Page 46

Wyatt

I walk down the familiar trail, worn from years of use. Leaves from the tall trees above cover the damp ground, and a little sprinkling of snow remains from our first snow of the season.

It’s getting a little too cold to come out here, but that’s never really stopped us before. Stella just stashes more blankets in the treehouse. My heart races, excitement coursing through me at the prospect of seeing her. It’s always this way, no matter if we just saw each other hours ago or days ago. It’s the same level of intensity every time—a burning need to be next to her.

I look up, finally able to see the treehouse I built with my dad years ago. It’s dark, and no light comes from the treehouse, but that’s not unusual. Stella is most likely staring at the stars through a hole I cut in the roof years ago. It’s her favorite thing to do.

We’ve spent hours up in this thing, talking endlessly about our future and staring at those stars. I’m starting to think she enjoys their company more than mine. This is our place, one that very few people know about, and they sure as hell don’t know we’re out here in it most nights.

I smirk as I climb the stairs quickly. As soon as my head pops over the top of the stairs, I see her lying in her spot, perfectly still, her eyes cast toward the sky.

I know she hears me because it’s impossible to sneak up on someone with this rickety wood. As soon as my weight hits it, it groans in protest, but I’m not worried. Over the years, I’ve added wood supports and beefed them up as much as I can .

I crawl on my hands and knees until I get to my spot next to her, assuming my position next to my girl. It’s so quiet that I can hear my breathing and the frogs down below. My pinky reaches to caress hers softly, but something doesn’t feel right. Her skin is too cold.

I lean up on my arm and turn toward her. Her eyes aren’t staring at the stars like I first thought. Her head droops to the side, her eyes unnaturally staring at nothing.

“Tink?” I call out my nickname for her, and my voice shakes as fear takes root in my heart.

When she doesn’t answer or move, I lean over her more while using my other arm to hold myself up. I’ve practically crawled on top of her at this point, and she hasn’t moved an inch.

A feeling I’ve never experienced before consumes me. Sheer terror grips me, causing my ribs to tighten so much I can no longer breathe.

I still can’t breathe as I reach forward, my hand shaking so badly I can hardly will it to do what I need. I clasp her chin gently, my body instantly revolting at how cold her skin feels, and I turn her head toward me.

I scream as the vision before me breaks me in a way I didn’t think was possible. “Tink! Baby! No! God, no! No! No! No!” I repeat the word as I grab her cold, limp body and pull it against mine. I scream once again in agony because this isn’t right. This can’t be happening.

I gently lay her back down on the hard wooden floor, and I feel for a pulse.

Nothing.

I double over, hovering my ear right over her mouth and nose as I stop my own breathing to listen for hers.

A choked, broken sob leaves my chest when I confirm she isn’t breathing.

I place my hands on her chest and administer CPR. Counting each compression out loud so I don’t miss one.

First round, then a second, repeat, just like they taught us in school. After the second round, I lean over and tilt her head back to hold her nose closed as I attempt to breathe life back into her.

Nothing I do works. She lies perfectly still except for the unnatural motion her chest makes with every compression.

Tears spill down my cheeks and land on her chest as I continue CPR until my arms give way.

My chants turn into full-blown sobs when I realize it’s too late.

I was too late.

Stella Russo, the love of my life, is gone.

“ Fuck! ” I startle. My heart races, and my entire body has broken out in a sweat that now chills my skin to the point of breaking out in goosebumps. I swing my legs off the edge of my bed and drop my head into my hands. The image of Stella’s eyes still stares directly into my soul. I can’t unsee them.

Cold.

Vacant.

Dead.

“Fuck!” I whisper more quietly.

Evie whimpers, and I look over my shoulder to see her curl up in a ball. Damnit, I almost woke her. I take the comforter and pull it up over her more before quietly standing from the bed.

I need a minute to calm down after whatever the hell that was, and I don’t need to wake her after struggling to get her to sleep. She’s in this stage where she wants to read six million bedtime stories and be tucked in just right before she finally passes out from pure exhaustion.

I love her with my whole heart, but we just got through her having colic as a baby. I thought we had more time before we lost sleep again.

I look down and notice my hand is shaking. I take a deep breath as I open my palm and close it. Then, I make a fist and place it in my lap.

I hang my head as I wrangle in my chaotic thoughts. Why do I feel like the dream was so real? I can still feel the panic, the pure terror once I realized she was gone.

It’s like I can smell the cold, bitter night and still feel the chill on my skin .

“Wyatt?”

I look over my shoulder and notice her standing in the doorway as the soft nightlight in the hallway illuminates her curvy silhouette.

The door creeks as the old wood protests with the movement of her pushing it open enough to step inside my room.

“Yeah?” I whisper, still worried about waking Evie.

“You okay? I heard you shout.” Her concern is genuine.

“It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, Amelia. You have to get up early.”

She hesitates in the doorway like she isn’t sure if it’s okay to come into my room. She’s been in here plenty of times, so I’m unsure what the hesitation is about. “You sure?”

I sigh because I don’t like lying to her, but this isn’t something I’m willing to talk to her about. Not about Stella. “I swear it was nothing.”

The words sour in my mouth because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Stella means everything .

Amelia looks down at Evie, sleeping soundly. She pads a little closer. “Do you want me to take her?”

I immediately shake my head. “Nah, I don’t want to wake her. I’m fine. I promise.”

She quickly nods and quietly walks backward until she reaches the doorway, grabbing the doorknob to pull it closed behind her. “Night, Wyatt.”

“Night, Mel.”

Once she leaves, I lie back down on the bed, careful not to jostle Evie. My arms lie loosely across my chest as I watch the ceiling fan twirl around and around. Right before I drift back off to sleep, I feel a deep tug in my stomach that calls to her. I can’t explain it, but I think she’s in danger. I feel it in my bones.

It’s a feeling that demands attention.