Still do.
Always have, always will.
Stella just has this magnetism about her; anyone who spends a minute in her presence, can’t help but be drawn to her.
Even as a snot-nosed kid with knobby knees and an attitude bigger than any of us knew how to handle, I always found myself telling Orion to let her tag along.
Not because I was interested in her either—no, those feelings came much, much later—but because she was just this fucking ball of sunshine, and as a lonely punk-ass kid, I just wanted to bask in her light.
All she had to do was point her gap-toothed smile my way, and I’d feel lighter. Accepted. Happier. Loved, even, because God knows my foster family didn’t have any love to spare for the likes of me.
But Stella… she saw me.
And like an idiot, I threw her away.
“Fuck!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the wall of the dingy motel room I’ve called home for the last six months.
There’s so much I could have done better, starting with never taking this damn job.
If it wasn’t for my name on that dotted line, I would have turned my truck around the second my better sense kicked in and begged her to take me back.
Instead, I’m two states away, with nothing but my own regret to keep me company at night.
I ghosted her, breaking her heart and mine. She has every right to hate me, but that doesn’t stop me from loving her.
It’s not going to stop me from trying to win her back either.
Ready or not, Luna, I’m coming for you.
I fucked up when I broke her heart, but I’ve got less than eighty days left on this contract, and when I get home…
Her ass is mine.
Chapter Five
Stella
There’s something about the feeling of fresh soil squishing between my fingers that centers me. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. From baking mud pies to helping my dad tend to his vegetable garden, I just... love it.
Dad says I have green thumbs; that I can make anything grow. During my freshman year of high school, when all of the other girls were asking for Coach purses and Ugg boots, I was begging my parents for a steel utility cart to haul all of my tools to and from the shed.
There’s also something really satisfying about growing something all on your own, about taking a seed and nurturing it into a full-grown plant. It takes patience and dedication, two things I severely lack outside of my seven-by-seven plot.
“You out here, Smalls?”
My head snaps up at the sound of my brother, Orion, calling my name, but I don’t bother answering him. He’ll see me in two more steps.
“Figured as much.”
I stick out my tongue at him and then turn back to the task at hand—pulling weeds. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to see if you planned on coming tonight.”
“Coming where?”
He waits until I’m looking up at him to reply. “To my house, for a party.”
“Like a dinner party?”
“Nope.” Orion shakes his head, grinning in that stupidly annoying way only older brothers can do. “Like an all-out rager.”
Shock sends me sprawling back onto my butt. “And you’re inviting me?”
I sound redundant, but Orion is the very definition of overprotective.
Thanks to his stifling ass, I’m eighteen and have never been to a real party. Hell, I’ve never even had a boyfriend.
Unless you count—nope! Not going there. He doesn’t get to live rent-free in my brain anymore.
My point is, even though he’s only six years older than I am, my brother is a total mama bear when it comes to me; a totally over-the-top, overbearing, and overprotective mama bear.
“Yeah, of course I am,” he says, like it’s totally normal for him to invite me anywhere.
Newsflash: it’s not.
“Why?” Suspicion overrides the excitement so desperately trying to bubble up inside of me.
“You’re eighteen now.”
“Riiiight.” I turn back to the flowerbed. He’s obviously messing with me. It’s the only explanation really, because I’m only three months shy of nineteen, so clearly his invitation has nothing to do with my age because he’s been as overbearing as ever.
“I guess I’ll come.” It’s not like I have anything better to do, I think semi-bitterly.
It’s not like I have any real friends. I mean, I didn’t eat lunch alone in the library or anything but I didn’t get invited to sleepovers or the mall either. The few that tried, either crushed on Orion to the point of obsession or got annoyed by his stifling protectiveness.
“Good. Party starts at nine.”
I nod, playing it cool as he turns and heads back up the path toward the house. But the second I round the curve, I tear off my gloves and give a little squeal.
Weeding can wait, I have a party to get ready for.
My goal was to be fashionably late—whatever that means—but by the time I find somewhere to park, it’s half-past nine and Orion has already called me twice.
Make that three times, I think as my phone starts up again.
“Where are you?” he asks, before I can utter a single word.
“Hi, Orion.”
“Where are you, Smalls?” he asks again, his tone strained.
“Chill. I’m walking up your driveway now.”
“I told you to be here at nine.”
“It’s not like I meant to be late.”
He grunts out an unintelligible curse. “Stay, put. I’ll come get you.”
“Pretty sure I can make it to the backyard on my own.”
“And I’m pretty sure you can stay your ass put and wait for me.” He hangs up before I can argue, which I absolutely would have… the overbearing asshole.
How is it that I can be old enough to score an invite but too young to walk down his driveway?
I mean, it is a long, dark, and winding drive, but there are literally people everywhere. Like so many people, I can’t help but wonder who they are and how he knows them—if he knows them. This is seriously like something out of a movie.
Either way, I stay put since my unintentional tardiness seems to have him in a mood; best not to poke the bear after all.
“What are you wearing?” Orion says as he approaches, his face screwing up into a mean-looking scowl.
“A dress.”
“Do you have a jacket?”
“It’s the middle of summer, so that’s gonna be a nope.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that I’m testing his patience. But this time, it’s not intentional, because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my dress.
I bought it to wear on my eighteenth birthday, but those plans went up in smoke and I spent the day sobbing into a bucket of ice cream instead. So, I decided tonight was the perfect occasion to bust it out of my closet.
With eyelet lace details, a sweetheart neckline, spaghetti straps, and mid-thigh hemline, it’s the perfect mix of sexy and sweet.
“You look like...”
I hold up a hand to silence him. “So help me God, if you say anything other than lovely, I will never speak to you again.”