Page 18 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 2

His hand toyed with my hair as I thought about what he said.

“True. It’s especially hard when it comes from your mother.

I was in college before I had the guts to find a therapist to help me work through it.

It took two years before I started to realize I’d let someone else dictate my entire future. ”

“Who’s dictating it now?”

The question wasn’t pushy, simply curious, but it hit me hard. I moved up and buried my face in his neck again. I didn’t even need to say the words. We both knew the answer wasn’t me. I wasn’t dictating my own future, and that was the true cause of my discontent.

I would have been embarrassed if I didn’t feel so easy in his company.

It was like a time-out from the real world.

It didn’t matter what this semi-stranger thought of me.

He wasn’t critical to my future. I could be myself around him—whatever that meant—and then go back to being the Finn Heller everyone knew and loved when I returned to LA.

But for now, I let myself face the truth.

“I feel like I’m stuck at a crossroads,” I admitted softly into his damp skin. “And there are trains coming from all sides.”

Declan pulled my face away from him so he could meet my eyes.

His smile was gentle and kind. “You know all you have to do is step off the tracks, right? You don’t have to pick one to stay on.

Step off and catch your breath. You’ve been working hard for a long time, Finn.

You deserve some time to figure things out. ”

He seemed so sure of himself, so confident that what he said was true, even though it felt about as far away from true as anything.

“You make it sound so easy,” I said with a laugh, moving to lie down on his shoulder and snuggle into his side. Declan’s arms wrapped around me and held me close.

“No. Not easy. But it is your choice.”

He sounded like he spoke from experience, and I was reminded that he had his own story to tell.

“Why did you leave LA? Did something happen?”

It was like seeing the metal shutters come down on the vegetable market shop down the block from my house. With one quick yank, all of the intimacy that had seemed to be growing between us was snatched away.

“I should probably go,” he said.

I felt like a vacuum had just sucked the happy, relaxed feeling right out of me. In its place was the sharp sting of rejection.

“Oh.”

Declan’s arms loosened around me, and he moved to the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

Fucking hell. No fucking way. I was not a pity fuck who was going to cry when this man walked out while his taste was still salty on my tongue.

I waved my hand numbly in the air. “Yeah, no. It’s… I need to get some sleep anyway. Big day tomorrow.”

You called me beautiful. Inside and out. I twisted my tongue between my teeth to keep from saying it out loud like an accusation.

He glanced at me. This time the unspoken words between us were arrows with poisoned tips. “Finn…”

I cleared my throat and plastered on my media smile. “No, it’s cool. Thanks for the beej, Dec. I really needed that. Kept me from taking Kix up on his offer. He’s fucking good at it but then wants to stick around and talk my damned ear off. No, thanks.”

Declan’s nostrils flared as if he smelled the lie for what it was, a desperate attempt to downplay how much this had meant to me.

“Happy to be of service,” he bit out before standing up and grabbing the pieces of his uniform.

I clenched my fingers into tight fists in the bedding until my knuckles turned white. All I had to do was hold it together for three more minutes until he bolted out of there.

He shoved his legs into his uniform pants and yanked them up, closing them with quick, efficient movements. Sheriff Declan Stone, quick and efficient even in the way he hooks up with men.

Great.

After he left the bedroom to search for his shirts, I rubbed my face in my hands and muttered a curse. But then he came back for one last word.

“Don’t fucking hook up with that jackass,” he warned, pointing his finger at me. “You hear me? Don’t do it.”

I felt myself gawp at his surprising command, but before I could shake myself out of my shock enough to tell him he wasn’t the boss of me, he’d stormed out and slammed the door to the chalet with one last bossy statement about making sure I locked it behind him.

For some reason, that last bit made me laugh. Even when he was a total controlling asshole, he cared about the safety of the people around him.

Fucking Christ.

At least the laughing kept me from crying like a damned baby.

The following day, I woke up with a newfound desire to stop letting other people’s image of me define my own.

Over the course of a long, hot shower, I reminded myself I wasn’t the spoiled young celebrity Declan thought I was.

I also wasn’t the experienced stuntman Nolan was trying to convince everyone I was.

And I wasn’t the social player Kix wanted me to be.

Most importantly, I wasn’t the blockbuster-seeking actor my mom had raised me to be.

So then who was I, and what did I want?

One of the answers came to me by accident.

Instead of wallowing in my recent rejection and eating a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast, I made my way to the diner in town. I was starving after skipping dinner the night before, and I’d been relieved to see Declan had somehow arranged to return the McLaren to me overnight.

When I got to the diner, I shoved my hair under a ball cap and kept my head down, asking quietly for a booth in the back.

It was clear the older man who’d greeted me knew who I was, but he seemed to read my mood.

“Maybe sit on this side,” he suggested casually, pointing to the bench that faced the back wall instead of the one that faced the rest of the diner.

I shot him a grateful look and took a seat.

When the man came back with a steaming pot of coffee and a sweating glass of ice water, I smiled in thanks and ordered the big breakfast special. I scrolled through my phone while I waited and tried not to eavesdrop on the teenager sitting behind me whispering furtively into the phone.

“Dude, they’ll kill me if they find out I’m failing summer school, too.

It doesn’t even make sense to have Mr. Reyes for the same damned Shakespeare unit I failed during regular school.

If he didn’t explain it right the first time, how am I supposed to learn it in summer school?

I’m fucked. My dads are going to freak out.

They won’t let me keep working at the diner if I can’t pass this class, and then I’ll never be able to buy a car. ”

My ears perked up when he mentioned my favorite topic. How could someone have trouble with Shakespeare? There were like a million resources online to help.

I wanted to butt my nose into his conversation, but I kept my mouth closed. It was none of my business anyway. I went back to scrolling social media.

The older man delivered my food a little while later, and I realized the kid was back working behind the counter.

He was tall and lanky with dirty blond hair and a friendly smile for everyone.

It didn’t take long to figure out my server was one of his dads.

The man beamed at the kid with a kind of affectionate pride I’d always imagined my father would have for me if he’d ever known I existed.

Something about this little family made me feel wistful, and I suddenly wanted to help the young man discover the joy and intricacies of Shakespeare. I hated hearing someone think of it as a chore when it could be so much fun.

I waited until his dad went back into the kitchen before waving my arm to get his attention. The kid came over right away with the coffeepot. “Ready for a refill?”

When I lifted my head, I saw the moment he recognized me. He did a quick blink of surprise before getting his expression under control. “Or can I get you anything else?”

I smiled in thanks for his not treating me any differently.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could help you,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“I overheard you earlier, which I’d apologize for if you hadn’t been sitting six inches away from me.

I happen to love Shakespeare and have studied the man and his works for years. ”

The kid’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered. “Sorry about that. I… probably sounded like an idiot.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. It’s not easy to learn something if you don’t gel with the teacher. And, hell, maybe you won’t gel with me either. But I’d like to try. To teach you. If… if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He looked too surprised to respond, so I held out my hand. “My name is Finn.”

“I know.” He shook it without thinking and then quickly added, “I’m Solo. Well, Solomon, but everyone calls me Solo. Pim and Bill are my dads. They own the diner. You probably already know that, and now I’m making a fool out of myself.”

I grinned at him. “Not at all. But don’t feel obligated to say yes. I know it’s weird that I even offered, but… Shakespeare’s kind of my thing.”

“But you were in that SEAL movie. That was badass,” Solo said.

I loved that he immediately went to that rather than my time on Cast in Clover . It was a testament to his age.

“One of my lines in that film quoted Shakespeare,” I said.

“When I’m rallying my team for our final push to defeat the enemy, I say, ‘Once more into the breach, my friends.’ The actual line is a little different, but that’s from Shakespeare’s Henry V .

His body of work was so influential and comprehensive, it’s still being used and referenced today.

That’s why we study it in school. It’s one of our culture’s secular bibles.

Biblical stories like David and Goliath represent concepts in our daily lives regardless of whether or not we’re religious.

It’s the same with Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet represent star-crossed lovers, irony, and the toxic effects of long-running feuds. It’s…”