When Stars Fall [EBOOK and PAPERBACK PUBLISHED]

19. Wyatt - 2006

Eleven Years Ago

I shift and sink deeper in my spacious seat. Why does anyone who can afford first class fly economy? Ellie grips my hand as we hit another patch of turbulence. From my pocket, I pass her the container of pills. She doesn't open it, just passes it back. Somewhat surprising. Ellie doesn't normally turn me down for anything. I tuck the bottle back into my pocket.

"My mom is like a bloodhound. She'll know, immediately. I might as well bend over and kiss my ass goodbye. She'd have me booked in rehab before we left the island." Her exasperated sigh is laced with love.

"What about your dad?"

Her family dynamic mystifies me. When I became famous, the money and attention fueled my parents' addictions. They didn't stop me from taking pills or coke or whatever else happened to be going. Half the time, they were sitting beside me doing it too. Their attempts to get me into rehab were more about the control of my funds than about my well-being.

"My dad will strap me down while my mom fills out the paperwork. They are always on the same side. The number of times I got the 'we're a team' speech—too many to count."

"So, she's going to know about my habit?" Nerves should be shooting through me at the thought. Why would they want her with an addict? There's nothing they can say to make her question us. She loves me. Ellie and I are solid.

She laughs, her brown eyes lighting up. "Maybe? She's not going to try to have you committed, though."

"She might wonder why you're with me." Sometimes even I wonder. Doesn't mean I'd ever let her go, not willingly, not without a fight. No woman has ever fit so completely into every aspect of my life. 

She stares at me, love pouring out of her. "She'll know. She'll take one look at me and she'll know. My mother understands me very well." She gives me a sideways look. "Now, my dad is a little more protective."

"As all good fathers should be." I take the Faces magazine out of the seat pocket in front of me. Ellie and I are on the cover this month. Collecting tidbits from our public relationship is a hobby of sorts. If we do anything jointly, I'm buying it, recording it, soaking it in. A cabinet at home is a literal shrine to our relationship. Ellie thinks it's cute.

"At least they picked some good photos." She glances at the cover. "I don't understand why people are so fascinated with us."

I chuckle. "Just enjoy it. People like us. The why isn't important."

Usually, subjects on covers are focused on the camera, but we're focused on each other. The way she looks at me makes me feel full, complete, like I don't need anything else in the world. Absent-mindedly, I take out my pills and toss one into my mouth without looking. Our descent is announced, and I tuck the magazine into my carry-on bag at my feet.

"Why do you keep those?"

I zip the bag closed and half-shrug. Why do I keep all of it? I've never been a collector about any aspect of my fame. Too much history. Too much press. With her, I can't seem to help myself. Maybe all of this is for our kids someday, so they can see how we started.

"I'm a hoarder." I deadpan.

She laughs and gives me a gentle slap on the back. "The only things you hoard are fast cars and motorcycles."

"And anything to do with you." I give her a quick kiss on the mouth.

She grabs my shirt when I try to pull away. "Wyatt Burgess, you say the sweetest things." She kisses me again, wrapping her arms around my neck and almost dragging me across on top of her. These wide seats are a blessing and a curse. When we separate, she searches my face for a beat. "You really love me that much?"