Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  Wanted to fucking blaze a path of carnage.

  But I held it. Bottled it. Let it feed the determination that lined every muscle in my body.

  Lyrik slowed a little more, on guard, silently angling his head to the right at the house that sat on the corner of two streets.

  It faced out to the road to the right, blips of the backyard visible through the broken-down planks of rotted wood that was meant to serve as a fence.

  Knee-high weeds filled most of the lot. A dilapidated shed was at the very back, roof caved in at one side. But it was the tiny glimpse of a new but plain white SUV parked haphazardly off to the side that sent a dagger of aggression through my soul.

  My entire being lurched forward a step, but it was Lyrik who was putting out his hand against my chest, a silent, “Stay cool,” mouthed from his lips.

  Cool.

  Not possible.

  It wasn’t like he was any closer to managing it, either.

  His entire body vibrated with madness.

  It only amplified tenfold when there was a sudden wail echoing from the house. Distorted and blunted.

  Muted.

  But there all the same. I nearly cracked because there was no length that I wouldn’t go.

  This time it was Brax who stepped in. He gestured with his chin to Lyrik, letting his line of sight glide to the back fence. Lyrik nodded, slinking that way, gaze darting everywhere before he scaled over the top. Landing silent on the other side.

  Nothing but stealth.

  Braxton edged through the side of the front yard. I followed, sound of my boots barely crunching under me, my pulse so loud I was sure that was what was going to be what gave us away.

  We pressed our backs up to the side of the wall, searching that we were clear before we started to slip around to the front.

  Breaths shallow and ragged as we waded through the disturbance.

  Terror seeped through the crumbling walls, and there was another mumbled cry.

  Greyson.

  Greyson.

  My heart clutched. Fisted and throbbed and nearly bolted from my chest.

  Braxton felt it, sensed me getting ready to slip, and he cut me a look, his gun steady in his hands as he pressed close to the wall while mine was shaking.

  Finger on the trigger.

  Swinging his head around a fraction, he peered through a crack in the window.

  Could tell from the way his spine went rigid that we had a confirmation. They were inside.

  My guts twisted and my spirit screamed, taking over. Nothing left but this determined desperation.

  He gave a sign for me to round to the other side so we would be surrounding them.

  I eased that way, shaking and shaking.

  I slipped around the other side of the house, peeked up through a window into a vacant, destroyed kitchen. Cupboard doors hanging from their hinges, garbage strewn, broken dishes left behind like the evidence of the hopelessness that leaked from inside.

  The broken window had been left open a crack.

  I nudged it farther, and I hiked myself up and slipped inside.

  I landed on my feet, cringing when the impact made a small thud.

  But that chaos raging from inside was louder.

  Bleak and tortured.

  I kept my footsteps as quiet as I could, inching for the open archway that led out to the living room.

  Whimpers bled into my ears, the taste of terror on my tongue.

  Nearly dropped to my knees when I pressed my back to the wall and peered out.

  Memories flooded my mind.

  Blinding.

  Gutting.

  Horrid and vile.

  Morgue.

  The same one who’d killed my family. The same one who’d let go of a spray of bullets when I’d gone after him and Nixon the first time. Motherfucker had been the one to postpone my intentions. Hitting me five times on my side. I’d almost died. Probably would have if it hadn’t been for the unrelenting need for retribution.

  It was the same man as I’d seen out in Lyrik’s yard that night.

  Same one who was looming over Nixon and Mia right then.

  Wickedness blazed back.

  Evil hovering in the room.

  I could barely see her, her back to me where she was tied to a chair facing away. Her hair mangled and her head slumped forward.

  But I could feel her.

  The girl the storm inside of me.

  Light. Light. Light.

  Nixon was to her right, hands tied in front of him as he spouted his bullshit. His reasons why he wasn’t guilty. Putting the blame on someone else.

  Fuck.

  I’d thirsted to put a bullet in that motherfucker’s head for so long. The wrath that had consumed. My entire reason his end.

  But the only thing I could discern right then was getting Mia free.

  Safe.

  Nothing else mattered.

  I caught Braxton’s eye where he was kneeled down low, hidden by a short wall that created a foyer at the front door.

  He rested his hand on his thigh, giving me a countdown. Three, two . . .

  I tightened my hold on the grip of my gun, trying to keep my ragged breaths steady. To keep quiet.

  Ready to strike.

  I counted down to one in my head when the little voice filled the space, “Uncle, I got you.”

  Greyson.

  Shit.

  Could hear rustling get louder from the back of the house, the quickened pace of energy, and I knew Lyrik was trying to shush him, keep him quiet, get them out, and the only thing I could think was thank God, thank God he got to the kids.

  But Morgue jerked up his head and started that direction.

  Neither Braxton or I waited for that final count.

  We both swung around, guns drawn, the bastard pinned between the middle of us.

  He calculated, looking for his shot.

  A door banged at the back of the house, and that ferocity shifted, something perfect and relieved.

  Lyrik had gotten the kids free.

  I knew it.

  I knew it.

  And I was trying not to look at Mia while I kept the gun steady. Not to focus on the blood that dripped from the corner of her mouth or the fear and relief that burned from her swollen, beaten eyes.

  But rage.

  It burned.

  So intense.

  So ugly.

  My finger twitched on the trigger.

  “Put your gun down, Morgue. This job is over.” Braxton’s hard voice sliced through the agitated air. The guy shifted his head just a fraction to look at Brax.

  Brax who edged out farther from behind the wall.

  Two of us closing him in.

  That was the second that pussy deadbeat jumped from the chair, knocking it over, running with his hands tied in front of him toward the window to the opposite side of where I stood.

  Running in front of Mia, leaving her sitting there as he dove for the window.

  Morgue spun.

  Shots rang out.

  Piercing.

  Shocking.

  Nixon’s body jerked as he was struck in the back multiple times.

  And I was running.

  Running for Mia as his aimed shifted, my arm outstretched with the gun pointed at him.

  Faster than I could make sense of it and anticipating what was going to go down all the same.

  Because I knew full well if Nixon was gone, he wouldn’t be leaving Mia around as evidence.

  Bullets flew, tearing up the living room.

  And I was pulling the trigger as I dove in front of her, and Mia’s scream was filling my ears.

  Lights flashed through my eyes.

  The blackest blacks and the starkest whites.

  A haze.

  Heaven.

  Hell.

  I flew into her, knocking her chair over.

  Toppling us over.

  Didn’t give a thought to the pain in the front of my shoulder, the darkness that kept
rushing in to steal my consciousness.

  Blood flooding across my shirt.

  Only thing I cared about was getting her untied.

  Freed from her bindings.

  But Mia.

  She slumped to the floor.

  A shattered groan left me, and I frantically rolled her onto her back, holding her face, screaming and screaming as those sable eyes fluttered and her breaths rasped. “No, Mia. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

  Sirens wailed.

  Coming closer and closer.

  “I’ve got to go, man.” Braxton hesitated for a second, looking to the door, before he bolted as the sirens grew closer, leaving two bodies at his feet behind.

  But none of that mattered.

  Just her.

  Mia.

  My angel in the attic.

  The purpose I’d never anticipated.

  My reason I’d never seen.

  Not until the second she’d crashed into me.

  * * *

  “I’m fine,” I grunted through the shock of pain, shoving my arm back through my bloodied shirt.

  The doctor frowned. “I’d recommend that we admit you overnight. You suffered a significant amount of blood loss and you need a round of antibiotics to prevent an infection.”

  Yeah, and I’d recommend that he step out of my way.

  “Going to have to pass.”

  He huffed in disbelief. “You were shot.”

  It’d barely grazed me, and I had already spent hours being barraged by questions from officers. Last one finally left two minutes ago.

  Two dead.

  Two injured, one in critical condition.

  Two children unharmed.

  Unscathed.

  Relief. Relief.

  That overwhelming feeling was gnarled by the anxiety that crawled and infested and decayed.

  “You can write me a prescription if you want. But I’m out.”

  I slipped off the bed, wincing like a bitch.

  He shook his head. “You’re in pain.”

  He had no idea.

  “You can find me on the fifth floor if you need me,” I grumbled, going for the door.

  Arm in a sling, shirt covered in blood, but it was my soul that was doing the bleeding.

  I went for the elevator, punching the up button about fifteen times.

  Dread whirled around me.

  A vortex of apprehension.

  That storm I’d felt coming since the second that girl had stumbled into my life.

  When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into it and rode it to the fifth floor.

  Even though the hall was lit, I could feel darkness pressing into the hospital, ominous clouds that gathered at the edges of my sight and mind.

  Regular visiting hours were long since over, but there were people who still mingled about, whispering outside doors, worry radiating from their hearts.

  Nurses hustled, and a few rooms were still lit.

  Feet heavy, laden with fear, I made it to the end of the hall where two double doors led into the intensive care unit. There was a counter to check in. The visiting hours later in this area, though I didn’t think there was anyone stupid enough to try to stop me from getting through those doors.

  The man fronting the counter pushed the button and the double doors automatically swung open. I moved inside, footsteps slowed while my heart raced the fastest that it ever had.

  Hope and horror.

  Hope and horror.

  Two emotions shoved so close together inside me, I wasn’t sure I could differentiate one from the other.

  My breaths came shorter and shorter as I took a turn down the hall to the right.

  Like I was going against the current. Against the grain.

  I could barely move by the time I made it to her room number.

  Lyrik was there, standing outside the door, his back pressed to the wall, his head rocked back toward the ceiling.

  Panic sloshed, and terror slogged through my veins.

  I froze three feet away.

  He pulled from the wall when he saw I was there, and I was crushing my teeth when I met his eyes.

  Waiting for the worst.

  For the debt to increase.

  These sins greater than I could afford.

  Lyrik roughed a hand through his hair, blowing out a shuddering sigh. “She’s awake.”

  My hand darted out to the wall to keep me standing.

  Fear exhaled on a haggard breath.

  Respite.

  Reprieve.

  Still, I was asking, disbelief in the plea, “She’s okay?”

  He nodded. “She’s going to be.”

  My spirit screamed and my soul shouted.

  “The doctor is in there right now. First thing she did when she woke up was ask for you and the kids. I think she’s as worried about you as you were about her.”

  Emotion shivered, and I blinked.

  Uncertain.

  Unworthy.

  Could I just . . . walk in there?

  Be with her?

  “You’re a fool if you’re standing there questioning if she could love you right now. Question is, after everything, can you love her?”

  I looked at the closed door.

  Every nerve alive.

  That connection booming through the air.

  I gulped as I pushed it open.

  Energy crashed.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  I was inundated with it.

  Blinded.

  Her goodness.

  Her purity.

  Her light.

  Even though she was beat up, her smile was soft—an invitation—when she looked at me from where she was propped up on the bed, attached to a thousand monitors, all of them beating with life.

  The air punched from my lungs.

  Knees going weak.

  The best thing that I’d ever seen.

  “Hi,” she whispered, voice thick.

  “Hey.”

  The doctor shifted a fraction, the woman taking in my state, eyebrow arching in question.

  “This is who I was telling you about. The man who saved me. Saved my children.” Mia’s voice was acute affection, a message delivered in her words.

  Thank you.

  And I didn’t know how to stand under that.

  Like these sins could be erased.

  Moisture glistened in her eyes, and the girl looked at me the way she always had.

  Like she saw something better.

  Something right.

  Something meant for her.

  Love burst in my heart.

  Wasn’t sure how any of us remained upright under the eruption of it.

  The doctor hummed, looking between us.

  I edged for the bed.

  Wary.

  Eager.

  Sorry.

  Fucking sorry, and still suffering all that hope this girl had somehow made me believe in again.

  I leaned in, dropped my forehead to hers, breathed her in. “You’re okay.”

  She nodded, face getting soggy from the tears that slipped free.

  “An artery in her thigh was nicked,” the doctor explained. “Thankfully the paramedics arrived quickly, and it was easily repaired in surgery. It seems somebody else took the brunt of it.” Her voice shifted in implication.

  My eyes dropped closed, and I knew that was the only thing I wanted.

  To be her shield.

  Her protection.

  This girl my own savior. One I didn’t deserve but who was still waiting on me.

  I let my lips press to hers.

  Lightly, though I lingered.

  “You’re okay.”

  She nodded under my kiss. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes.

  “You’re hurt,” she whispered.

  “It’s nothing.” I edged back and set my hand on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, Leif. You have nothing to apologize for. I told you I alw
ays recognized the man you are. The one who was waiting to be freed. He’s the man I fell in love with. He is the one standing right here, in front of me. The one who saved us. He’s the one I want.”

  “Don’t want to be anywhere else, Mia. I . . .” I struggled with what to say. “My past . . . the guy . . . he was a bad guy. And I know you get what that really means now.”

  I knew we had an audience. But I didn’t care. I was so over hiding behind the walls.

  Behind the anger and the hate and the fear that had held me captive for the last three years.

  I had to lay all of that at her feet.

  “But if you can see past that—through it—I will live for you, Mia. Live for you with all that I have. I love Penny. I love Greyson.”

  My heart panged with the truth of it, their sweet faces flashing through my mind. God, I loved them so much.

  “And I love you. I want to spend my life with you. Let me love you. Let me love your kids. I want to see your joy. Want to be a part of it. Want to see you paint. Let’s make beauty together.”

  She brushed her thumb over my jaw. “Don’t you get it . . . you are the beauty reflected back at me. You thought you were the darkness, but you were my light. I love you, Leif. Let me love you back.”

  I nodded at her, tightened my hold on her cheek. A promise. A pledge. “I will let you love me every day, just like I will be loving you.”

  Sable eyes gazed up at me, her lips trembling, pulling up at one side as the tears kept gliding down her face. “We caught a falling star, Leif.”

  Mia’s eyes flitted to the doctor, mine following the path, my chest panging with uncertainty.

  The woman gave a soft smile. “I was just giving Mia some of her test results. Her bloodwork showed a positive pregnancy. With her past medical history as well as her current situation, we need to consider this high risk. I ordered an ultrasound, and they should be in with a mobile unit soon. But as of right now, everything looks good.”

  Shock slowed my heart.

  I couldn’t process.

  Couldn’t speak.

  Couldn’t do anything but look down at Mia who was looking up at me with all that hope and love shining bright, and she whispered, “Are you happy?”

  I knew it was worry in her question. Compassion. This girl who got me on a level that no one else could.

  The one who would hold me through the pain.

  Understand my grief. Not count it as a detriment or disloyalty.

  The doctor slipped out when the ultrasound tech came in, and I watched as she squirted gel on Mia’s belly, as she held a probe to it, as the tiny thing showed up on the screen.