Catch Me When I Fall

by Jackson, A. L.

  Maybe it was right then that I knew I’d never allow anyone to hurt her.

  Not ever again.

  Nine

  Emily

  I belted the lyrics to the crowd that was held in rapture.

  My heart overflowing.

  It was insane to think how thousands of strangers could gather in the same place and feel the same thing.

  Music making us one.

  Connecting us in a way that I was certain nothing else in the world could.

  It was an upbeat song we were playing. One that shouldn’t hold the power to bring tears to my eyes. But emotion was riding high. A feeling coming over me that I hadn’t felt in so long as I sang into the mic.

  My feet might be walking these city streets

  I’m sure I’ve never been so alone

  I might be surrounded

  But I’m wonderin’ if it’s ever gonna feel like home

  Because baby . . . baby, I’ll always be country at heart

  Baby . . . baby, I’ll always be country at heart

  When I stepped back and started to clap to the beat, Richard drove into the guitar solo, his fingers flying across the frets. My brother had the entire crowd going wild. Riding a high unlike any other.

  I stepped back up to the mic, and I gave the final lines my all.

  Because, baby . . . baby I’ll always be country at heart

  And this country heart will always belong to you

  I’ll always belong to you

  I held the last note, my chest tight as my voice soared to the ceiling.

  Joy bloomed as bright as the flashes of lights that strobed in my eyes. The last of the song trailed off, and a roar of applause took its place.

  An overwhelming thunder.

  Shock blistered through my being.

  I did it.

  Oh my god, I did it.

  I nearly slumped forward with the magnitude of the relief that I felt. It was the first show I’d played in three months that I didn’t feel as if I might fall apart. Break down in front of the world with nothing left to give.

  I dipped down in the deepest bow. Gratitude poured off me in waves.

  The roar of the crowd only grew.

  “Birmingham, you are beautiful. Thank you for welcoming us tonight. We will never forget you!” I was smiling as I issued the statement under the shimmer of stage lights, my breaths still short and choppy from the performance.

  My brother moved to the edge of the stage, and he reached down to touch the hands that were lifted high, stretching out, as if they were begging for just a moment more.

  He stepped back and tossed his guitar pick into the crowd. “I love you, Birmingham! Goodnight!”

  His small token incited a scramble of flailing arms and diving bodies vying to catch it. It was funny how one little piece of plastic could almost cause a riot. But the real riot broke out when Rhys peeled off his sweaty tee, the way he did night after night, revealing his carved, chiseled body.

  “You are the fuckin’ best! Thanks for an amazing show!” Screams erupted from below, a slew of bleeding hearts begging for his attention. The boy was as sexy as they came, and he knew it, too, a showman all the way down to the marrow. He twirled the shirt above his head before he sent it sailing into the tumult roiling at the foot of the stage.

  It was a crush of diving women and whipping hair.

  Our own, personal pot stirrer. Always lookin’ for trouble. If he couldn’t find it, he was always happy to cause it.

  He just grinned, chuckled into the mic attached to his ear, not saying another word as he sauntered off the stage.

  The cockiest boy with the biggest heart.

  I bit down on my bottom lip, almost surprised by the laughter I could feel bubbling up from inside.

  I felt . . . good.

  Better than good.

  Amazing.

  Free.

  As if a little bit of myself had been unchained tonight.

  Immediately, my attention was dragged to the wings of the stage.

  Drawn.

  Compelled.

  As if I could sense the power of the potent, decadent gaze. But I guessed that I really could. Because Royce was there, barely concealed by the curtains, staring back at me.

  Our gazes met in a tangle of confusion and need.

  My heart stammered a reckless beat.

  I wanted to refuse to believe his presence had any bearing on my holding it together during tonight’s show. Wanted to dispute the idea that I’d somehow found the peace I’d been missing with the knowledge that he was standing nearby.

  Watching.

  Protecting.

  But I didn’t have time to contemplate all of that right then, so I handed my guitar to one of the stagehands and headed toward the wings with the intent to put him fully out of my mind.

  Wishful thinking.

  Every step that I took got slower and slower the closer I came to where he was standing, caught up in the gripping energy that pulsed and shivered and shook me to the core.

  God, this was crazy.

  Crazy that a single man could evoke this reaction in me.

  Our shoulders touched as I passed.

  A bolt of electricity streaked through my body.

  I sucked in a staggered breath, my pulse thudding out of sync.

  Oh God, what was he doin’ to me?

  Melanie was instantly at my side, and I ducked my head, trying to tear myself from the magnetism that pulled me in the opposite direction.

  “Girl, you killed it tonight,” Melanie gushed. “You are back on top, right where you belong. Goodness, the entire place was going mad over you. That last song . . . you are ridiculous.” She waved her hand emphatically. “It shouldn’t be legal to be able to sing like that.”

  She didn’t even pause before she shifted gears, right back to business. “Let’s get you to the green room. You have ten minutes before VIP ticket holders will start to be let in. Grab some water, pee if you need to, shine up your nose. Maybe wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

  With the last, she knocked her hip into mine, and I found myself giggling.

  It felt so right.

  “You want me to stop smilin’ now?” I asked as we jostled through the chaos happening backstage.

  “Hell, no. It’s the first time I’ve seen you this happy in ages. I was getting worried about you.”

  “I told you I was fine.”

  Only now it actually felt like it might be true.

  We ducked into the green room, and I went right for the bucket filled with ice and waters, cracked the lid off one and guzzled the entire thing.

  Richard, Rhys, and Leif piled in behind us.

  Rhys threw a fist in the air. “Yeah, baby girl, you killed it tonight! Did you feel that? Holy shit, energy was out of control. Our girl is unstoppable!”

  Redness flushed my cheeks, and there was nothing I could do to stop my grin, hope brimming wide. Threatening to overflow. “I don’t think I couldn’t have felt that,” I admitted with a disbelieving shake of my head. “I don’t think there was a person out there tonight immune to it.”

  “That’s because it was fuckin’ brilliant. Off the hizzle. Hittin’ ’em hard with the sizzle.”

  Yeah, Rhys actually rapped it, sliding his hands like he was skipping a record.

  Leif shook his head. “Melanie was right. We’re leaving you at the next city.”

  Richard chuckled a little, roughing a hand over his sweaty face, his attention sliding to me, casting me in a warm glance.

  Affection.

  Relief.

  I knew my brother was as thankful as I was that I’d somehow managed to find my groove.

  “Five minutes,” Melanie called.

  The guys were grabbing waters, so I popped into the small dressing room that really wasn’t more than a closet and dug my phone out of my bag so I could snag my own pics with fans.

  It was something that had always meant something to me, the scrapbooks I mad
e with the pictures I took with fans. I loved capturing these moments of the band. Our faces and expressions after a show. The encounters with the people who supported us most.

  Phone in hand, I dipped back out. Leif and Richard were standing face-to-face, two of them enthralled in a conversation, Leif gesturing wildly. Richard nodded emphatically.

  Clearly, they were discussing one of Leif’s epiphanies. The guy was so creative. Hit with ideas that flowed from him like a handwritten story.

  On the other side of the room, Rhys had Melanie tossed over a shoulder, throwing her around in some kind of celebration that I was pretty sure she was gonna make him pay for later.

  I’d put down money that Rhys didn’t mind paying the price.

  I grinned at the scene.

  It was so normal.

  So right.

  I did my best not to search for Royce. Like a fool, wondering where he had disappeared to. If he’d stayed. If he was thinking about me the way I was thinking about him.

  A little worried I was gettin’ obsessed.

  But that’s what crushes did. They mashed you up inside, twisting you in a knot of attraction. Heart, mind, and body tied.

  Needing a distraction, I peeked at my phone. When I saw there was a text I’d missed, I swiped the screen and entered my passcode.

  My brow pulled together as my gaze moved over the message.

  Confusion quickly morphed to dread.

  Freezing every cell in terror.

  Unknown Number: Miss me? Don’t worry, Emmy Love, it won’t be long now.

  To anyone else, the message would appear innocuous. Friendly, even. But I knew . . . I knew it was meant to be cruel. To insight fear. An outright threat.

  My hands started to shake. A cold, clammy sweat gathered at my nape. A rush of dizziness almost canted me to the side.

  I squeezed my phone.

  Tight.

  Maybe what I was really hoping to do was crush it. In the process, crush him.

  I refused to let him taunt me. Not like this. I was stronger than this. Braver than this.

  A hand landed on my shoulder.

  Screeching, I jumped about ten feet in the air.

  Rhys cracked up. “Emily Iris, you are the jumpiest little thing on the planet.”

  Turning around to face him, I forced the wobbliest, fakest smile. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

  He didn’t need to know he’d almost sent me into a tailspin.

  He gestured to himself. “It’s all the ninja skills.”

  Melanie rolled her brown eyes, her ponytail swishing over her shoulders as she readjusted her shirt. “You’re about as inconspicuous as a stampede of bulls.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m as light as a feather.” He bounced around on his toes and threw some fake jabs.

  “More like an avalanche of boulders.”

  “Boulders? What are you sayin’? I remind you of a set of big balls, Mells Bells? I know you love me. You can just come right out and say it. No need for innuendo.”

  “Gross. Clear enough for you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Ah, you are cruel, gorgeous. Lucky for you, I’m a man who likes punishment.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “Feel free to encourage me any time.”

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “Case in point. Now go put on a damn shirt, it’s about time to start letting people in.”

  “Believe me, baby, they want me just like this.” Rhys rocked his hips, sweat dripping from his abdomen.

  “Gross,” she said again. “And there are children out there.”

  “Fine, fine.” He was grinning like mad when he pulled a fresh tee over his head, and I was just standing there, trying to hold it together. To pretend as if I was with them.

  Feeling their ease and joy.

  Acting like that one stupid text message didn’t have me close to falling apart.

  I couldn’t let myself. Not after we’d finally gotten a glimpse of normalcy.

  “You good?” Melanie asked, stumbling a little when she noticed my expression.

  “Totally.”

  Lies. Lies. Lies.

  Maybe if I told myself enough of them, I would start to believe them myself.

  She hesitated, searching my face. Finally, she conceded with a soft, concerned smile that told me she didn’t fully believe me, either, before she turned back to the rest of the group and snapped her fingers in the air. “It’s time.”

  She strode out the door to give the security guard the go, and I shuffled over to where Richard and Leif had gathered by the Carolina George banner, Rhys right on my heels.

  Melanie led in the first group.

  It was a mother and her two young daughters. Maybe six and eight. Both of them were holding poster boards, I love you Carolina George written in glitter and stars, as bright as the stars that were shining in their eyes.

  This . . . this was what made it all worth it. What made me want to fight. To stand up and be brave and bold and take a stance rather than keeping this festering secret hidden for a second longer.

  I just didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to force it from my tongue.

  The mother ushered her girls forward. “It’s so nice to meet you, Emily. This is Saige and Becca. They’re a little shy, but believe me, they are very excited to meet you.”

  She was hovering over them, her arms stretched out like a safety net. Caring and protective and full of excitement for her children just because she knew this would make them happy.

  My heart pressed full at seeing such a sweet family.

  Sorrow and joy.

  Sorrow and joy.

  I knelt down. “Hi, there. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  The youngest one stepped forward. As cute as could be, her voice tiny and musical, and a slice of pain panged in the middle of me.

  A little piece of my soul crying out for what it had lost.

  “Hi, Emily,” she drawled with the tiniest lisp. “I’m Saige. I’m your biggest fan in the whole world. You are so pretty. I like your eyes.”

  A tender smile pulled across my face. “Well, I like your eyes, too. Did you have fun at the show tonight?”

  She nodded. “It was my favorite in the world, and my favorite song in the world is ‘Heartstruck.’ I can sing it good. You wanna hear?”

  She belted out a line in her little girl drawl.

  Right then, I was the one that was heartstruck.

  “I’m glad I got to sing it for you tonight, but wow, I think you sing it way better than I do.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I turned to her sister. “How about you? What’s your favorite song?”

  Her eyes went round as saucers, as if she couldn’t believe I was talkin’ to her, and I could feel the tension drain away. The fear I’d felt a moment ago was pushed down into the recesses because moments like these mattered too much.

  I needed to be present. To be right and good. I wanted to give it all. To be my best. To be an example for young girls like this.

  And how could I do that when I was running from everything? If I couldn’t take a stance?

  “I . . . I . . . all of them,” she said.

  Gratitude and hope pulsed through my veins.

  They both passed me keepsake books they’d made with pictures of our album covers pasted on the pages inside. I grinned as I signed them, then grinned even wider when their mama took a picture of the three of us.

  “Thank you so much,” their mama said. “I don’t think I can express what this means to them.”

  “We’re just thankful for you supportin’ us. We couldn’t do this without you.”

  I glanced up at the guys who were getting no love.

  Poor boys.

  They didn’t need to worry. I was pretty sure we could expect a fangirl or two.

  Oh, and were there ever. Rhys got about fifteen marriage proposals, a slew of phone numbers, and a few
keys to hotel rooms.

  He accepted them all.

  No surprise there.

  Only question was who he’d actually grace with his presence tonight.

  Richard and Leif got a whole lot of propositions, too.

  Richard always refrained. A stab of sadness hit me. I still couldn’t fathom why he’d given up what had meant most. Why he would walk away.

  Leif was all too excited to show off the band he’d recently had tattooed on his ring finger.

  A symbol of his forever.

  We signed, and we smiled, and we posed until I was close to being spent and still feeling better than I thought I had in years.

  “Only a few more,” Melanie promised, leading out an older couple and letting in the next group.

  It was four guys . . . barely men, really.

  Raucous and rowdy.

  The stench of beer came off them in nauseating waves, their movements a little unruly and their voices slurred.

  My chest gave a little lurch. A vibration of a warning.

  I swallowed it down.

  This was all part of the game. They were just looking for a good time. I had no right to begrudge them that.

  Still, I couldn’t stop the small throb of panic as they came closer.

  “Holy shit, it’s Carolina George! Is this real life?” one of them shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “Day fuckin’ made!”

  Richard chuckled and reached for the shirt he wanted him to sign. “We’re just thankful you’re here, man. Songs don’t mean anything if there isn’t someone there to listen to them. We appreciate your support.”

  “Fuck yeah. We had to buy these tickets from a scalper, but it was worth every penny. Show was off the hook.”

  “Glad to hear you think we’re worth it,” Rhys said as he was signing a baseball cap.

  “Best show this year. You guys nailed it. Way better than when you were opening for A Riot of Roses. Dickbags sucked.”

  My entire body flinched with the mention of that band. Time spun backward. Rushing to catch up to tonight’s text. The two of them paired left my knees weak and my stomach turning.

  Hold it together, Em. You can do this. A few minutes more. That’s it, I silently told myself.

  Besides, that’s what that bastard wanted, anyway. He wanted me trembling with fear. Cowering. Giving in.