Page 19 of The Star in Room 7

“Yes, you can. Bring him back when you feel better.” They stare up at me fiercely. They’re several inches shorter than me, but they don’t seem in the least bit intimidated by my height or my bulk. If anything, I’m intimidated by their feisty, ‘don’t you dare refuse’ stare.

I hug Ted under my arm, which is easier than using my hands when they’re already full with a charger and a lollipop. “Thanks.”

I return to my room, plug in the charger, and hook up my phone. The sad battery-empty icon flashes up, replaced a half-second later by the charging icon. I give it a few minutes, finding homes for the lollipop—on the bedside table—and Ted—on the pillow.

I stand by the window. My room overlooks the conservatory. I replay my conversation with Nate through my mind, amazed by how steadfastly patient he remained while I dodged his questions and even got mad at him. I remember how safe I felt while he held me, and how much I wanted to cling to him as I cried. I’ve never let myself be that vulnerable with anyone. Not as an adult, anyway. As a kid, sure. What kid hasn’t cried after falling off their skateboard, or accidentally kicking their ball into the neighbor’s garden while they were out and couldn’t throw it back?

I pull Nate’s business card out of my pocket and prop it on the windowsill, against the glass. Will he really come back tomorrow to check on me? I hope he does. I stifle a gasp. I want to see Nate again.

My phone lights up with the messages I must have missed while it was out of power. I sit on the bed, checking them. I have a couple of texts from my agent, a weekly catch-up email from Mum, and a text from my boss at the restaurant, asking why I didn’t turn up for my lunchtime shift today. Shit. I’d forgotten all about it. I’m normally Mister Reliable. I send her an apologetic, bordering on groveling response, telling her I’m sick and probably won’t make it in for the rest of the week. I hate lying, but it’s better than admitting the truth. I won’t get paid for the shifts I miss. She might even let me go. But those are problems for another day.

Next, I open the email from Mum. She’s written War and Peace, as usual. I take my trainers off so I can lounge on the bed, my elbow knocking into Ted as I rearrange myself. I pick him up and hug him, hesitantly at first, as I start reading about my family’s antics back in England. Puck’s right, hugging Ted does help. For the half hour it takes to read Mum’s email, I feel less alone. I should reply right away, but I don’t know what to say. Besides, they’re eight hours ahead, so she’ll be asleep.

Instead, I retrieve Nate’s business card and send him a text.

Me: Thanks for earlier. Sorry, I was a bit surly. Zach.

He replies faster than I expect.

Nate: You weren’t. Glad I could help. See you tomorrow?

I take a breath before replying. When I do, I go with simple and to the point: Yes. Before hurriedly sending a second reply: I’d like that.

6

NATE

The next morning, I clear my day, check that Zach is awake, throw on my jogging things, and head to Halo House. I’m there by eight and have to use the buzzer on the gate to be let into the compound. I ring the front doorbell.

A sleepy voice responds through the intercom. “Who is it?”

“Nate. To see Zach, in room seven.”

“Hold on.”

Zach opens the door a couple of minutes later, wearing the same jeans as yesterday, but a different T-shirt. His feet are bare, and his hair is damp, suggesting he’s already showered.

He flicks his gaze over me. “You’re not wearing a jacket today.”

“You noticed. I thought we could go for a run.”

“A run?”

I nod. “Or are you a gym-only kind of guy?”

“No, I like jogging.”

“Great.” Smiling, I hand him a sports bag. “They’re mine, but they should fit you. I’ll wait in the car.”

He hesitates.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know what the press does and doesn’t know about what happened. I haven’t checked. I’m not sure I want to be seen out in public right now. I know I’m not a big name or anything…”

“I understand. Don’t worry. The jogging route I’m thinking of is pretty quiet, especially at this time of day. It’ll be a bit late for the pre-work runners by the time we get there. I doubt we’ll run into anyone else.”

“Pun intended?”