Fallen Stars

Book 3: Stone Bay Series

by Persephone Autumn

Genres: LGBT & Pride; Small-town Romance; Romantic Suspense; Dark Romance; Romantic Suspense; small town romance; MM Romance; rockstar romance; Best Friends to Lovers; fake dating; mutual pining

Synopsis

An MM, friends to lovers, small town romantic suspense from USA Today Bestselling Author Persephone Autumn.

 

From the start, all I wanted was you. From the start, little did I know, you wanted me too.

 

An underlying current has always existed between us. An undeniable bond that keeps me tethered to my best friend. My person.

The man I have loved in secret for years.

I’ve wanted to tell him how I feel. Countless times, I’ve considered crossing the line but have resisted.

 

I’d rather love him in secret than lose him forever.

 

Over the years, we’ve avoided relationship conversations. Kept our rendezvous to ourselves.

But now, the subject is inescapable.

As his family pressures him to find a suitable match, he concocts a plan to appease them. Fake date the wealthy woman his parents set him up with… who happens to be in love with someone else.

 

When he relays the news, my hurt is written all over my face. Over and over, he promises me it’s not real.

Regardless, seeing them together twists my insides.

 

…until he pins me against my car and shows me where his heart truly lies.

 

As our love story begins, one test after another is thrown at us. As we fall deeper in love, our world becomes a living, breathing nightmare.

Release date: June 27, 2024

Publisher: Between Words Publishing LLC

Print pages: 380

Content advisory: human trafficking, physical and sexual assault

Sample

Prologue

Oliver

 

Past—Age 16

 

Every damn day, I fight like hell to not stare at him. Levi West. My best friend. The one person I feel most at ease with. And one of the few people in town who’s transparent and genuine and accepts me exactly as I am.

What I should do is look away.

What I shouldn’t do is ruin our friendship.

But fuck is it hard to focus when he’s in the room.

Hitting pause on the game controller, I toss it on the table and lean back in my gaming chair. An arm’s length away in the second gaming chair, Levi types furiously on his laptop, his eyes hyperfocused on the screen.

When he’s like this—rapt and in the zone—it makes not staring at him more of a challenge.

“Mind if I work on a song?”

His fingers pause and hover over the keyboard as my question registers, then his fingers fly over the keys again. “Not at all.”

I pop open my guitar case and take out the acoustic guitar that’s seen more of the world than I have.

A gift from Grandpa Giuseppe, I tend to play this guitar more in private or around people I trust. In mint condition, I have this irrational, niggling fear of damaging the antique instrument. Not that anyone has messed with my shit before but this guitar is irreplaceable.

Bowing over the guitar, I close my eyes and strum the strings as the fingers of my other hand slide along the neck. A soft, slow, intimate melody floats through the air, but I don’t dare sing the few lyrics I’ve paired with it aloud. Words packed with longing and lust and a hint of desperation.

I keep those words bottled up. Sealed tight and shoved in the furthest recesses of my mind.

Because giving those words a voice would change everything.

I’d rather have Levi as a friend, my best friend, than not have him at all.

Opening my mouth and spilling secrets to him would flip our worlds upside down. Forever alter our friendship, and unlikely for the better.

“Fuck, yes.”

I stop playing, lift my chin, and lock onto Levi’s profile. A devious smile tugs up the corner of his mouth as he stares at the computer screen.

Levi doesn’t smile often. Most mirror the one on his lips now—minimal, dubious, vain. Not because he’s an asshole or thinks he is better than anyone. No, this smile is for those moments when he sticks it to the man.

As for his other smile, I’ve only seen it twice.

The first time was when he hacked into the health teacher’s laptop remotely and fucked with the PowerPoint presentations during sex education week. He’d ducked his chin and pressed a hand to his mouth, but not before I saw that brilliant smile.

And the second time, it was in my garage last month.

A friend from music class suggested we start a band with his girlfriend. All three of us play guitar, but I also have a love for drums. Before our first jam session, we discussed the style of music we wanted to play. It didn’t take long for us to agree on our passion for rock music. Shortly thereafter, I sat behind my drum kit while Trip and Hailey shouldered their guitars.

And then the garage rattled with the thumping bass and wail of our instruments as we played a song from an early Nirvana album. It had been pure bliss.

Or so I thought.

Until I peered up and was captivated by the massive, blinding smile on Levi’s lips. Aimed in my direction.

Fuck… I see that smile every time I close my eyes now. I jerk off to that smile no less than three times a week. I lose myself in fantasies of the future because of that damn smile.

My lungs expand as I silently, slowly suck in a deep breath. Swallowing on the exhale, I set my guitar down. “Wreaking havoc on the town?”

Smile still firmly in place, Levi twists in my direction and cocks a brow. “Nothing that’ll burn it down.” With a shrug, he averts his gaze back to the screen. “Just deactivating security cameras and alarms in town hall.”

Eyes wide and jaw slack, I stare at his profile in pure awe.

A true mastermind, Levi’s ingenuity is unmatched. Not many are aware of his level of talent. Not many comprehend the machine that is his mind. He has the ability to dismantle the most secure computer systems created with a few lines of code.

Hell, I don’t completely understand it. Not that I need to.

I see the real Levi. The complex guy with an endless labyrinth for a mind. The guy always in his head, deciphering what he sees into bits and pieces rather than taking it in as one whole object.

“On a mission to piss off your dad?” I chuckle.

It’s no secret that the West family—one of the Stone Bay founding families referred to as the Seven—has taken on a mayoral role more years than not in Stone Bay. Oftentimes, they rotate through which West will hold the seat. Not that the residents don’t get a say or vote. They do. But it’s rare to have anyone run against the West family for the position.

As of now, Jefferson Thornhill-West is in the running for town mayor. Not that he has much competition.

No surprise to anyone, Mr. West is on a mission to shape Levi into someone he’s not. All in the hopes that Levi will one day step into the role as mayor, keeping the West name high in the town ranks.

Politics and superiority aren’t priorities for Levi, though.

If anything, Levi wants to tear the world apart and put it back together better than it was.

“Pshh.” Levi shakes his head. “Is there anything I do that doesn’t piss him off?”

I’ve known Levi long enough to know his question is rhetorical. So I wait for him to continue.

Levi scoffs. “Did I tell you what he said the other night?”

I jog through my memories over the past week and come up blank. “No. What’d he say?”

Closing the lid on his laptop, he sets it aside and reaches for a game controller. “‘You’re a dead weight bringing this family down. That changes after graduation,’” he says in a mocking tone. He holds his hand high and flips his middle finger up at the bedroom door. “Fucking asshole. As if he’s God or some shit.”

Living under the roof and thumb of generations of town founders is something I will never fully grasp. His frustrations, I get. His anger at his family for trying to mold him into someone he’s not, I comprehend. But bearing the burden of an invisible crown, carrying the weight of generations’ egos on your shoulders, is far beyond my reach.

All I can do is be here for my friend. In whatever way he needs.

Even if it isn’t in the way I want or need.

Levi resumes playing the game and I pick up my guitar and play the song from the beginning. Humming to myself, I recite the lyrics in my head.

You’re a brand on my heart, a tattoo on my soul.

You hoard all the game pieces, tight fists of control.

The darkest of shadows, please let me be your light.

I’ll take the long road, forever on your right.

“That new?”

I startle in my seat as my eyes shoot to Levi. “What?”

Eyes focused on the screen as he plays the game, he tips his head in my direction. “The song. Is it new?”

Shit. Did I sing it out loud?

“Kind of…” I say with zero confidence.

I study his face for any indication I did more than hum the lyrics. Had Levi heard the lines of the song, I’d be answering a different set of questions. An endless inquisition over who the song is about.

But his expression is passive, his frame relaxed as he taps various buttons on the controller.

“Just something I’ve been toying with in my spare time,” I clarify.

He widens his legs and leans back into the chair farther. With that simple move, my gaze drops to his legs, slowly traveling up his thighs until I reach his crotch. Saliva pools in my mouth and I swallow as my dick twitches against my leg.

Don’t fuck up your friendship to appease your dick.

“It’s slower than what you usually play.” His frame stiffens as he jerks the controller right and smashes a combination of buttons. A beat passes before his whole body relaxes again. “Like a ballad.”

At this, I tense.

Essentially, a ballad is a love song, no matter the genre of music. And that’s exactly what that song is… a love song. Written for him. That I’ll never sing in the company of others.

Needing to shift the direction of the conversation, I do what I do best. Mask my feelings with humor. Or at least what I consider humor.

I set the guitar back in the case, twist in my seat, and arch a brow. “Are you saying I’m the next rock ballad legend? That I’ll be on the wall next to Queen, Poison, and Led Zeppelin?” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Now that I’m rock ‘n’ roll royalty, you should cater to my every whim.”

Levi snorts. “Didn’t take long for that to go to your head.”

“You said it, not—”

A voice in the hall cuts me off. Thick with false authority, Levi’s dad argues with whoever else is in the hall. The other person talks softly enough to not be heard, and I assume it’s Levi’s mom.

“He will not sit in this house all day and play video games. It’s time he grows up, Felicity. Not fuck around with his queer friend.”

“Jefferson,” his mom scolds loud enough for us to hear. “Oliver is not the problem. And Levi deserves time for himself before he leaves for college.”

The muscles in Levi’s jaw flex as he tosses the controller down and curls his fingers into fists in his lap.

Unfortunately, this is nothing new with his parents. His dad spends every minute they’re together shoving his ideologies down Levi’s throat. Then his mom swoops in, telling  Levi he can be whoever he wants and not to worry, that she’ll deal with his dad.

It’s this vicious cycle filled with stress and agony, followed by alleviation and temporary bandages.

“College.” His dad scoffs. “Are you aware of how many times I’ve called the dean of admissions?” A pause of silence. “Five, Felicity. Five goddamn times.”

“Lower your voice and don’t speak to me like that.”

A mumble filters through the door and I assume his dad is apologizing. “Political science should be his major. He should be focusing on what’s best for this family.” His voice rises again. “Instead, he’s switched his major to computer information technology. Every time I have it changed, he has it switched back.” He huffs loud enough to be heard through the wall. “I’m done with his juvenile behavior, Felicity.”

Every cell in my body rushes to my arms and hands and begs me to reach out and comfort Levi. To tell him he can do whatever the hell he wants with his life. That he has the right to choose his own future.

But I clasp my hands in my lap. Focus on the stretch and sting of my knuckles as I resist.

“Your word is not law, Jefferson,” his mom declares. “The hyphenated addition to your surname does not make you above the law.” Seconds tick by in silence, and I hold my breath. “You bear my name, Jefferson. Do not abuse it with your ego.”

Oh shit.

A mumble floats through the air a moment before Levi’s door swings open and his dad enters the room. Cheeks flushed with anger, Jefferson straightens his spine and looks down at Levi, whose eyes are on the television.

 “Say goodbye to Oliver,” he states with practiced control. “The Calhouns and Kemps will be joining us for dinner soon.” His eyes flick to the screen. “The time for games is over.” He swings his gaze back to Levi. “You’re an adult now. Start behaving as such. Clean yourself up and be downstairs in thirty minutes.”

I drop my gaze to Levi’s hands in his lap and watch as his nails dig into his palms. Obvious to anyone paying attention, rage oozes from his pours.

Under normal circumstances, Levi is chill. He’s the quiet observer in the room. The one person you think is bored or uninterested. In reality, he picks up on every minor detail and only gives his attention to what he feels matters.

More often than not, people take advantage of him. They take all he has to offer for granted.

As much as I want to defend him in this moment, as much as I want to rise up and tell his dad to go to hell, I sit in silence and wait for Mr. West to leave the room. Because if I get up now, it will only provoke a yelling match between them.

“Not in the mood to schmooze the townsfolk,” Levi mutters.

His dad steps farther into the room, closes the distance between him and Levi, and bends down to hover just above Levi’s head.

“I really don’t give a damn what you’re in the mood for. You’re a West and you’ll behave as you’re told.” He straightens his spine and aims his attention my way. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

“No, Ollie. Stay. The dick-swinging contest is always a good laugh.” Levi tips his head back and sneers at his dad. “Plus, we aren’t done hanging out.”

Perspiration dampens my skin as my heart pounds in my chest.

It’s not the first time I’ve been figuratively trapped between Levi and his dad. I doubt it will be the last. Regardless, it makes me want to shrivel in the corner.

Levi’s dad stares down at him with nothing but fury. “Thirty minutes,” he grits out. “Be downstairs. Preferably with a better attitude.” The hint of a devious smile tips up the corners of his mouth. “Jasmine, Sara, and Abigail will be joining us as well.” His gaze flits to me for the briefest of seconds before returning to Levi. “Fine young ladies.” He spins on his heel and starts for the door. “Who knows. One of them may be your future wife.”

A spasm ripples through my body at his words.

The hasty glance my way, his comment in the hall minutes ago, the bite in his voice as he said future wife… it was all intentional. Mr. West brandished a sword in the form of words and ran it straight through me. He did it to hurt me and piss off Levi.

“I should go,” I mumble after Mr. West walks out the door.

A groan echoes through the room. “Ignore him, Ollie.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and type a text to my mom, asking her to pick me up. Seconds later, she responds that she’s on her way.

Sifting through my backpack, I double-check I have everything I brought over. Then I secure it on my shoulder, bend down to grab my guitar case, and pause a few feet from Levi.

“Sorry you’re dad’s an asshole.”

I lift my gaze from the floor to meet his and my mouth goes dry. Luminous blue eyes with that small hint of green around the pupil lock onto my darker greens and hold me captive.

My limbs are lead weights; my feet rooted to the rug. With one look, with that look, every rational thought vanishes from my mind. My tongue is heavy in my mouth.

I should leave before I say or do something stupid and irreversible. I should walk away before I ruin our friendship.

But the way he’s looking at me… it’s like he’s reached inside my chest and wrapped his fist around my heart with the promise to never let go.

I need to go. Now.

A half-hearted smile tugs up one corner of my lips. “Text me later?”

He inches forward and rises from the chair. I suck in a sharp breath and step back to add more space between his hand and mine.

“Yeah.” He audibly exhales. “When the circus ends.”

I start for the door but don’t make it far. His hand lands on my shoulder and I stop breathing.

“Seriously, Ollie. Ignore him.”

My back to him, I nod.

“He’s a prick. Don’t let him get under your skin. That’s what he wants.”

I peer over my shoulder. “I know.” I want to add that I hate how his dad treats him. That he shouldn’t put up with his bullshit either.

But I remain tight-lipped.

“Want me to walk you out?” His hand falls away from my shoulder.

Much as I do, I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. Mom should be here any minute.”

I start for the door again. This time, Levi doesn’t stop me.

Just as I pass the threshold, a whispered “Later” hits my ears.

 

***

 

June 28th

 

Today was shit. Well, it wasn’t total shit. It started off great. Like many days, it was just me & L hanging out. Games and hacking and music. What we do most of the time. Also, I saw him smile again. Damn I love his smiles. Sounds immature or silly of me, but his smiles make my heart skip and skin sweaty. Ridiculous, I know. But it’s true.

Then his asshole of a dad trashed it. He stole his smiles. He stole his peace. And it just pisses me right the hell off. L is one the best people I know and his dad treats him like property. Like he doesn’t matter.

He does fucking matter!

And what was that look he gave me before I left? That wasn’t friendship. That wasn’t sympathy. It was something else. Something more. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was me seeing something on his face I’ve wanted to see for months but haven’t.

Other friends have said I’m too young to know what love is. That my feelings for him are just a phase. But they’re wrong. In my own way, I love him. Even if all he sees me as is a friend. His best friend.

L may never be mine, but my heart doesn’t care. I love him. And I will love him in secret and as a best friend if that’s all he’ll ever be.

 

 

One

Levi

 

Present

 

All it takes is a stalker and some serial killers to make every resident of Stone Bay want a security system installed or a private investigator to spy on questionable loved ones.

Shit news for the town.

Great news for Tymber Woulf Security and Investigative Services.

Even better news for my bank account. Not that I need the money. But it is nice to know I have backup funds for the random occasions my father decides to throw a holier-than-thou tantrum and threaten my financial future. A future he technically has no control over.

Five years ago, when I was neck-deep in studying for sophomore finals at college, I met Tymber. In a coffee shop not far from campus, I sipped on caffeine, blocked the world out with noise-canceling headphones, and fixated on my notes. Tymber sat down at the table next to me, opened his laptop, and started futzing with a program he was writing.

When I came up for air and sat back in my seat, I glimpsed his frustration and the lines of code on his screen. Sliding off my headphones, I introduced myself, told him I was studying computer sciences, and asked if he needed help.

Though I’d learned more about computers prior to college, there were some ethical components to the technology that were new.

That day in the coffee shop changed my life. Other than Oliver, I’d never formed such a fast friendship.

Now Tymber is more my brother than my friend.

As for Oliver… our connection has always been stronger than friendship. Indescribable and far from familial. Constant. Intimate.

Shortly after Tymber’s cyber security program took off, he asked if I wanted to join the business. If I wanted to be a part of the next big thing. Fresh out of college and eager to get my hands dirty, I said yes without hesitation.

When he wanted to expand from cyber security to residential, I expressed my lack of enthusiasm. I didn’t want to live in the city—not that being near my father was a better choice. I also didn’t want to do what’s already been done. There was nothing new in home security.

Wanting me on his team and refusing to take no for an answer, Tymber pestered me every waking hour until I agreed. But I had stipulations. The biggest one… I would not deal with customers directly. I was in it for the tech, not the people.

Late last fall, Tymber Woulf Security boomed again.

Wanting a physical location for the ever-expanding business, Tymber mentioned buying land and erecting a brick-and-mortar space in Stone Bay. Though he loved the city, it’d become too noisy, too in your face. And after a long day, all he wanted was quiet.

To sweeten the deal, I told him I’d chip in if he added investigative services. He jumped at the chance.

Just after shit hit the fan in Stone Bay last year, we opened the doors to the new business. With me as a partner with Tymber, I assumed one of the founders would come to us to help investigate the murders.

Not a single one did.

Had they, they would’ve had answers much sooner. There would’ve been less death on their hands.

Live and learn, I suppose.

A knock on my closed office door steals my attention and I growl. Tymber never knocks. He always shoots a text or an IM if he needs something.

“What?” I bark out.

The door slowly opens and a newer employee pokes their head inside. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. West. It’s just…”

When they don’t continue, I peer up from my screens and take in their worried expression. “What?”

They cringe. “I think the server is broken.”

Not fucking possible.

My molars gnash together and I audibly exhale. “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.

They are obviously unaware the servers we use are in the cloud. Yes, in some undisclosed remote location, there are physical machines running, processing, and storing all our data. In a server farm. In a controlled environment capable of handling our programs and networks.

And last I checked, we have more than enough storage and security to meet our needs.

I shove my chair back, rise from my seat, swipe up my phone, and head for the door. “Show me.”

They lead me to their desk and show me how the account they’re working on continues to crash.

Eyes scanning the screen, I find the problem before I reach the bottom. The crashes have nothing to do with servers. They have nothing to do with machines at all. No, the issue is one-hundred-percent user error.

Which irritates me more.

I point out the issue, tell them a resolution, and then remind them of the reference manuals we have readily available for all employees.

Sheepish expression in place, they thank me.

I don’t let it pass so easily. I don’t have the time, patience, or money to deal with incompetent people. Were this a basic job that didn’t require intelligence, I wouldn’t give a shit.

But it’s not.

We deal with private information and people’s safety. Blood, sweat, frustration, and several years of planning built this company. Pleading with and schmoozing high-end clients for years to gain trust was far from easy. But eventually, we won them over and rightfully earned their confidence.

After all the work Tymber and I have put into the business, the last thing this company needs is for shit to go haywire, information to leak, and to be hit with millions of dollars in lawsuits.

I’m not an asshole. But I refuse to put up with incompetence.

“I’m s-sorry, Mr. West. I’ll d-do better.”

Yeah, you will. Or I’ll fire your ass. That’s what I want to say.

Instead, I give a gentle dip of my chin. “See that you do.”

As I turn back for my office, I spot Tymber on the opposite side of the open floor plan. He lifts his chin in way of greeting, then tips his head toward the conference room.

I love what I do, I love running this business with my friend, but damn do I loathe the meetings and office politics. Just let me sit in front of my computer and do what I do best—research and code.

“Wanted to talk with you first.” Tymber closes the door as I pass.

“What’s up?”

Tymber pulls out a chair and sits. Folding my arms over my chest, I stand near the head of the table.

“I need to shift their tasks.” He tips his head toward the large glass wall separating us from the cluster of cubicles in the main room.

“Okay…” He doesn’t need my approval to change employee tasks or workload.

He reaches up, presses his thumb and finger to his brows, then strokes the length of them until he reaches his temples. On an audible breath, his hand falls away. The lines of tension near the corners of his eyes and between his brows steal my attention.

I want to ask what happened. What has him frustrated. But I bite the inside of my cheek and wait. In time and when he is ready, Tymber will share what’s eating at him.

“Got off the phone with a buddy of mine from the city.” He leans back and stares toward the ceiling, eyes unfocused.

Minute-long seconds pass as I wait for him to add more. To clue me in on what has him so distressed.

Did someone pass away? Is he taking leave and putting me in charge of everything until he returns?

Before I agreed to partner with him, we talked about this shit. I don’t want to be the person people come to about petty bullshit.

Technical problems? All good.

Issues requiring sympathy? Not really my area of expertise.

Heartless, I am not. A hermit that speaks when he has something worth saying or is comfortable with the present company is a better description. I’m not not a people person. I’m just selective about who I choose as my people.

“He hired us for investigation work.”

If Tymber is this frazzled after the conversation, it isn’t because his buddy wants to spy on a romantic partner. Whatever this case is, it’s legit. Important. A big deal.

A shot of adrenaline hits my bloodstream and sends my pulse into overdrive. The voice in my head screams in victory as I give a mental high five to the powers that be. It’s about time a substantial job landed in our laps.

The corners of my mouth twitch as I fight the start of a smile. “That’s incredible, T.”

“It is.” He nods. “And it isn’t.”

My enthusiasm dies. “I don’t understand.”

Rolling back his chair, he rises and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m lightening your workload so you can focus on this.”

I nod. “Yeah. Sure, man.”

He levels me with a steady, unreadable gaze. “I’ll explain more after I reassign your work. But Levi…” Swiping a hand over his jaw, he adds, “No one can know what you’re working on.”

Most days, the only person familiar with the tasks on my docket is Tymber. My current workload isn’t classified or hidden from employees. I just don’t make it my business to share every facet of my life—professionally or personally.

“Not a problem.”

On an exhale, he jerks his head toward the door. “Let me deal with them.” Eyes unfocused, he nods. “Meet you in your office after.” And then he disappears from the room.

 

***

 

“There’s been an uptick in missing persons in the Northwest.” Tymber sits in a chair opposite me at the small table in my office. “My buddy in the Washington missing persons division says numbers have doubled in Washington and Oregon since last year.” He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Government funding means limited resources and access.”

A soft growl fills the room.

“And since someone higher up deprioritized the recent missing persons for other tasks, the cases have been left to collect dust.”

My brows pinch in confusion. “So missing persons stopped searching for missing people?”

Exasperation and disbelief mar his forehead as he levels me with his gaze. “Seems to be the case.”

What the actual fuck?

I get that the unit may be overwhelmed. I get that they may have lost funding or staff. But what a piss-poor excuse to stop looking for missing citizens. Seek outside resources. Fundraise to help pay workers. Invite others to aid in research.

But never stop looking.

“What part do we play in this? If they’ve lost funding, are we doing this pro bono?”

“Our focus is one individual in particular. But finding them may lead to others.” Tymber sits taller in his chair and pulls his phone from his pocket. After a few taps on the screen, he sets the phone on the table and spins it to show me the screen. “Sydney Messer. Fourteen years old. Last seen two weeks ago outside a burger joint with friends in the city.”

I pick up his phone and study the photo as Tymber shares more details.

“Her friends got on a different bus, but no one thought anything of it. They’d done it countless times. And her bus was scheduled to arrive at the stop five minutes after the other.”

“She never made it on the bus, did she?”

Tymber shakes his head as his face turns a sickly gray. “No. Her father, James, checked her bus pass when they couldn’t get ahold of her. The last time it was used was on her way to meet her friends.”

I sit back in my seat and lace my fingers on top of my head. “The family is paying us?”

He nods. “I told him it wasn’t necessary. He’s a friend. I’d help without compensation.”

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer?”

He scoffs. “Rich bastard,” he teases then sobers. “I think he thinks if he doesn’t pay us, we’ll stop looking too.”

“Like hell.”

Tymber doesn’t say a word but nods in agreement.

Does the business need money to thrive? Of course. The same as every other business.

But when it comes to the people we call our own, it isn’t about the money. It’s about doing the right thing. And finding this man’s daughter is at the top of the list.

“Do we have more than the picture?” I point at his phone.

Tymber scoots his chair away from the table, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his forehead to his hands. “On the way. James is emailing over everything they have as soon as he gets more from missing persons.”

“Forward me what you already have and I’ll get started.”

College taught me several legitimate ways to work with computers and software. I busted my ass for four years and made several professors proud to call me their student. I have a wall’s worth of accolades praising me for my accomplishments that sit in a box in my closet. Hell, I still get the occasional call from one professor in particular, asking if I’ll mentor a student for the semester.

College was the first place I truly felt accepted for who I was and what I had to offer. It was the first place I felt respected. Most people would show that off by hanging their degrees and certificates on the wall. I keep them stowed away and safe. Locked up tight. They’re worth more than a cheap frame that someone could damage.

In the past twelve years, much of what I’ve learned is from a shit ton of trial and error. Seeing what would happen if I tweaked programs. Digging deep into the development of websites and messing with code, fucking it up for a laugh.

My professors wouldn’t be proud of that.

But with how fast technology evolves, sometimes shortcuts and illegal methods are necessary to get the job done. And in this case, find a lost loved one.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Sent.” Tymber rises from his seat and shifts his gaze to mine, eyes solemn and lips in a flat line. “This case stays between you and me, L. I’ll exhaust my resources and let you know what I find. As far as updating the family, I am the only point of contact for James and Estrella Messer.”

I push up from my seat and head for my desk, ready to start my search.

“Understood.”

“Ultimate confidentiality.”

“T…” I scoff. “Don’t you know? I’m the master of keeping secrets.”

 

 

Two

Oliver

 

A moan more appropriate for the bedroom spills from my lips as I shove another bite of bacon and gouda macaroni and cheese in my mouth. “So good,” I garble around the bite.

Out of the corner of my eye, Skylar shakes her head, then follows it up with a muted snort. “You’re ridiculous, Ollie.”

I swallow the bite, twist in her direction, drop my chin to my shoulder, and smile. “You love my brand of ridiculous.”

Skylar positions a monstrous burger, sweet potato fries, and a milkshake on the table. After she finagles a few things, she holds her phone up high over the meal and snaps a few photos. Sifting through the images and seemingly satisfied, she shifts the food aside.

While she sets up her next shot, I take a long pull of the milkshake. Again, I moan and garner more stares from customers trying to enjoy their lunch.

“Sorry.” I wave to an older couple and the woman rolls her eyes.

Grumps.

After Skylar takes the final photo, she sits in the booth across from me and starts nibbling.

For the longest time, I’ve asked her to take me with her on work photo days. She promised she’d make it happen, but over the last year, something always got in the way. Conflicting work schedules, band practice, plans one of us made with someone else, our friends’ lives being in danger.

But I held on to hope.

Sure, I’ve lived in Stone Bay my whole life. Without a doubt, I’ve probably tried almost every menu item from every restaurant in town. But not once have I gotten to eat a mountain of delicious calories for free. Today, I got to sample two new dishes coming soon to RJ’s Diner and Dive. It’s a win in my book.

“Sky,” I draw out her name after I swallow a bite of burger. “Feels like I never see you anymore. Has Law been cuffing you to the bed?”

A faint dusting of pink colors Skylar’s cheeks and before she says a single word, I already know the answer. Because Lawrence is a kinky bastard.

“Lower your voice, Ollie.” Her eyes dart around the diner to see if anyone is paying us attention. “And maybe.” She tucks her lips between her teeth to fight a smile.

I load up another forkful of macaroni and cheese and bring it to my lips. “That’s what I need.” I narrow my eyes, nod, and shove the bite in my mouth.

Her brows bend inward. “What?”

I wash down the bite with a sip of Cherry Coke. “A kinky father figure.”

Skylar chokes on the food in her mouth and several sets of eyes turn our way. I rise from my seat, move to her side of the table, and smack her back a few times. She shoos me away as her coughing fit dies down.

“Seriously, Ollie?” She takes a long drink of water. “At least wait until I’ve swallowed.”

“That’s what he said.”

Elbows on the table, she drops her head in her hands. “Why do I love you again?”

I hold up a hand and tick off the answers on my fingers. “Because I’m funny, sweet, talented, devilishly handsome, and the best gay friend ever.”

Lifting her head, she drops her hands in her lap. With a subtle tilt of her head, she arches a brow. “I guess so.” She plucks a fry from the plate and slathers it in sauce. “How’re things with Levi?”

It’s no secret my friends are aware of how I feel about my best friend, Levi. On the nights I hang out with Skylar, Kirsten, and Delilah and drink too much or get sucked into their love stories, I spill too much of my heart. Thank goodness what I share is vanilla and common knowledge among our circle.

But the more time that passes with Levi and I as nothing more than friends, the more I dread the possibility of divulging all the things left unsaid.

My friends would never hold my feelings against me or use them as a coercive tool. They would, on the other hand, use what they know to give me a nudge. Push me to talk to Levi and tell him how I feel.

Badly as I’d love him to be more than my best friend, I also don’t want to lose him forever. Opening my mouth and confessing how I feel about him may do exactly that.

So for the past six years—almost seven—I’ve bottled up my deep affection for Levi West.

“Fine.” I slide the milkshake in front of me and take a long pull from the straw. “He’s been working a lot.”

“The new investigation company, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. Runs it with a friend he met during college.”

Skylar’s lips turn down at the corners a moment. “Wish they would’ve been here a year earlier.” Her eyes lose focus as she stares over my shoulder. After a deep inhale, she blinks and meets my gaze once more. “Things might’ve been different for many of us.”

Too true.

Had Tymber been in town even a few months earlier, had the town and police known Levi worked with an investigative team, maybe our town wouldn’t have lost some of its citizens to tragedy. Maybe the culprits behind several heinous acts would’ve been located sooner.

But if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s best not to question what might have been after the fact. All it does is drive you mad.

“Agreed.” My stomach cramps, so I shove the milkshake away. Leaning back in the booth, I give Skylar a sympathetic smile. “But things might not have turned out the same if all that shit hadn’t gone down.”

Skylar mirrors my position across the booth as her brows scrunch together. “How so?”

How do I say this without sounding like an asshole? I don’t think it’s possible.

Fingers drumming against my thigh, I swallow and do my best to soften my voice. “If you were never abducted and the”—I lean forward and barely whisper the next word—“embezzlers were never caught, do you think you and Law would be where you are now? Blissful, living together, and not constantly looking over your shoulder.”

Confusion wrinkles her forehead. “Of course—”

“Would Kirsten have decided between Travis and Ben so easily without her stalker thrown in the mix?” My lips twist up as I shrug. “Probably not. Without the additional stress, she would’ve had more time to get to know Ben better. The pissing match for her affection might still be happening had her stalker not made them go into protector mode.”

Skylar scoffs. “So the intensity of someone’s protection level determines who you love?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe that for a second.” Skylar shakes her head for emphasis. “Chemistry speaks volumes.”

At this, I laugh. Not because Skylar is wrong. Chemistry is vital between romantic partners.

The reason I laugh at her comment has everything to do with Delilah and Phoebe.

For years, their chemistry was one-sided. Delilah never came across as miserable regarding her unrequited love for Phoebe Graves. Occasionally bummed? Yes. Consistently hopeful? Absolutely. But never depressed. Somehow, Delilah knew something would happen between them.

“It does,” I agree. “But chemistry also changes in certain situations. When life gets shitty, you look at the world through a different lens. You also see people in a different light.” I reach for the straw wrapper on the table and roll it between my fingers. “If Dee Dee hadn’t been taken, would she and Phoebe still be in relationship limbo?”

“No, they’d be—”

“You don’t know that for sure.” I shake my head. “Yeah, Dee Dee and Phoebe were headed in that direction. But the possibility of finding her dead in the forest like the others… it flipped a switch in Phoebe’s brain.” I curl my fingers into loose fists, hold my hands up on either side of my face, and pop them open as I make a detonating sound. “Tell me I’m wrong,” I dare her.

“If you’d let me speak.” Her brows shoot up as her lips flatten into a line.

I clamp my lips between my teeth to hide my smile.

“Thank you,” she says after a moment. “And yes, those situations sped up the process of our friends falling in love.” Her attention falls to the table for a beat as she mulls over her next words. When she meets my gaze again, I see the resolution in her thoughts. “I still believe we’d be where we are had those events not happened.” She rocks a little in her seat. “Would it be exactly the same? Of course not. But I firmly believe we’d have the same outcome.”

“Really?”

Skylar narrows her eyes as she studies my face. “Nice try, Ollie.”

I tilt my head. “What?”

With a shake of her head, she mumbles, “Always steering the conversation away.”

From Levi, she means but doesn’t say.

And maybe I am. I don’t see the point in carrying on a conversation that will lead to the same point it always does—my friends giving me that gentle, nonchalant push to tell Levi how I feel.

Bless my friends for wanting me to have the same happiness as them. But it will never happen.

Levi has never seen me as anything more than what we are. Though he hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone, I’m not oblivious to the women he gawks more than in passing. I’ve never seen him check out a guy. Not even a little. If he had, I may not be as hesitant to open up that part of myself to him.

As it stands, things between us are good. Best to keep it that way.

I ignore her comment but do as she says. I steer our chat in another direction.

“Coming to the show tonight?”

Sympathy curves her lips up momentarily. But as quickly as it makes an appearance, it shifts into a bright and excited smile. “Of course. Law and I will be front and center with everyone else.”

“Cool, cool.”

“How many shows are scheduled?”

As I sound them off in my head, I tick them off on my fingers against my thigh. “A dozen or so.”

“All at Dalton’s?”

If we played a dozen shows in our local pub in such a short period of time, the residents would get sick of us. Not that we aren’t constantly adding songs and covers to our roster. But people like variety, and listening to the same band in your favorite hangout would get old fast.

“Most of them. But also a few town festivals. And a couple in Lake Lavender and Smoky Creek.”

“Let me know the dates. I’ll convince Kirsten and Dee Dee we need to be your groupies and follow you town to town.”

I roll my eyes. Opening my mouth, I’m about to tell her how comical that is. But the words die on my tongue as RJ—Ray Jr.—sidles up to the table.

“Skylar.” A wide smile brightens his expression. “How was everything?”

Skylar scoots out of the booth, steps to RJ and wraps him in a hug. “Perfect and incredible, as always.”

His arms tighten around her shoulders briefly before falling away. “Glad to hear.” RJ’s attention drifts in my direction. “And I see you brought an assistant today.”

Rugged laughter shakes his frame, and we join him for a beat.

“Food waste is a disgrace.” I bow my head and then meet his gaze. “Just doing my part, sir.”

Skylar scans the diner. A small crease forms between her brows before she looks to RJ. “Where’s Tré? I didn’t see him when I came in. Usually, he says hi.”

It takes me a moment to remember Ray’s son, Ray III, is often referred to as Tré. Rolls off the tongue easier.

“Surprised Pops didn’t tell you already.” When Skylar doesn’t say anything, RJ continues. “My son, the online food celebrity.”

Chuckles echo around us as the three of us snicker.

Not long ago, Ray III reached stardom online. Through his love for food and natural charisma, he gained millions of social media followers. According to a post, it started as something fun. A spoof created as a dare. But after the video went viral with millions of views, likes, and shares, Ray III gave the people what they wanted. More. He posts titillating cooking videos packed with endless visual innuendos.

“The sous-chef position opened up at Calhoun’s Bistro and Chef Beaulieu requested my boy.” RJ glows with pride as he speaks about his only son. “I miss him like hell in my kitchen, but I’m so damn proud of his accomplishments.”

Skylar gathers her phone and purse. Stepping into RJ’s side, she wraps an arm around his shoulders and hugs him again. “As you should be. How’s Tucker?”

I shove a few more fries in my mouth and finish the last of the milkshake as they wrap up their chat. Scooting to the end of the booth, I wait until Skylar signals it’s time to go.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open my text history with Levi and type out a quick message.

Me: coming to the show tonight?

My focus bounces between my phone and Skylar’s conversation with RJ. When he asks if we want anything boxed up, I lift my gaze and nod. Then I drop my attention back to the screen.

Minutes tick by before his response pops up.

Levi: Wouldn’t miss it

The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I stare at the screen. In my periphery, food is shoved into boxes and then a bag.

“Ready?”

I lock my phone, shove it in my pocket, and meet Skylar’s waiting stare. Rising from the seat, I nod. “Yep. Where to next?”

“Your place.”

My lips push out in a pout.

“Unless you want to sit in Poke the Yolk on your day off.”

“Oh.” I shake my head. For whatever reason, I assumed she wouldn’t visit where I work while I tag along. “Yeah, no. I’m good with skipping.” I hook an arm around her shoulders as we cross the parking lot for her car. “Going anywhere after PTY?”

“Back to the office.”

“Damn.”

She unlocks the car and we slip inside.

“When are you going to the bistro or confection place?”

Calhoun’s Bistro and Calhoun’s Confections are the two high-end food establishments in Stone Bay. Works of art, the meals and desserts will make a dent in your bank account, at least for us common folk.

“Wednesday.”

Of course, it’s on a day I work. I grumble under my breath. “Figures.”

Starting the car, she buckles her seat belt and rolls down the windows. “Promise I’ll bring you goodies.”

“Yeah?”

Skylar puts the car in reverse, but doesn’t ease out of the space yet. Instead, she glances my way. “That’s what friends are for.” She backs out, puts the car in drive, and aims for the lot exit. “Besides, wasting that food is definitely a crime.”

 

***

 

Maybe it’s the warmer weather, maybe it’s the influx of tourists—I have no clue—but for whatever reason, Dalton’s is at capacity tonight. Although not everyone is here to listen to us play, the adrenaline spike at seeing the crowd has me bouncing on my seat behind my drums.

My eyes drift to the table near the front of the stage. Smiles light up my friends’ faces as they chat and wait for us to start. One by one, I scan each person at the table. When I reach the end, my heart plummets.

No sign of Levi.

He promised he’d be here.

Why isn’t he here?

God, how I hate my heart sometimes. Stupid, useless organ. Always sets me up for disappointment.

I don’t need Levi here, but I want him here.

When Levi and I are in the same room, this intense and extraordinary thrill pumps through my veins. Nothing compares to the high I experience when Levi is nearby. But in complete opposition, he also grounds me in a way no one else does. For some inexplicable reason, when he watches me play, it gives me focus. It centers me. His presence pushes me to play better.

The jukebox music abruptly cuts off and everyone in Dalton’s cheers.

The buzz of the crowd fuels me, but I need that extra boost of epinephrine. The surge only Levi delivers.

Guitar hanging across her chest, Hailey steps up to the mic. “Holy shit, Stone Bay.” She shields her eyes and surveys the massive crowd. “I have to admit, this is a bit overwhelming.”

Cheers and whistles echo throughout the pub.

“But I’ve never been shy.”

“I love you, Hailey,” someone yells over the crowd.

Hailey rests a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet. I love you too.” She glances at Trip—who lightly strums the strings of his bass guitar—and jerks a thumb in his direction. “But this guy has my heart.”

A unanimous aww from the crowd fills the place.

She waves them off. “Enough of the sappy stuff.” She plucks a few chords on her guitar. “Who wants some rocking fucking roll?”

The crowd roars at a deafening level and it’s like nothing I’ve experienced. It’s intense, phenomenal and life-altering.

I press the bass drum foot pedal as we prepare to kick off the first song. When Hailey plays a specific set of chords together, it starts a silent countdown between us. Seconds before I lift my sticks to start the song, my breath catches in my lungs.

Weaving through the throng of people, Levi makes his way to our table. The buzz in my chest moments ago amplifies tenfold. And when he glances up at the stage and our eyes lock for one, two, three seconds, time stands still. For a blip in time, the pub, the crowd, my bandmates and friends… it all disappears. For a split second, it’s me and him.

He gives me exactly what I need.

That extra boost.

Him.

On the next breath, I bang my sticks down and start the song. And for the next hour and a half, I casually glance in his direction. Every single time, Levi’s eyes are on me.

Such a simple act, but it’s what keeps me hooked. It’s what gives me hope.

 

***

 

May 3rd

 

Something about tonight reminded me of years ago. Of the days when L & I hung out in his room for hours. Every once in a while, I’d look up from whatever the hell I was doing and notice his eyes on me. There was no longing or frustration or sympathy on his face. Maybe curiosity. Maybe admiration.

But I lived for those moments. Those tiny moments made me believe in the impossible.

We still hang at his place, only now it’s in the pool house. We still do a bunch of the same shit. But it’s been years since he’s looked at me like that. Often and relentless. Like there’s something he’s trying to figure out in his brilliant mind, but he just can’t.

For a while, not having those moments ate at my memories. It sucked away my hope. Until tonight.

I don’t know what the hell made tonight different. I don’t know why he suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off of me. It was addicting as hell. It fed my starved soul. It rejuvenated my hope for more.

L & I are like the tide. Up then down. Certain then questionable. Connected then disengaged. There isn’t any one thing we’ve done—together or individually—to make our friendship… fluctuate like this. It just does. And I’ve gotten used to it. I accept it.

But is it so wrong for me to also want more stability? Is it wrong for me to also want more than what we share? I don’t think it is. Selfish? Yes. But not wrong.

L & I may never be more than this, more than two friends that enjoy each other’s company. This should be enough. This should be fulfilling.

But the way he looked at me tonight… I’d be a fucking idiot to let go of the possibility we could be more. But how long is too long to hold on to hope?