Page 21 of When the Stars Rise

I nod. “Yeah.” I look up at him. “I was just thinking about my parents.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “They’d be so fucking proud of you.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He hooks two fingers under my chin and lifts my face to his, finding my eyes. “I bet they’re watching over you, saying, ‘That’s our girl. Look at her shine.’”

God, I love him for saying that. I hope it’s true. I really do. All I ever wanted was to make my parents proud. I hate that my lastmemory of them is such a bad one. But I always try to focus on the good ones instead.

It’s not that hard. Most of my childhood memories are good.

I think that’s why I pushed Shiloh away. At the time, I felt like she’d tricked me and betrayed my trust. I’ve known Shiloh since I was six. She was a big part of my life because she was Noah’s stepmom. But I’d formed my own bond with her through music. She introduced me to Amy Winehouse and so many other artists who have influenced my music and songwriting—The 1975, Twenty One Pilots, Billie Holiday, Janis Joplin, and so many more.

I thought she was so cool, and I remember telling my mom, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Shiloh Leroux.”

I was around nine or ten. My mom and I were on our way to my dance class. She smiled, but I sensed that she was hurt that I didn’t say I wanted to be just like her.

My mom was an accountant. So was my dad. I wanted to be a dancer. A singer. A star like Shiloh Leroux.

When the elevator doors glide open, I shake off the sadness and square my shoulders, determined to appreciate all the good things in my life instead of dwelling on everything I lost as Noah ushers me through the lobby to the back exit.

My only consolation is that my parents didn’t suffer. Noah told me they were dead on impact, and even though that night is a horrible memory that I revisit in my dreams, it gives me peace to know they were already gone before the car was engulfed in flames.

Noah squeezes my hand, jolting me back to the present. We’re standing next to his bike in the hotel lot.

“Just live in the moment, Hales. Don’t worry about yesterday. It’s over. And there’s nothing you can do about tomorrow. But this moment? Right now? Savor it.”

I study his face, and it feels like one of those aha moments. This is how Noah lives his life. It’s why he takes the risks I wish he wouldn’t.

He’s fully present, living in the here and now while I’m stuck in my head, worrying about what could happen tomorrow or dwelling on the things in the past that I can’t change or undo.

“I want to. I want it more than anything.” I’m not only talking about living in the moment. I’m talking about us. “Sometimes it’s just hard for me.”

“I know.” His smile is soft. “I understand.”

I know he does. We have a trauma bond.

Noah saved my life. I would have died in the fire if he hadn’t dragged me out of the car and carried me up that hill. We went back there on the one-year anniversary. The fire cut a swathe through all the trees and burned everything to the ground. As we stood on that winding road looking down into the deep ravine, my only thought was,How did he ever get us out of here?

Unsurprisingly, it was all over the news, and Noah was touted as a hometown hero. What he did was nothing short of amazing.

He takes the helmet out of my hand, sets it next to his on the seat, and then takes both of my hands in his. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get past that night and your fears. But the best way to honor the dead is to live a good life.”

I nod. I know he’s right, and maybe this is awful, but I’m not thinking about my parents at all right now. I’m staring at his mouth.

I want to kiss him.

An invisible force field draws us closer, and the sun breaks through the clouds as his hands move to my waist. My heart beats faster, and the world disappears.

I lean in, both of us moving imperceptibly closer until our eyes meet, his hazels more green than brown today when thelight hits them. He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and I’m barely breathing as my hands slide up his chest and curl around the nape of his neck like they belong there.

It’s been almost two years since we broke up, and in that time, there’s been no sex and no kissing, but now I’m so blinded with need that I can’t think of a single reason why we shouldn’t be doing those things.

His hands slide down and over my ass, and he pulls me flush against his body. I melt into him, my breath quickens, and I’m a puddle of goo in an Atlanta parking lot. Putty in his capable hands.

His soft, minty breath skates across my skin as our lips almost touch.Almost.

But at the last moment, he rears back, severing the connection, and the moment is lost. It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on my head.