Page 17 of My Starry Valentine

“He was a grumpy little bird, as I recall. I can see the resemblance.”

“Yeah, but I’m already starboy, ice-climber, cowboy, probably mountain man. Definitely cowboy-mountain-man, if a nickname can even be that long. I think nicknames should have a three-option limit, four max. Don’t you?”

“What’s the fun in that?”

He shoots me a frown.

I raise my palms, chuckling. “But it’s your house, so it’s your rules. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“It is. Come on, Snoop. Let’s go binge-watch romance movies so your Valentine’s Day isn’t a total bust. Do you need to call Naomi again? Or check my satellite phone for texts?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

After grabbing the phone, he helps me into my jacket, escorting me out into the darkness and whipping wind in search of a signal. Fortunately, his texts load right away, including one telling me Naomi’s heading into surgery tomorrow at six in the morning. It says she or her parents will text afterward with an update.

Back inside, he helps me out of my jacket, asking, “What’s the word?”

“She’s going into surgery first thing in the morning.” I look down at my hands, guilt transforming my stomach into a heavy pit. “I still can’t believe this happened, and I feel like it’s my fault. Naomi wanted to stay in town today to go shopping. But I was the one who insisted on getting in some skiing before the weather changed.”

“Everyone in Ouray had the same idea today, Luna. You can’t blame yourself for it… Hey, you prayed with her over the phone earlier. Would doing that now make you feel a little better?” His eyes narrow, his face bashful.

I swallow loudly. “Absolutely. Thank you for suggesting it, Ledger.”

He shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m no believer or anything, but my best friend, Chuck, is into that stuff. And you seem to be, too, from the half of your earlier conversation that I couldn’t avoid overhearing.”

I know he heard it, yet I still tease, “You listened in on my conversation?”

His face tenses shyly, and he pauses before explaining, “No offense, Snoop, but you’ve got cell yell like none other. I think my neighbor, Mrs. Campbell, heard you, and she’s, like, five miles that way.” He points toward the front door.

Before I can retort properly, he steps forward, towering above me. Grabbing my hands in his, he bows his head toward mine, the motions awkward but not unpracticed. He waits patiently as I find fitting words, painfully aware to the point of distraction of the electricity zinging back and forth between our fingers and palms. By the end, goosebumps trail my hands and forearms, and I shiver with want.Does he feel it, too?His face looks stony, but after I release his hands, he reflexively fists and stretches them, making the corners of my mouth turn up.

I follow him into the living room, cuddling up on the sofa facing his flatscreen. I admire his muscular back and shoulders as he kneels before the hearth, stirring the fire and throwing a couple more logs on. Once the blaze roars, he flips through a cabinet filled with DVD jewel cases, making hollow, clicking sounds until he producesMoonstruck.

As Dean Martin’s deep voice croonsThat’s Amore, Ledger disappears down the hallway, returning with a couple of fake fur blankets lined in forest green satin. He throws one unceremoniously in my direction before taking a seat as far from me as possible on the opposite end of the couch.

I feel rejected and swallow hard, trying not to care. But then I notice his heated stare in my direction, and he says softly, “This goes without saying, but Happy Valentine’s Day, Snoopy.”

Chapter Ten

LEDGER

Iwake up with full arms and a fuller heart, deliciously warm and relaxed, with silky tresses tangled in my fingers. Slow breathing fills my ears, warming the spot over my heart as I realize that Luna and I fell asleep together on the couch. And at some point, somehow, despite the distance I put between us, the lovely watercolorist snuggled into me.

In sleepy response, I must’ve wrapped my arms around her because now I hold her tightly to my chest, feeling the boom of my pulse reverberating against her soft, curvy frame, her head cradled against my chest. Nothing has ever felt more right or torn me more thoroughly apart.

My mind panics, racing for the best way to extricate myself from this situation. I imagine her waking up gently, her eyes narrowing as her body stirs with uncoordinated motions before she gets a long look at my face, shattering the peace of the early morning living room with a frightened gasp or scream. The vision makes my heart sputter and wobble.

Do I really think she’ll do this after last night? I don’t know. But it’s the narrative that makes letting her go the easiest. And I know I must let her go. Because even if she thinks she can be okay with my appearance, even if she’s extra brave or self-sacrificing or some kind of a wounded warrior groupie, she hasn’t felt the full force and sting of my situation yet.

Luna hasn’t had to go out in public, registering the disgusted looks on people’s faces as they assess me, their faces shrouded in curiosity and terror. She hasn’t seen the pitying glances sure to come her way or heard the incredulity in people’s voices when they realize we’re together. I could never put her through that kind of nightmare. It’s why I called off my engagement after the accident. One look at my fiancée’s face after the big reveal, and I knew it was over. Breaking it off quickly was the least mercy I could bestow on her.

My mind twirls and turns, twists and tortures me as my body does something curious. It goes into full revolt, refusing to let go of the beauty in my arms. Despite the alarms going off in my brain, every muscle in my body, every nerve fiber, every cell clings fiercely to her and this moment. I savor this stolen intimacy with all five senses, straining to remember it with perfect clarity for a lifetime.

Ignoring the downward spiral of my tangled thoughts, I close my eyes and clutch her desperately, trying to commit this experience to memory forever. The faint smell of her lavender and rose fragrance, the electricity of her touch, even in sleep. The intense sense of comfort and security she instills, something I didn’t know I needed but thirst for to the depths of my soul.

I want Luna Solace. I yearn for her more than any woman I’ve ever known. And I long for the impossible future she represents and the way her love could piece me back together. Make me a whole man again, at least below the surface. This desire goes beyond reason and logic. It makes no sense. It just aches and thirsts and demands…to the very roots of my soul. How will I ever satisfy the intensity of this hunger, strong enough to break what’s left of me in bits like a ship against coastal rocks?

The cold lump in the center of my chest warms and expands, and my heart beats back to life, thrilling and terrifying me. My throat tightens, a knot forming, and the backs of my eyes sting. Hot, wet trails follow, covering my cheeks, and I pray to God she doesn’t wake up and see me like this…so utterly vulnerable. But I can’t free the arms holding her to wipe away the tears without ruining this moment. And I refuse to do that, savoring every sensation as though it were my last.

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