One Starry Knight: A Scifi Alien Love Story (The Starry Knight Saga Book 1)

by Carrie Lynn Thomas

  My dad is here with me.

  I open my eyes again, afraid to keep them closed for too long. Afraid to lose this moment. Afraid of this dream ending. The carriage moves and the buildings fade into tree-lined streets. Emerald green lawns surround us, and glimpses of water shimmer in the distance.

  We’re on the drive to the Grand Hotel. It sprawls high on the island, majestic and shining in the sun, and I know where we’re going. I cuddle closer into my dad, equally wanting to stay in the carriage forever and wanting to get to the end.

  The carriage bounces along next to the hotel, passing the endless porch. Rows and rows of clean white railing and bright red flowers. The horses slow to a stop in front of the red-carpeted staircase to the porch. The stairs are empty, stark red against the white. My dad steps from the carriage first and helps me out, before holding out his arm.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod, not entirely sure I am ready. I know each moment that passes is only one moment closer to the end. One moment closer to waking up in a world without my dad. One moment closer to saying goodbye to Adam. I want to slow it down, but I’m on my dad’s arm, climbing the steps, my dress sweeping behind me. At the top, we turn towards the west porch. Red rose petals are sprinkled in a path between the railings and white rocking chairs. The sun is falling in the sky and pink mixes with the gold, casting an unearthly glow across the porch.

  “Wait,” my dad says. “Don’t forget this.” He presses a lush bouquet of pink and red roses into my hands.

  We move, stepping off the red carpet and onto the porch. Rose petals flutter under our shoes and music begins to play. It’s a melody I’ve never heard before, and I’m sure I’ll never hear again.

  Beautiful. So beautiful.

  Each step across the porch brings a memory.

  Reading Harry Potter with my dad, twirling in the kitchen, a box wrapped in pink and white paper with a heart-shaped locket inside. Adam rescuing me from the lake, water balloon fights with Lucas, skipping stones, chasing fireflies, catching fish, bonfires on the beach.

  Pink roses.

  Each memory breaks me inside, and each step closer, my dad holds me up more and more. Don’t let this dream end. Please, don’t let this dream end.

  Adam waits for me, smiling.

  It hurts to let go of my dad, but he squeezes my fingers and whispers, “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

  Adam takes my hand and leads me to where the porch widens at the end, and the minister waits. Standing in a black tux is Lucas. He grins and I step to him, but he points to the waiting minister.

  Words are read and vows are said, but I’ll never remember them. I’ll hate myself later for not listening. For not memorizing every glorious promise we make, but I’m too lost in Adam. Drifting in the sea of his eyes. I want to live there, forever part of him.

  He holds my hands. He says words.

  I repeat them.

  More words, more prayers, more blessings.

  And I am wrapped up in Adam, in his kiss. The sky above us darkens before exploding into green and blue and pink waves of light. They dance around us in breathtaking patterns, creating colors I’ve never seen before.

  “The northern lights,” I say when the kiss ends. “So beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you,” Adam says, and he pulls me close. We’re joined by a piano and a violin, and we’re dancing. He twirls me and holds me and kisses me. The song is haunting, a bittersweet blend of hope and love and sadness.

  The moment is perfect, and I want to hold on so tight. Lucas interrupts us, and as I turn into his arms, I whisper an apology.

  “Lucas,” I say. “I’m sorry I dragged you into the wo—” He presses a finger to my mouth. “Shhh.”

  “You’re like my family, Sage. I love you. If I could do it again, I’d go into those woods every time. I’ve got to let you go—your dad would like this dance. But could you do me a favor before I go?”

  “Anything.”

  “Tell my mom and dad, I love them, and I know you’re not her biggest fan, but tell Brianna I loved her too. Please, for me.”

  He releases me before I can answer, and my dad is at my side. And I twirl in his arms like I did as a child. His voice, his arms, his scent, everything exactly as it once was. Perfect. I inhale him and this moment, locking it deep into my heart.

  The song changes, slowing and fading. My heart slows and fades with it, and I know my dad’s next words before he says them. “I have to go, kiddo,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know that I’ll always be with you. I’ll always love you.” He kisses my cheek, his touch as light as a butterfly’s wings. “Be strong,” he whispers in my ear. “Whatever happens, be strong.”

  And he twirls me back into Adam’s arms. We dance again, holding on so tight that there is no longer two of us. Just one being, beating and breathing together. He cups my face and kisses me. He wipes tears and hair from my eyes. He smiles. Oh, how he smiles.

  The melody, the lights, the hotel are disappearing. Sand squishes beneath my bare feet and the light escapes Adam’s eyes.

  “It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

  He presses his fingers to my lips and smiles.

  “Thanks, for this. Thanks for being my wife. Even if it’s only a dream.”

  “No, thank you. For giving me this. I’m never going to forget this night.” My voice shakes.

  “Sage—”

  “Don’t.” I close my eyes.

  “No, you need to listen to me.” He stops dancing and his fingers raise my chin to his face. “Don’t hold on to me and don’t hold on to Star Harbor. Once you know I’m gone, you’ll be safe to go anywhere. And you should.” My heart slows, my stomach aches. “There are people out there who are going to love you. There are people out there who already do.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “You can. Look for the signs, Sage. Follow them. You’re not alone.” Pain, so much pain, destroying me inside.

  “I’ll try.” But I’m not sure how.

  “I love you. Forever and ever, I’ll love you,” he says. My heart beats faster, and he holds on tighter. A clock ticks in my ear, in my heart, in this dream. “I have to go. Please don’t hate me for saying goodbye here.”

  “For what?” I’m drinking in his smell, his voice, his touch. I don’t want to ever forget it. Don’t let me forget it.

  “For saying goodbye now, in the dream. If I say it to you awake, I will never be able to say it.”

  “Then don’t.” He stiffens and exhales. I can feel his heart against mine. It’s skipping beats.

  “Tell me you’ll be okay,” he says. “Please tell me you’ll be okay.”

  “And if I don’t, will you stay?”

  Tension flows between us, the unsaid words swirling with the pain of all that will be left unsaid. The answer he can’t give me. “Just promise me you’ll try, then. Promise me and I’ll promise you. That someday, somehow, I will find you again. On the other side of the stars.”

  I explode inside, ripped apart by the impossible amount of time that separates me from that day. “I’ll be okay,” I lie.

  He pulls me close, his lips on mine. I taste our tears, the sorrow, the grief for all the lifetime of kisses we will go without.

  I blink.

  This time, my eyes are fluttering open to a beach pink with the sunrise.

  Empty of Adam.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Minutes pass. Hours pass. I stay wrapped in the blanket, unable to move, to breathe. Tears press against my eyes. They’re screaming and burning and begging to break loose. But I can’t. Can’t let them. Can’t cry.

  I can’t let it be real.

  I am a ball in the blankets and the sand, sinking into the depth below me. Praying for the wind to blow a fresh layer of sand and dirt. To cover me up. To bury me here forever.

  I could dry up and turn to dust and become part of the beach. Maybe Adam will return someday. He’ll walk across this sand, and I’ll feel his touc
h once more.

  Yes, that’s it. I will wait for him.

  I close my eyes, the breeze tickling my skin. My thoughts are as jumbled as the knots in my stomach, as the tears in my heart.

  My dad. Adam.

  I want to go back to the dream. Maybe if I close my eyes I can drift away. I’m on Mackinac Island. We dance under the stars. He whispers in my ear. The lake fills my ears. Crashing and gurgling. My eyes flicker open.

  The sun is too bright.

  Evil sun.

  There are birds singing.

  Stupid birds.

  I close my eyes again. Pain carves me out inside like I’m a hollow chocolate Easter bunny. The emptiness burns and burns and burns.

  I open my eyes again. The breeze blows in from the lake, dancing across my dry face and assaulting me with the smell of fish.

  Disgusting fish.

  I close my eyes again. Images fill the backs of my eyelids. Crashing planes, empty beer cans, mistletoe. I open my eyes again. They sting, like a thousand bees. I wish I could cry. But there are no tears in me. Just the emptiness.

  I close my eyes again. And I open them.

  I can’t do this. I can’t stay here on our beach anymore. I can’t wait for what I know will never be. I claw the sand and push myself to my knees.

  That’s when I see my finger. Third finger. Left hand. Diamonds glittering in the sun.

  And I cry.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  "Sage." Stella's voice pierces the empty world I created.

  "Go away," I mumble. My voice is thick and rubbery, and my face is tight. Puddles of tears still dry on my skin.

  "I thought I had prepared myself for this moment. But nothing can prepare you for the gut-wrenching pain, can it?" She sits beside me with her knees tucked beneath her. “I’m here, if you want to talk.”

  I turn my head away from her. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to exist.

  Stella sniffles. Shaky and wet and deep. I close my ears to them. I don’t want to hear her pain. It’s only me. Me and this empty beach. I close my eyes. It’s dark behind my eyelids. Dark and quiet and I don’t want to leave.

  Moments pass. Stella’s quiet sobs fill the air around me. I open my eyes to see the sun has risen higher in the sky. I close them again. I want sand and sun and stars. I want to be with him, touching him.

  I want him.

  Stella still cries. I hear the pain in her tears. I know the pain in her tears. But I don’t care. I can’t care.

  A light breeze tickles my dry cheeks. My fingers brush my skin, wiping away tears that aren’t there. Stella is quiet again, only heavy breathing giving away her presence. The air wheezes in and out of her lungs like a silent cry. Pain, so much pain.

  She hurts too. She lost too. Suddenly, I can see the light in her eyes every June when she left to pick Adam up. I can see her laughing with him over a pizza at the kitchen table. I can see her wrapping her arms around him, kissing his forehead, watching him walk out the door.

  She lost him too. I turn my head and grip her hand. She squeezes my fingers hard, like a lifeline. Her sobs return, and she inches closer and stops.

  She holds my hand and gasps. My ring.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” She shakes her head, her gaze trailing to the lake. A few minutes later, her soft, red eyes find mine. There is no smile, just understanding.

  "Adam left you something,” she says. “At the house.”

  "What?"

  “If you come back with me, you’ll see. It’s been a long day for both of us. You can stay with me…if you want?" Her voice shakes with pieces of the strangled cries she holds in.

  I gulp and tug her hand. "Yeah, I’d like that."

  My steps are heavy as I get up, as I leave. Leaving this place, our beach, is impossible. Knowing he will never be here again. I take in a scalding breath and scan the shore where the imprint of our bodies are still etched in the sand. I make a promise.

  I will never return here. Not without him.

  We are ghosts when we reach Stella’s home. She leads me into the kitchen, pushing me into one of the chairs while she fills a teapot with water.

  “You must be freezing, spending all night like that on the beach?”

  I shake my head. I am too numb to feel cold. Too numb to feel anything. She sets a mug in front of me, and I watch the steam spiral and fade into the air. How am I going to do this? How?

  Stella sits across from me and sips from her mug before opening her other hand. It’s my locket. I reach for it, the tiny clasp unbroken.

  “He fixed it,” I say. “Again.”

  “There’s more,” Stella says. “Open it.”

  I open the heart finding the familiar picture of my dad and me. On the other is a new picture. It’s Adam and Lucas and me from the summer we first met.

  “He didn’t want to do it. He was afraid you’d want to hang on or let it hurt you too much. I thought you should have something of everyone you lost, to keep in your heart.”

  “Thanks.” I swallow.

  “I’m really glad you had each other, despite everything.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Stella brushes a tear from her cheek and stands up. “I can get you some clean clothes. Do you mind sleeping on the couch? I-I-don’t think I can bear going into Adam’s room right now.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  She rests her hand on mine. “I’m glad you’re here.” She starts to walk out of the kitchen.

  “Stella,” I say, and she stops and turns around. “Thanks.” She nods and smiles. Sad and weak and tired, but it’s a smile.

  Hours later, after we’ve cried through a dozen Adam stories and relived every summer, I curl onto Stella’s couch and close my eyes. I clutch the locket between my fingers, afraid to let go. Pulling the diamond ring from my finger, I slide it across the chain until it meets my locket.

  And now this fragile chain, broken and healed twice, holds everything that matters to me.

  Chapter Sixty

  It is standing room only at St. Marks, Star Harbor’s only Catholic church. The whole town is here. They’re here because they knew Lucas. They’re here because they didn’t. They’re here to hold up the broken parents who have already buried one son and are about to bury another.

  I sit with Stella. We cling to each other like we have for the past three days. It’s not only Lucas we’re thinking about. My eyes drift around the room from the sobbing shoulders of Lucas’s mother to the solemn expressions of the Star Harbor High football team, and my heart aches.

  They had ruled his death a freak accident. His truck left the road, rolled across rocks and trees and landed upside down in the lake. He was trapped and unconscious, and he drowned. I know the truth. Those last moments replay in my dreams every night. The fear in his eyes and the emptiness. Always the emptiness. I scream for him to wake up, to move, to run. But he never does.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes as the casket passes. As the priest sprinkles holy water. As we stand to sing Amazing Grace.

  Brianna does the first reading. There are heavy shadows beneath her red eyes and her flawless makeup is sticky and cracked. Her voice wavers during the last sentence, and there is a sob caught in her throat. Ashes smolder in me as I remember the day in the bathroom. He’s my sloppy seconds anyways.

  Stella squeezes my hand. The priest shakes the thurible, incensing the casket. And we stand again and sing. The pallbearers surround the casket as it moves down the aisle. Lucas’s parent’s follow, white and lifeless and lost.

  I shatter inside. Sharp, jagged, broken. The pieces of my heart scatter into my veins. They scrape and tear me from the inside out. I wrap my arms around my chest.

  I am so sorry Lucas. So very sorry.

  The casket disappears and the pews empty. Stella wraps her arms around me and hugs me to her shoulder.

  “Shall we go to the cemetery?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But can
you give me a minute?” She cocks her head and there is an uneasy curiosity on her face. “It’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

  She nods and slips from the pew, joining the stream of mourners leaving the church. I watch Brianna a few rows up. Her bowed head, her shaking shoulders, her hushed weeping. Her row is empty, so I sneak out the side aisle and make my way to her side. She looks up when I sit beside her, rivers of makeup streaming down her face.

  “Lucas loved you,” I say. “He wanted you to know that.”

  She gasps, her tears turning into full-blown sobs. I’ve never seen Brianna like this. Never. So broken, so hurt.

  I pop inside. I pop and everything escapes. The rage, the frustration, the hurt. There is nothing left but emptiness. I am tired and hollow and wasted. She’s quiet, I’m quiet, the church is quiet. My eyes drift to the altar, to the ceiling, to the stained-glass windows behind the oversized crucifix. I look back at her.

  “Why do you hate me?” I ask. It’s the question I’ve wondered for years. The one I’ve been afraid to ask. Now it seems insignificant and never so important.

  She stops rocking and wipes more tears away. She looks away from me, to the center of the church. Licking her lips, smearing lipstick onto her teeth. It’s quiet, only us in the church and the silence stretches.

  She’s not going to answer.

  I roll my hands on the edge of the pew about to push myself up when she speaks. She keeps her gaze pinned to the back of the bench in front of us, never swaying in my direction.

  “I don’t hate you. I wish you never came here, that’s all.”

  “But why? What did I do? We were friends, weren’t we?”

  “Yeah, we were.” It’s a breathy laugh laced with bitterness. “But then your mom got her hooks into my dad.”

  “What?” There is disbelief in my voice. But deep inside the dots are connecting. I know she’s right. I’ve always known. There is no proof, but I know.

  “My mom caught them in bed together. In my parents’ bed. She walked in one afternoon and your mom was in their bed with my dad.” My heart shudders and I can’t breathe. I’m sick inside. “My dad left that weekend. My mom threw him out and he packed up and left. And now I see him on the occasional holidays and summers if I’m lucky. He’s busy now with his job and new family, and I’m nothing more than an afterthought.”