Wild Star: Under the Stars Book 3

by Raleigh Ruebins

  He nodded against me. “Yup. I’ve been here forever. It’ll always be my home. There’s nothing here for me, and I need to get out, but it’s still true.”

  He nodded against me and for a while we listened to the rain, and I watched the gentle rise and fall of his head against my chest.

  “I have a question for you,” I said to him.

  “Oh no. Should I be worried?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” I said, my lips curling into a smile. “I wanna know why you like romances so much. The movies, the books… it’s kinda your thing, huh?”

  “Oh God,” he said, bringing a hand up to rub over his face.

  “Don’t be shy,” I said, touching his chin and turning his face up so that I could see his eyes. He squinted at me as if he was embarrassed by the question. “I’m not judging. I love puppet movies, for God’s sake. You can tell me about the romances.”

  “It’s just a guilty pleasure,” he said quickly.

  “I don’t believe in guilty pleasures,” I said. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything that gives you pleasure.”

  He met my eyes for a moment. “Fine,” he said, burrowing against my chest again, casting his lashes down. “I just… they’re the perfect escape,” he said. “After a long, shitty day of work, or a day when zero animals get adopted at the shelter and we’re short on supplies… I just need to read or watch something that will sweep me away. And God damn it, Casablanca does that for me. Hell, even Sleepless in Seattle does it for me, sometimes.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, and I tried hard not to laugh. I wasn’t laughing at Grey, at all—I was involuntarily smiling because of how adorable it was, and because it made me have a wave of affection for Grey so strong I didn’t even know what to do with it.

  “I get it,” I told him, “I really do. That’s what fantasy novels do for me. I can’t get enough of them. I’ve traveled a lot, but when someone can paint an entirely new world for me… it gets me every time.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. An entirely new world. And… I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love before, so that’s what the romances do for me.”

  The last part of what he said was quieter, and he said it kind of quickly, as if he was afraid to admit it. And to be honest, it was kind of a shocking thing to hear—Grey had never been in love?

  The only thing my brain could think of how to respond was to say, But you’re so lovable.

  But I held that back. I knew how nervous Grey could get, and I was pretty sure that would send him running.

  “You’ve still got time,” I told him, gently, and he hummed a little in reply.

  And shit. As the sound of the rain filled the room again I came to the realization that I’d inadvertently made Grey sad, and that was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

  “Hey,” I said to him. “Guess what?”

  “Hmm?” he replied, soft against me.

  “I’ve still got a few of those ridiculously good mangoes you brought for me. Wanna go have a midnight snack?”

  He pulled in a deep breath, drawing his hand over my chest, and then lifting off of me, sitting up. His eyes were a little dimmer now, devoid of the spark they’d had earlier in the night.

  “Actually, I was thinking I should head home soon,” he said simply, “Chewy’s home all alone.” He stepped off of the bed, still naked.

  I scrambled for what to say. “If… if you wanted, you could always bring her over here for the night. Got plenty of space and food for her.”

  He looked up at me, realizing that I was essentially asking if he wanted to spend the night. I felt a slight blush on my cheeks. For a moment his eyes were wide, almost surprised, but then they fell down to the floor again, looking around for his wet clothes he’d come over wearing.

  “No, I really should just get back.”

  “You don’t have to put those back on, you’ll be freezing,” I said. “You can just take mine for tonight and bring them back sometime later.”

  He picked up his waterlogged hoodie, as if he was considering it, but then put it back down with a heavy sigh. “You’re right. This is still soaked. You sure it’s fine if I borrow yours for the night?” he asked, shooting a glance my way.

  “Of course,” I said. “Not like you’re far away,” I said.

  He quickly got dressed again, and I tugged on my own sweatpants, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “I had an amazing time tonight, Grey.”

  “Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” he replied, finally looking up at me and giving me a tight-lipped smile.

  I felt like the ground had dropped out from beneath me. Where had Grey gone? He’d been so warm, so open and with me, just minutes ago. And now he was the other Grey, all anxiety and haste.

  “I’ll see you, Adam. I’m off work tomorrow for once, so Chewy won’t need a walk ‘til Tuesday.”

  I stood up off the bed, crossing over to the door. “Good night,” I said, and with another quick, nervous smile, he was back out the door, racing over to his house in the light rain, with his pile of soaked clothes in his hand. I watched until he got in his front door, and stood for a moment just looking out at the rain falling in inky puddles on the street before returning back inside.

  I wandered aimlessly back into the kitchen, where the flowers he’d brought me were at the center of the table, a dusting of raindrops still clinging to the petals. The bottle of rum sat next to them, cap off, now emptier.

  The scent of it reminded me of his mouth, now a slowly fading memory. It was stupid, but for stretches of the night I had let myself feel like Grey was mine, and now only a short time later I was reminded completely that he was not. He’d fit so well against me. It had felt as natural as anything, and I’d seen no reason for it to come to an end.

  But now the main room felt empty, the sheets and pillows still askew from how he’d twisted on the bed.

  Loneliness had never been a feeling I’d really struggled with—there was always somewhere new to go, someone else to meet, adventures to be had. But now I’d been in one place long enough to feel what a heavy absence it was after Grey left. I’d gotten used to my little house, simple and quiet and exactly the way I’d wanted it, but now it had shifted: I saw things through his eyes now, like the tapestries on the wall that he’d asked about, and the abundance of gifts he’d given me, scattered throughout the house.

  As I finally lay down, shutting off the light and tucking into the sheets alone, I thought of what he’d asked me about earlier.

  New Mexico had never felt like home to me. Nowhere else really had, either, even though I’d been in many places I’d truly loved, before.

  Fox Hollow was the closest I’d gotten in a long time, but it was still new, different, something I was getting used to. But having Grey there with me had been a step closer, and I knew it, though I’d never admit it to him.

  Because it was too much to tell someone, especially someone you’d only just met weeks ago, that they might be starting to make you feel like you belonged.

  Six

  Grey

  I woke up, still in Adam’s clothes, to the sound of his truck rumbling down the street. I heard it stop outside his house, the car door shutting, then the light squeak of his front door as it opened and then shut.

  Finally I opened my eyes, thrown by how easily I could hear everything that was going on next door, and I quickly realized why—it wasn’t raining anymore; in fact, it was an intensely bright day, sunlight pouring through my window, illuminating the room in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. It dappled across the sheets, my floor, the wall, and judging by its intensity I knew it had to be afternoon already.

  When I checked the time I saw it was already a little after 2 o’clock. Adam must have just come back from work.

  I sat up and found Chewy, sleeping in one of the patches of sunlight, happy and content as I’d ever seen her. It was unlike her not to wake me up early, but I’d taken her outside late last night after leaving Adam’s, so she must have sl
ept soundly the rest of the morning.

  As I got out of bed she woke up, and I took her out back right away.

  The yard looked so different in the abundant sunlight, in a way looking strange to me, like the greens were too vivid, the air too clear. I could smell the grass

  On Adam’s back deck, the glasses of rum we’d abandoned last night were still there. It felt like another world, even though it had only been hours ago, and I’d slept so late my memories of it took on a dreamlike quality: his strong hands, kneading against me, his lips, his cock… his hand in my hair as I heard the deep tenor of his voice resting against his chest.

  I brought a hand up to my shoulder, realizing that there was none of the acute tension I normally felt, just a pleasant background soreness from how thoroughly he’d worked over my skin.

  The night had been nearly perfect, until I’d remembered again who I was, remembered my failed attempts at love and living fully. I’d been slightly embarrassed telling Adam about my proclivity toward romance novels, but even worse telling him about my own life. Because I saw too quickly where it would go: he would feel sorry for me, or I’d feel too sorry for myself, and we’d lose the beautiful night we had, the intense physical connection.

  Because maybe that’s just how Adam was with everyone he’d fucked—but I sure as hell had never experienced anything like it. I don’t think there was anywhere on me he left untouched, and I’d wanted to give him all of me.

  I hadn’t admitted it to Adam, but I’d only ever had one sort-of boyfriend—and Bryce certainly didn’t ever touch me like that. He’d only blown me a handful of times, anyway; more often I’d be the one giving it to him, always worried about what he thought of me. My lack of skills.

  But I hadn’t been able to think about anything last night when I was with Adam. Not a fucking care in my mind, just pure physical bliss, never doubting for a second how into it either one of us was.

  Too into it. Into it enough that I’d let my guard down completely.

  Off at the corner of the yard Chewy looked like she was about to start munching on a big stray leaf, and as I went over to take it away from her I heard the faint sound of guitar coming from Adam’s house. I paused after calming Chewy down, and listened, actually taking a few steps closer to his place.

  It was beautiful, just like I’d heard the other day, the melody floating out into the air. I briefly thought about how I wouldn’t mind hearing that sort of thing every day, but then curbed the impulse of that line of thinking and hurried to take Chewy back inside.

  “Grey, I need to talk to you back in the office—it’ll only take five minutes,” Randy said.

  Randy didn’t normally come in during business hours at all, especially not on a Tuesday—he was the owner of Freezy Sweet, and had at least two other businesses to run besides the ice cream shop.

  I nodded at him and set down the cleaning rag I was wiping the front counter with, shooting a glance at Audrey, who just shrugged at me.

  I’d spent the rest of my day off yesterday reading, cooking, then falling asleep early again, clearly needing to catch up on the sleep debt I’d carried for weeks. For the first time in forever, I’d actually come into Freezy Sweet feeling well-rested and ready to go, but seeing Randy there around lunchtime had kind of worried me.

  “How’ve you been, Grey?” Randy said as we stepped inside the fluorescent glow of his small office in the back of the store, and he closed the door behind us.

  “Uh, pretty good… what’s up, Randy?” I said, taking a seat in the creaky office chair across from his desk. I liked Randy—he’d been a friend of my mom’s for a while—but we typically didn’t talk one-on-one very often, and it felt a little awkward.

  He took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. He looked up at me, seriously, with a set in his jaw.

  “I don’t know how else to put this, so I’m gonna just come right out and say it,” he said, looking up at me. “I’m closing the shop,” he said simply.

  I blinked at him for a moment. “This shop?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re closing Freezy Sweet?”

  He nodded again, leaning back in his seat and puffing out another breath. “It’s been in the works for the past year, but I needed to be sure before I told you anything definitively.”

  I sat back slightly, my eyes falling to the floor, kind of unable to process what he was telling me.

  “Now, I know you rely on this job a lot, and that’s why I’m giving you plenty of advance notice. We’ve still got three months before we’re closing. That should be plenty of time for you to find something new, and I’m gonna talk to Jack down at the warehouse and see if he’s got anything opening up soon. I want you to do well, Grey. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

  I swallowed hard, and brought a hand up to my forehead. “Three months,” I said.

  He just nodded.

  “Wow,” I said, “Wow.” I felt like I had ice in my veins.

  “Like I said, I’m gonna do everything I can to help you get another job. You’re the most loyal employee I’ve ever had, Mr. Foster, and I’d be proud to recommend you to anyone.”

  “Of course—thank you, Randy—” I said. “Why are you closing?”

  He sighed and shrugged. “I’m gettin’ older, and running multiple businesses isn’t getting any easier. This store is one of my lower revenue streams, and it’s just… it’s time for it to go.”

  I nodded solemnly, feeling like my future was stretched out in front of my eyes and it was just a big fat bunch of nothing. When I realized there really was nothing else for him to tell me, I slowly got up out of the chair. As I stood up the chair clattered a little against the floor and I quickly straightened it out.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, I… I guess I’ll get back out front, we’ll probably get a rush soon—”

  “That’s okay, Grey,” Randy said, holding up a hand. “Go on home, or talk to your mom if you need to. There’s only a few more hours left of your shift—I’ll take over for you this afternoon. I know this is a lot for you to hear.”

  Finally I met his eyes. “Really?”

  He nodded emphatically. “Of course. Go home. You’ll still get paid for these three hours. Do whatever you need to do.”

  I took in another shaky breath. “Okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.” The ice in my veins had given way to a numbness, like I wasn’t even really in my body.

  “Hey,” Randy said, standing up and giving me a look. He crossed the small office and brought me into a tight hug. “It’s gonna work out okay,” he said, and I nodded against him. “You’re a good kid, Grey. You’ll bounce back quick.”

  I exited out the back door of the shop, out into the blinding sunlight. It was the second day in a row with barely a cloud in sight, so uncharacteristically sunny in the Pacific Northwest, and it only added to the sense of vertigo at hearing what I’d just been told.

  And I throttled head-first into a wave of panic. My heart raced, and immediately all I could picture were all of my expenses: my mom, my bills, Chewy. Randy had been nice enough to give me an hourly wage that was a couple dollars more than my job should ever be worth, because he knew me and liked me, but I didn’t know how the hell I’d survive if I worked somewhere that paid less. I had no qualifications, no experience anywhere but in food service, and there sure as hell weren’t many places I could work around the area.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my hands to the back of my head and stretching. Dread bubbled inside me and for a short moment I considered going back inside and asking Randy for a cigarette, knowing he was a smoker—but I backed myself down, knowing that I didn’t need to go down that road, that the last thing I needed was to start smoking again and hate myself for yet another reason.

  No. I didn’t need a crutch. I needed to think.

  I had walked to work that morning, since it was beautiful out and for once I’d woken up ready to start the day.
I briefly considered taking the bus back home but realized that I should take the walk back home again, clear my head, figure out what the fuck I was going to do.

  As I started the walk back around to the main road, gravel crunching under my feet, I realized with a start that I had worked at Freezy Sweet for 5 years.

  Five whole years of my life had gone by, and I didn’t know what I even had to show for it. I’d been able to pay all my bills on time, and I’d never missed one of mom’s payments—but even that had been a struggle, and when I tried to take stock of what had happened all I could see were bits and pieces of the last 5 years: a sick cat I’d adopted and had passed away. A brief spell of happiness when I had dated Tara and then an even briefer, less genuine one with Bryce. My mom getting sick and the medical bills only adding up. Rescuing Chewy from the shelter when no one else would take her.

  But mostly, just day after day of the same: going to work at Freezy Sweet, sometimes volunteering at the shelter, taking care of my mom, and then going home and passing out. The only isolated times I’d been out of the town were a quick trip to Portland with a friend who’d since moved away, and then a weekend in Seattle with Tara’s parents.

  But halfway through my walk home, something dawned on me.

  It started as an inkling, and quickly grew to something bigger as I turned over the idea in my head.

  What if this was my chance?

  What if finally, this was the push, the impetus to get me out of Fox Hollow?

  As soon as I’d even had the thought, my instinct was to push it down—I knew how hard it would be to leave, and how it may be even harder to find a job and apartment if I went somewhere like Portland.

  But… what if I tried?

  Thinking of it made me somehow both more scared and alleviated my panic at the same time.

  I walked the rest of the way home in a flurry of thought, almost so preoccupied that it was dangerous—I had to pay extra attention crossing the roads because I was so caught up thinking I almost stepped in front of a turning car.