Stone clears his throat. Even in grief, he’s the handsomest in the room, his pale skin contrasting with his dark, thick hair and piercing, though red-rimmed, eyes.
He is perfection, and my heart tugs at the sight of him. If I’m honest, my heart hasn’t stopped being pulled toward him since the day we first met in high school.
“Thank you all for coming,” he says. “It would mean a lot to my mother to see you all here, gathered in her honor and eating your weight in falcon’s feet and booze.”
Chuckles and laughter follow.
He smiles sadly. “Judy Stalinski grew up here. She had her son here, grew her roots here, and never wanted to move, despite her son’s bribery of a mansion in Malibu to get her to leave.”
More laughter. Even I grin at the thought of Mrs. Stalinski making herself at home in Malibu.
“But that was her. She didn’t care what her son did, as long as he was happy—and stopped stealing the flowers from the box planters in front of Feather’s Flowers.” Stone gives his trademark grin. “Hey, they weren’t part of the inventory and free, right?”
The owner of Feather’s Flowers shakes her head and waggles her finger at him, but with a doting expression. I dip my chin in decades-old embarrassment since most often, he tossed those flowers he swiped into a haphazard bouquet for me, Stone’s way of begging my forgiveness for whatever current shit he’d gotten himself into.
It’s a role, not his real self up there, but he’s charmed the entire town with a crafted smile and sad eyes.
“Jokes aside,” Stone continues as the lighthearted laughter dies down. “My mother is a woman who will never be replaced. It’s giving me an ungodly amount of pain to stand in front of you right now and acknowledge that she’s not here anymore. I will see her every time I look in the mirror, but I won’t have her life behind my eyes, or her wise smile, or her unwavering patience. She was a force, and though I am but a reflection of her, her spirit lives on in this town. Her one wish was to have me return to Falcon Haven, a place where her heart will always remain, and I know, every time Idoreturn here, I will see her in the eyes ofall of you. In the architecture she loved, the local businesses she made it her priority to support, and the friends she made and loved. I—” Stone abruptly stops.
I start forward at the moment Maisy steps onto the podium and gently takes the microphone from him.
“We all love listening to Judy’s pride and joy,” she says, “but if you’ll give me a few moments of your time, I’d love to say a few words about my dear friend.”
Stone rubs Maisy’s shoulder in thanks, departing from the podium with his head down.
He takes a direct line out of the cafe and into the grocery section. I part the crowd with quiet “excuse me” and “pardon me” to get to him, but he’s moving too fast.
Concerned, I set my half-finished coffee down on the nearest flat surface and pick up my pace, leaving the crowd behind.
I pass Carly, who squeezes my arm in support, and Rome, who nods his respect, and even Aaron, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he subtly scrolls through his phone.
I have to believe he’s working on important tasks relating to Stone. Otherwise, I’m sure Stone would’ve decked him on his way past.
It also serves as a stark reminder that I’ll never understand Stone’s life outside of Falcon Haven, one requiring constant management by other people because he’s watched by the world.
Maisy’s borrowed bed sheets can only protect him for so long.
I follow Stone’s steps into the back storage room, and though I’ve lost sight of him, a sudden arc of light in the darkened warehouse tells me he’s leaving.
“Stone!” I call, hoping to stall him before he gets into his car.
Racing outside, I hold a hand to my eyes, the sun bright and blinding in a clear, cold sky.
In seconds, my body takes priority, demanding I wrap my arms around myself to protect my exposed skin from the cold.
Snow has yet to fall, but that doesn’t mean the temperature is snowflake worthy.
“Stone!” My teeth chatter.
I don’t see him in the back alley where a thin, one-way road allows for trucks and cars to park. I figured I’d see his sleek black vehicle as soon as my eyes adjusted, but all that faces me is frosted-over curbs and black tarmac.
I haven’t heard the expensive purr of his engine, which gives me hope. My heels hit the pavement hard with my quick strides as I head to the corner.
Dread collects in my belly, ice chips trickling through my inner warmth. I don’t know why, but I feel like if I don’t catch him right now, I’ll never see him again.
An instinct, the unavoidable nudge of history repeating itself, collects inside me. He’ll say goodbye to his mother and leave for Hollywood again.
As much as we’ve been through together, I don’t know if I’m enough for him to come back to.
