not have a poker face.

  “You want to say something.”

  “Yep.” Camila glances at me. “But he wouldn’t be happy. It’s a bit of a balancing act. When to hold your cards and when to play them.”

  “There’s a lot going on between us right now. Our lives are complicated, but we want a relationship to work.” I give her a long look. “I can handle Wyatt if you play those cards.” I grip on to the counter behind me. Whatever she’s withholding might be vital.

  “You remember the contract you mentioned earlier? There are certain cards I can’t play.”

  I take a deep breath. I don’t have time for games and half-truths. In fifteen minutes, I need to be in hair and makeup. “Tell me. I won’t tell him you told me. But I’ll do something about it.”

  “My house is the collateral for talking about these things.” Her dark brown eyes meet mine as she calculates whether to trust me. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I like having a home.”

  “He won’t kick you out of your place.” I can probably talk him out of that vindictive move if I absolutely must.

  “The last time Wyatt asked Anna to give him Jamal, she told him she’d kill herself if he took her son. I don’t think she was bluffing. He doesn’t either. If he has to choose between you and Haven or his sister, he’ll pick you. But at what cost?”

  I chug my tea. He wasn’t guessing last night; he knows what his sister will do. I’m not a monster. I don’t want her to die.

  “But the guilt he’ll experience for the rest of his life for choosing you over her will break him. Quickly, slowly, somewhere in-between. Big feelings are hard for him. He already feels partially responsible for Isaac’s death. Adding Anna’s death—his little sister, Jamal’s mother . . . He’ll use again or the two of you will fall apart because you asked and he said yes.” Camila comes to my side to pour her coffee.

  “I’m not sure what to say.” I stare into my empty teacup.

  “For three years, I’ve listened to Wyatt tell me how much he loves you. You’ve let him in the door again. He’ll do anything to stay there. Anything you ask.”

  “I don’t want Anna to die. The picture you painted—that’s not an outcome any of us wants.”

  “You deserved to understand. He’d never tell you.”

  He’d worry I wouldn’t stay. We’re in an impossible situation. “Was it hard?” I glance up. “For him to get clean?”

  “Very.” She shifts her coffee cup to her other hand. “A lot of trial and error.”

  “If I’d told him ten years ago when I was pregnant with Haven—do you think he would have gotten clean back then?”

  “You don’t pull any punches.” Camila lets out a low whistle. “Did you ask him this question?”

  “In a roundabout way, yeah.”

  “And?”

  “He said it wasn’t a fair question. But you’re the expert. Maybe you can tell me.”

  “You want me to ease your conscience?”

  “He’s so good now. Such a good man.” My voice grows thick, and I have to pause to collect myself. “He always was, but the addiction gripped him so hard. I’ve loved him so much for so long that I want to be sure I did the right thing.”

  “I can’t answer with any sense of certainty. We’ll never know.” She runs her hand up and down my arm in a gesture of comfort. “People are unpredictable. You made a choice based on what you saw in him then.” Sipping her coffee, she gives me a thoughtful look. “That’s the thing about a choice. Once you make it, you can’t ever go back to undo it. What’s done is done.”

  I place my teacup in the sink, then I gather my hair up and let it fall over and over. “This choice with Anna and Jamal . . .”

  “Is another one of those moments. It’s a big one. A row of dominoes.”

  “I always hated that game.”

  Already I’m in over my head with Wyatt. Being with him is all-consuming. Since he left this morning, he’s all I’ve thought about. Last night sparked something, and my feelings are burning down all my defenses. I want him, no matter the cost.

  Nikki pads into the kitchen, yawning. “Don’t you have to be there in five minutes?” She glances at the phone clutched in her hand and then spots Camila.

  “Yeah, I do.” I rub my cheeks, feeling emotionally drained yet again. Just when I thought I was on even ground, something else makes me wobble. “Nikki, this is Camila, Wyatt’s addiction specialist. And Camila, Nikki is my sister.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Nikki says and extends her hand for Camila to shake.

  “Nikki, make sure Haven stays away from Anna today,” I say.

  “I’m with you there. She was scary last night.” Nikki pats my shoulder. “Haven shouldn’t be anywhere near her.”

  “She wouldn’t hurt Haven on purpose.” Camila grimaces.

  “Maybe not. But Haven’s not used to Anna. And we won’t have a chance to talk until there’s a break in filming this afternoon or maybe tonight,” I say.

  “As the ex-other-parent, I agree with Ellie.” Nikki grabs a mug and fills it with coffee. “We keep Haven the h
ell away from Anna. She was unhinged.”

  “You said she’s in your trailer?” Camila frowns and takes another drink of her coffee.

  “She should be. It’s not like we put a guard outside the door or anything.” I grab my coat, hat, and mitts off the warming rack. “Security wasn’t very useful last night.”

  “Noted,” Camila says. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  “Alone?” Nikki’s voice fills with disbelief. “Nope. You need six Jedi masters with you.”

  “Nikki.” I laugh as I tuck my hair into my hat.

  “I’m not exaggerating . . .” Nikki starts the familiar phrase from our childhood.

  “You’re ‘remembering big,’” I finish with a shake of my head. “Come get me if you need me.” I open the door and head to work.

  Wyatt and I have to talk. Camila is right. He’d never survive being the instrument of his sister’s death, and I can’t ask that of him.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Wyatt

  Present Day

  James, the director, is a taskmaster. Normally, a day on set is an exercise in hurry up and wait. Lots of time to sit around and watch a clock turn over. Today, he’s more organized and efficient than usual. He’s annoying the shit out of me. I need mental space to decide what to say to Anna later tonight about Jamal.

  “Cut, cut. Jesus, Wyatt. Get your fucking head in the game,” James yells from his seat.

  He’d better not get off his chair. The takes when he ambles over, he gives a close-talker lecture. His cocky attitude leads us to the cusp of a full-on brawl. Patience will not hold me back from hitting him today. My inner Zen is being stored up for later.

  “There something you want to say to me?” I ball my hands up. Hitting him would help with these shitty feelings. Release them through my fists.

  James ignores me. He must sense I’m not taking his shit today.

  I check my watch and remember it’s a prop. I curse under my breath. “Time?” I call out to anyone close enough to hear.

  A crew member eating a bagel off to the side checks his phone. “Eight thirty.”