Page 108 of Even Beneath the Stars

Her fingers curl slightly into the fabric of my shirt. The gentle tug draws me closer, or maybe I'm just swaying toward her naturally. Her hand is still on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel how hard my heart is beating.

"You were just a kid who wanted his father's attention."

I want to look away from her, but I can't. Her eyes hold mine, filled with something intense. I don't know what, though. Not pity—it better not be that. I live in a fucking palace…havefree rein of most of that palace, for Christ's sake; access to a private jet, yacht, resorts owned by my family the world over to extend my playground. Beingthatguy—the asshole born with the world at his fingertips and be pitied—that would be its own brand of humiliation.

The world isn't just my oyster—my familyownsthe fucking oyster.

"Sooo…" Maggie steps away.

I want to pull her back in. I don't.

"Are you going to show me the moon or what?"

Chapter Forty-One

Maggie

Xavier leans over the telescope, the sleeves of his long-sleeve T-shirt pushed up around his forearms, where a vein traces the curve of lean muscle, shifting subtly as he moves. His long fingers turn the focus knob with a kind of effortless ease, like he’s done this a thousand times. Like the telescope is an extension of him—the same way his guitar is… a hockey stick, his little brother. The guy just looks at ease with everything he takes on, and it’s almost maddening to watch.

He straightens, stepping back. His lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile as he turns to me. “Maggie LeClair, I give you…” he trails off and places his hand lightly against the small of my back, guiding me toward the eyepiece. “The moon,” he finishes, his voice low, almost reverent.

I shift forward, my heart hammering a little harder than it should, and press my eye to the eyepiece. My breath catches. “Oh my God,” I whisper.

It’s the moon—so close, I can see the craters, the ridges, the shadows that look like they’ve been painted by hand.

“That’s the moon—for real life?” I manage, exhaling the words.

Behind me, Xavier chuckles, the sound low and rich, like he’s been waiting for this reaction. “Live from the Milky Way,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. He's proud to share this with me, I realize. It's a thought that sends a thrill along my spine.He's happysharing this little sliver of his world with me.

I pull back from the eyepiece to look at him, and for a moment, I forget what I’m supposed to say. His arms are crossed loosely, leaning against the telescopelike it’s no big deal, but there’s something in his expression—a flicker of pride, or maybe satisfaction—that softens his usual guarded edges.

“It’s incredible,” I finally breathe, and the way he looks at me—just for a second—makes it feel like he’s seeing me, too. "Show me something else," I tell him, still buzzing and tingly.

He gives a throaty laugh. "What do you want to see?"

"I don't know." I shrug, watching how the dim light catches on his jawline. "What's your favorite thing to look at in the sky?"

He laughs again, running a hand through his already-messy hair. The question seems to overwhelm him. Which, okay, makes sense—I basically just asked him to name his favorite thing in an entire galaxy. His teeth catch his plump lower lip as he thinks, and I have to force myself to look away. Up through the looming glass dome, at the hundreds and thousands. Millions?Billions?of stars up there looking back down at us right now.

When I turn back to Xavier, he's already moving toward the telescope.

"Got it," he says, flashing me that pleased grin that makes my stomach do weird flips. His teeth catch his bottom lip again as he bends over the viewfinder.

He makes adjustments, his fingers dancing over the controls. He has to bend down pretty far, and I realize he's tilting the telescope to account for our height difference.

"Okay," he says, stepping back and motioning me over with a glint in his eyes that feels like we're sharing a secret. A moment… A memory, maybe.

I peer through the lens, the cool brass brushing my cheek.

“The Crab Nebula,” Xavier says, his voice low and close behind me. “It’s the aftermath of a supernova—basically, a star died and left this explosion of light and color behind.”

The view is breathtaking. It looks like frozen fireworks, a snapshot of something explosive and wild, caught in perfect stillness.

“That’s… beautiful,” I whisper, leaning back slightly but not enough to lose the view.

Xavier lets out a soft, almost bashful laugh. “Yeah. I don’t know… I just think it’s kind of cool that something so beautiful comes out of total destruction.”

His words settle in the air between us, then he's crouching down beside me, his hand brushing the side of my arm as he grips one of the heavy brass dials near the base, rotating it with slow, practiced precision. His face is so close, I can feel the warmth of his skin against my cheek, the faint rasp of his breath against my temple. His hair tickles just slightly as he leans in closer. He smells like soap—something musky. Warm and masculine.

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