When Stars Burn Out

by Carrie Aarons

  When we’re finished, and I’m sipping my fourth cup of Joe, I bring up the one subject I’ve never really spoken to anyone, besides my parents, about.

  “I know I mentioned that I love my job, and love helping families and kids in need. But … I don’t think I ever mentioned why it is I started Wish Upon a Star.” I collect myself, taking a deep breath.

  As if he knows this is serious, Paxton doesn’t say anything. Just holds my hands and focuses on me, allowing me to talk.

  “I had a little brother, Ezra. He was four years younger than me, with the curliest, darkest hair you’ve ever seen. He loved toy trucks and was obsessed with trains … we used to joke that he would be the world’s youngest conductor or engineer. When he was seven, he passed away from the same kind of cancer that Ryan has. It took his smile, his energy, his love of all of the things he used to do with it. I was only eleven, and I had no idea how to deal with that kind of loss. For a long time, I couldn’t see other children without getting emotional … my parents had us in family therapy up until I was in high school.”

  Pax moves his chair closer to me, both of his hands gripping mine now. “Demi, I’m so sorry. I had no idea …”

  I smile, tears in my eyes. “It’s okay, and thank you. It still hurts, to this day. But I try … I try to remember the good times. I keep his picture on my nightstand and his face in my memory. And that’s why I started my company, to give good times back to families like mine. Families who are suffering, who can’t remember the fun they used to have. For children who are in pain, who might not have the time or energy that we do. I want to help them, and to honor Ezra. That’s a big part of me, and I want you to know it. So … there it is.”

  I’d never really talked about Ezra, except to my mother. And talking to someone who lived through his death … it was different. More emotional. Often, I was a crutch for her, holding her up while she vented her emotions and anguish.

  Talking about the good times in his life, about his happy moments … it felt cathartic. The smile that stretched my mouth was genuine and giddy. I missed him terribly, but I was also so thankful to have had him as a brother.

  “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, for letting me know you in this way. I think you’re so brave, and incredible to give these families just a little bit of hope back. The fact that you can watch these children go through what your brother did … I don’t know if I could be so strong.”

  Pax pulls me into his lap, and I curl into him, basking in the warmth of his hug. He rests his chin on top of my head, and we listen to the sounds of the city outside the window.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more perfect moment.

  Twenty-Seven

  Demi

  “So I said to the girl doing my manicure, I like them rounded, not square!”

  A bunch of the girls surrounding the woman telling her story cackle, as if it’s the most absurd thing they’ve ever heard.

  I roll my eyes, realizing that maybe this section isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

  For the first time in my life, and in my knowing Paxton Shaw, I am officially sitting in the wives and girlfriends section. An exclusive club, the manicured, dyed, waxed women around me have baited and hooked professional athletes, and their diamonds and designer sunglasses are a testament to that.

  I wasn’t aware that it was “uncool” to wear your player’s number, or any kind of gear for that matter, and so here I sit. In a Cheetahs T-shirt and jeans, with my favorite white canvas sneakers. Most of these women are in leather pants, heels, or some kind of revealing blouse. I feel like such an outsider, but am so happy just to have had Pax ask me to sit here for him today that I’m grinning and bearing it.

  “Don’t listen to those hags. We call them the WAGS.” A pretty redhead sits down next to me, her attire more casual than the group in front of me.

  “Oh, you’re not a player’s wife?” I thought this section was only for family.

  “No, I am. Number eighty-seven, Charles West, that’s my man!” She whoops her fist and whistles. Some of the other girls turn around to look at her, disdain in their eyes. “But I’m a wife. Dedicated to my husband’s career and helping him grow, while also raising our family and being an independent woman. Those … those are WAGS. Girls who just want the title and money of dating a professional athlete.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” I breathed a sigh of relief that perhaps there were some normal women if I was going to be sitting here. “I’m Demi … I’m here for, or I guess with, I don’t know. But um … Paxton Shaw. That’s who I’m here to see.”

  She holds out a hand for me to shake. “Hillary, nice to meet you. I can tell you’re definitely not a WAG. Stick with us, you’ll be fine.”

  Hillary points to two girls sitting next to her, and they introduce themselves as Willow and Nicole. I wave, feeling a bit more comfortable than I previously had.

  “So, you’re all married to players?” I ask, trying to find out a little more about the women I’ll probably be spending some time with over the next year.

  “Yep. Willow married Bradley, he’s on the defensive line, a year ago. And Nicole has been with Jacob, the backup quarterback, for about seven years. And me … Charles and I are high school sweethearts. Almost thirteen years together, but only eight married.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t imagine being with someone that long, but it sounded nice.

  “How about you? Pax was just signed here; did you move with him?” There is no judgment in Hillary’s kind brown eyes, just curiosity.

  I scratch my head. “Um, no … we actually kind of used to know each other in college, I’ve been in Charlotte ever since. When he moved back, we started seeing each other. We’ve been dating about two months.”

  Willow leans over. “Wait a minute, you’re Demi Rosen … you organized that wish day for the little boy with cancer a few months back. I know you! You’re the CEO of Wish Upon a Star!”

  Her voice carries and the pack of WAGS look back, studying me for the first time.

  I blush because I really don’t like to be the center of attention. “Um, yeah …”

  “Oh, girl, you do the work of God. Seriously, I bow down to you. What you do for those families is so amazing.” Hillary touches my arm, and I can’t stop blushing.

  I don’t do what I do for the recognition, and it’s awkward for me when I’m praised for it. “Well, we just do it for the children, that’s all.”

  Nicole and Willow smile at me, and Hillary keeps chattering away, moving onto the next subject.

  The game is intense, especially from the great seats that are designated as the family section. Pax scores two touchdowns, pointing up at me both times he makes it into the end zone. I can’t help but blush as Hillary jabs me with her elbow, pointing me out as his “boo.” In the end, they win, bringing their record to nine and one.

  After the game, the girls bring me to wait with them in a room that has a full spread of food, a fully stocked bar, and dozens of people waiting for the players to come up out of the locker room. Kids run around, playing tag while their mothers sipped wine or spoke to staff from the stadium or front office.

  And then finally, big burly men in impeccable suits start to emerge. One after another, greeted by squealing kids or happy wives, kissing and hugging.

  Paxton walks in toward the middle of the pack, his hair still damp and curling up past his neck. The dark blond stubble on his chin has a few errant water droplets, and his gray suit brings out the blue in his eyes. I want to drool, or straddle him, but I refrain from both. Instead, I give him a shy wave and wait for him to walk to me.

  But he doesn’t walk, he runs. Straight at me, until he’s in front of me, picking me up around the waist and gripping the back of my neck so that I’m forced to kiss him. The meeting of our mouths sends shockwaves straight to my core, and if we weren’t in a room full of people, and children, I would start undressing him right here.

  A couple of wolf whistles break me out of my Paxton
lust-haze, and I hit his shoulder, signaling for him to put me down.

  People are still clapping and staring, and I bury my head in his chest. “You are too much.”

  “Sorry, I’ve just never had a woman waiting in the family room for me. Feels pretty damn good … especially since it’s you that is waiting for me.”

  “So, you can finally call me your girlfriend, huh?”

  I think back to the time of a bet, one that hurt me so bad when I found out about it. He wouldn’t say it back then … but he was saying it now. I had to focus on that.

  “You know it, baby. And I’m your boyfriend. Hey, I like how that sounds.” Pax kisses me again. “Did you have a good time?”

  I nod as Paxton laces his fingers through the ones on my left hand, and pulls me over to the food line. If breakfast last week was any indication, he had to be absolutely famished after expending that much energy during the game.

  “I did. Met some very nice ladies. Hillary West. She’s very down to earth; kind.” I look around the room, spotting Hillary as she smacks a kiss on the man who must be Charles.

  “That’s what I’ve heard … good, I’m glad you met someone you can talk to since I want you at every single game from now on. You’re my lucky charm.” Pax piles chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, and more onto a plate.

  “Paxton, you’ve played in the league for eight years, and I don’t know much, but I know that you have a ring, or maybe more. I am not your lucky charm.” I put my hands on my hips.

  He walks us to a table, setting down his plate and kissing me on the nose. “Yes, you are. No more arguing. I’m so hungry that I could pass out.”

  “You’re nuts … this is enough food to feed the entire team.” I roll my eyes, taking a french fry off of his plate and popping it in my mouth.

  Pax smiles. “That’s why there is a whole other dining room. What, you didn’t think this was the only food, right? We’d all starve!”

  Twenty-Eight

  Paxton

  Growing up, I had celebrated Christmas. My parents were never devoutly religious, hell, we never even really went to church. But, every December twenty-fifth, we had a tree up in our living room and left cookies out for Santa.

  I’d never been part of a family who believed in something holy, just the trademark Toys “R” Us traditional family that bought into the marketing ploy of the holiday and not the actual meaning. Not to say that our traditions were bad or that I lacked for anything, but being around Demi’s family during Hanukkah was a whole different experience.

  Aaron put on his yarmulke, placing the traditional cap on his head and opening his prayer book. Sarah carries loads of food on China platters into the dining room of their home, even though it is only the four of us. Matzo ball soup, brisket, gefilte fish, kugel, latkes, and so much more. Demi sets the special Hanukkah chalices on the table for us to drink out of, candles lit everywhere with the beautiful gold menorah in the middle of the table.

  “Tonight, we gather for this feast to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah. To celebrate the plight of our people, to remember all that it is to be of the Jewish faith,” Aaron starts, going through the prayers by memory as he smiles around the table.

  I can feel the energy of their belief in the room, and I’m honored that they’re letting me take part. There is actually a real difference in having a holiday that is more about the spiritual side of things, and not just a massive unwrapping of presents.

  The prayers that they recited, holding hands and singing, were intricate and they had me a little bit mesmerized. I couldn’t understand a lick of it, but with the ambiance and the recitation, I could just feel the love and faith circling around the room.

  When they were done, and Aaron had blessed the meal to eat and cut the challah bread, Demi turned to me.

  “So, what did you think about your first night of Hanukkah?” She looked gorgeous with her hair pulled off her face, her big eyes shining brightly.

  “I think it’s amazing.” I squeezed her hand under the table.

  “You don’t have to bullshit just to impress my daughter, Paxton.” Aaron spoke up from where he sat across from me.

  Now I knew why all those teenage boys were scared that their girlfriend’s fathers were going to whack them with a shotgun on the front porch. Because I had a feeling, that if Demi turned her back, Aaron would do the same to me. My eyes glanced down to see if perhaps he was hiding said shotgun under the table.

  “No, sir, and I mean it. Also, Sarah, this brisket is delicious.” Maybe if I stuffed my face the entire meal, he wouldn’t cut my fingers off for touching his daughter.

  “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Eat, eat, everyone,” she clucks, and it reminds me of my mother.

  It feels nice to have a holiday with a family for the first time in a while. Usually, my brother, Dylan, and I celebrated holidays three days late because of my football schedule. And we had takeout and bottles of beer while giving each other one single gift. It was rather depressing, and we both missed our parents so much that it overshadowed the day.

  “Thank you for letting me be here. It’s nice to have a family holiday.” I squeezed Demi’s hand again.

  They all looked at me, and Sarah’s eyes became misty. “Well, thank you for being here. It’s been a long time since we’ve been a complete family unit, and I’m happy that you make Demi happy.”

  Aaron didn’t have a backhanded comment for that one, and I counted that as a point for me.

  “Oh, Mom, I started reading that new Nora Roberts book, it is so good!” Demi sips some of her grape wine and looks across at Sarah.

  “I have to buy it on my Kindle, but I was going through some of the reviews on Amazon and they are wonderful. That Nora just knows how to write them.” Her mom cut into an asparagus spear.

  “Personally, I don’t see how you two read that cheesy crap. Dan Brown is the best writer of this generation.” Aaron shook his head.

  I cut in, not thinking before I opened my mouth. “That’s debatable. He’s good, but I prefer Douglas E. Richards.”

  I’m too busy cutting my food to notice the silence, but when I look back up, they’re all staring at me.

  “You read science fiction?” Aaron is gaping at me.

  “I didn’t realize you … liked books.” Demi practically jokes.

  I smile, goading them. “Oh, so what? The jock can’t like to read? That’s a bad stereotype, guys.”

  Sarah cackles. “Oh, sweetheart, you are something else. A pleasant surprise around every corner! Well, good. We can start a book club then.”

  Aaron butts in. “I love Richards … he’s one of my favorite authors. Which is your favorite novel?”

  I mentally high five myself for being a science fiction nerd, because it’s totally scoring me points with my future father-in-law. And yeah, I went there. I was cocky enough to believe it would come true.

  “Mind War, hands down. But they’re all good.”

  Aaron launched into a conversation with me about his novels, and Sarah and Demi began to talk about a show on Netflix that fictionalized the British monarchy.

  It was a night of family, of a little too much wine and getting to know each other on a deeper level. Sarah brought out dessert and set gold chocolate coins called gelt down by mine and Demi’s plate. Apparently, it was a tradition to give these to the children to bring them luck and good fortune.

  By the time Demi and I said good night, I felt like I was really being accepted into the fold. And as she held my hand on the car ride home, I felt the weight of that chocolate coin in my pocket.

  I already had all of the luck and good fortune I needed.

  Twenty-Nine

  Demi

  We’re lying on the couch, the sun going down outside, with Maya curled beneath our feet.

  “Why do you watch this asinine show again?” Pax is snuggled into me, my body being the big spoon.

  “Because I love love. And it’s mindless drama and sometimes a girl just needs her gui
lty pleasure. Now shush or you can’t stay here and watch.” I turn my attention back to the TV, watching as twenty-five women vie for one man’s attention.

  “But your boobs make nice pillows.” The large man eclipsing my couch snuggles even harder, making me giggle.

  If someone were watching right now, they’d laugh at how big of a baby this macho football player actually was.

  This is how we’ve spent the last month. Paxton all but moved in with me, taking Maya out on a morning run right after I pull out of the driveway, them trying to race me to the end of the street before my car turns left toward the city. I cook us dinner and sit with the wives at Sunday games. He makes the right side of the bed, at my insistence, and I have learned not to leave the toothpaste on the counter because it drives him nuts.

  I’m not sure when we fell into this routine, this suburban fairy tale … but I am in heaven. Freaking love it. I haven’t told him that; I’m so scared to use the L word that I practically jump out of my skin every time I think it.

  Over the past month, we’ve blended our lives … and somehow made them even better. We’ve given us the chance to be a team, a real shot at a relationship, and damn, we’ve all but knocked it out of the park.

  The guy on TV asks one of the girls about past relationships and sets off a lightbulb in my brain. They’re talking about exes, and you can tell that the guy is doing nothing but checking out her boobs while she prattles on about a five-year relationship she just got out of before coming on the show.

  Red alert, buddy.

  I turn to Pax, sometimes hating the cheesy drama of this show. “So, you know about my history while we were apart. Broken engagement and all that. How about you? You can’t tell me that there weren’t any ladies in your life.”