“I knew it. You’re so predictable, Gable Flynn. So, if you hate the sun, where’s your favorite place to be?”
He gestures around us. “Here. Snow. Rain. Endless forest. Quiet.” He rests his forearms on the table and looks me in the eye, dark eyes almost bright tonight. “Is there anything better than being in here when it’s snowing?”
I smile slowly. “No, there’s not.”
It’s hauntingly beautiful on those days, like I’ve stepped into a storybook, like magic is possible. There are moments where I’ll find myself staring out at the heavy falling flakes, imagining myself dancing in the deep snow, spinning and spinning until I’m breathless, lungs full of fresh air, my mind filled with music.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts I don’t notice Gable carefully touch my cheek. He presents me with his finger, an eyelash balanced delicately at the end.
My eyes meet his.
“Make a wish, Gibson.”
Something in my chest flutters, and I quickly stamp it out. I close my eyes and blow gently, and when I reopen an eye, I sigh. “Damn, you’re still here.”
He snorts a laugh and returns to his meal, but I’ve forgotten the fork in my hand. My attention glides over Gable’s features—his strong jaw lined with stubble, a scar by his lip, small, but noticeable now I’m closer. The darkness of his eyes, a brown so steeped in shadows it’s almost black. His straight nose, strong brow, the silky falling of his dark hair.
If he were in my book, who would he be?
A tortured hero.
I smile. Yes.
A man who would give his life for someone who could never love him back.
A good man buried beneath years of betrayal. A man tainted by those who turned their back on him—but who still gives it all up for love.
I return to my meal, fighting the temptation to run up the stairs, open my laptop, and tell Gable Flynn’s story.
We talk about the softer side of life. Silly things that don’t amount to much but fill the quiet. He laughs sometimes, but always quietly, as if he’s trying to hold it back, while I laugh freely and without restraint.
“Tell me a secret about you, Gable Flynn.”
He tuts. “We’ve gone over this before, Gibson.”
“Yes, but it’s different now. Now you can tolerate me.” I grin and push my empty dessert plate aside. Chocolate cake with cream. Delicious. “Tell me.”
Gable finishes his cake, and after moving his plate aside, he runs his tongue over his thick bottom lip to catch a stray bit of cream. He seems to be lost in thought, and I’m so hopeful he’ll answer that I don’t make a sound.
“I used to wish on stars,” he says. The breath I pull in is slow, and I wait for more. “No matter what home I was in or family I was with, there was always one constant thing. I could see stars. I was nine when my mom first left me, ten when I met my first family, but I still hoped she’d come back. With every day she didn’t, I got so angry, because it meant the wishes were going nowhere.” He looks away, out the back wall of windows, to the snow falling beyond. “Every day I’d wake up without her, I would wish, again and again. Years passed. Families came and went. She never came back. Finally, I looked up and decided I was probably only allotted a certain number of wishes and stopped wasting them on her.”
I reach for his hand, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stares at where we’re connected and runs his thumb across my palm.
“The night Asher died, I wished on a star again.” He pulls his hand back. “Another wasted one.”
“Not wasted,” I say quietly, and he meets my eye. “Maybe Asher heard the wish. Can you imagine how much he would’ve loved that? Knowing of all the things you could want, it was for him to come back?”
He tenses his jaw. “I don’t believe in wishes anymore, Gibson.”
“But maybe he did.” I trace my finger across the table. “I told Asher I loved him that night. He’d said it to me in the apartment, and I wasn’t sure how I felt, or what I wanted, but he was dying in my arms, and …” I try to blink away tears but fail. “It felt like the nicest thing to say at the time, whether it was true or not.” I take a deep breath and force a smile. “He got an ‘I love you’ and a wish all in the same night. I may not have known him long, but I know he would’ve been happy with that.”
Gable watches me, and the moment stretches between us.
“What do you want from life, Gibson?” he asks, searching my face. “What’s something you want more than anything?”
The question lifts me, and my smile becomes real, because since losing Asher, I’ve searched for the answer to that question. I’ve always known my happiness comes from my books, but I needed to know more about myself, to understand what makes me happy, and for that to take shape as a plan.
So, on the endless nights I couldn’t sleep, I thought about what I really want.
