Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(82)

“Don’t.” The word was part plea, part demand.

“I’m not going to beg. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that. But I’m not going to say that I don’t think you’re making a mistake.”

Pain streaked across Dex’s expression. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s what’s best. For both of us.”

I lifted my chin, a little fight, a bit of risk winding its way back. “That’s what you say.”

Dex’s dark eyes flashed. “Hellion, you don’t want the darkness that lives in me anywhere near you.”

And with that, he strode from the room.

Leaving me standing there, heart breaking for the man who thought he was bad simply for where he came from. There was no greater lie than that.





I tiptoed out of my room and toward the kitchen, the early rays of sun just peeking over the forest and coming in through the back windows lighting my way. I’d been up for hours, sleep barely finding me last night. My body and mind were at war. My body only wanted one thing: for Dex’s resolve to snap like a twig. All my mind could think about and see was the image of his face, ravaged by guilt over something he wasn’t.

It hadn’t been a restful night, to say the least. Thankfully, my coffee machine was fairly quiet. I’d make two cups and down them on the back deck until everyone was awake. But the moment I hit the kitchen, a voice cut through the dark.

“Come get your fucking dog,” Dex grumbled. At least, it sounded like him, but his voice was muffled.

I crossed into the living room and flipped on a lamp. It was just enough light to see that Yeti had found a new bed. And that bed was Dex.

She was stretched out on top of him, her head burrowed next to his, and her fur practically suffocating him.

A sound of strangled amusement burst out of me.

“It’s not funny.”

My lips twitched. “She likes you.”

Even beneath the pile of fur, I could see Dex’s scowl. “How much does she weigh? Two fifty?”

“I’ll have you know she’s only one hundred and forty-two pounds.”

Dex grunted. “Light as a feather. Now, will you get her off me?”

Yeti let out a contented sigh.

“She seems like she’s having a great time.”

A growl left Dex’s lips. Yeti seemed to enjoy the sound because she lifted her head and licked Dex’s cheek.

“Seriously?” he snarled.

I couldn’t hold in my laughter this time. “I think she’s in love.”

“I think it’s a stalker situation,” Dex shot back.

I laughed as I hauled a disappointed Yeti off Dex. “Come on, girl. Gotta know when he’s just not that into you.” And boy, did I feel that after last night.

Yeti only sent a longing look in Dex’s direction.

“She scares me,” Dex muttered as he rose, running a hand through artfully rumpled hair and reaching for those damn glasses. I had to get out of here.

“She should scare you,” I muttered as I led Yeti to the backyard.

By the time I got back inside, Owen was up, battering Dex with endless questions, which Dex was barely managing one-word answers to.

I grinned at him. “Not a morning person?”

“Stop smiling,” he grumbled, shoving a mug of coffee at me. “There’s nothing to smile about.”

My grin only widened. “I don’t know. I kind of like watching your feathers get ruffled.”

“You’re a sadist,” Dex clipped.

I leaned back against the counter. “Probably.”

He just glared back at me through glasses askew in a rumpled T-shirt that read My other computer is your computer.

God, I liked messing with him too much.

And for that reason alone, I turned to the fridge. “You know, I got you those life-threatening energy drinks you love so much the other day. You don’t have to lower yourself to drinking coffee with the rest of us.”

Surprise lit in Dex’s dark-hazel eyes as I straightened and handed him one of the slim cans. “You got me Lightning.”

The reverence he said that with almost made me laugh. “You sound like I just got you the Hope Diamond or tickets to the World Series.”

His fingers brushed mine as he took the can, making a shiver skate over my skin in a dangerous way. “Might as well have gotten me a Jeter rookie card,” he mumbled as he cracked open the can and took a swig.

I couldn’t watch as he drank. Not those lips hugging the can or the way the corded muscles of his neck worked as he swallowed.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Instead, I moved straight to the stove and started breakfast as Owen chattered at Dex. As the caffeine started to take effect, Dex became more responsive. By the time I set a scramble, toast, and fruit on the table, they were deep in a discussion about computers, which I only understood every fifth word of.

But there was something about the normalcy of it. The kind I’d never really had. Because even when we had Nova, she was out the door at the crack of dawn for morning yoga classes. This was new. And I liked it too much.

“All right,” I said, rising to clear plates. “Get your backpack, O. We gotta get rolling.”

“Aw, man,” he muttered. “I wanna hang with Dex today.”