Catch Me When I Fall

by Jackson, A. L.

  My cell buzzed in my pocket.

  I dug it out, gritting my teeth when I saw who was calling.

  Shit.

  This was the last thing I needed.

  The group was far enough ahead that they wouldn’t have to be subjected to the conversation, but still, my voice lowered to a growl when I answered, “What?”

  I doubted he expected some kind of pleasantry.

  “I’d like a status update.” Contention clawed through my stepfather’s voice.

  “Everything is progressing as planned.” Didn’t even try to keep the venom out of my voice. Animosity was our normal MO, anyway. Only difference was the bastard didn’t know how far I was willing to take the hatred.

  He scoffed through the line. “As planned? If this were coming along as planned, they would have been signed three months ago. If they think by holding out they’re going to get more money out of me, they are seriously underestimating who I am.”

  My teeth ground so hard I didn’t know how they weren’t dust. Just like the pieces he’d stolen of me. Pieces I was taking back.

  “Not everyone’s choices are driven by greed,” I returned.

  He chuckled. “Ignorant boy. Until you figure out money is what makes the world go round, you won’t be worthy to stand in my shoes. I never should have allowed your mother to talk me into bringing you on. Pathetic. Do I need to send someone else to finish this thing?”

  I fought to keep my cool. To keep from exploding. To keep from telling him that I was nothing like him and I’d never be.

  I’d rather die, and I completely meant that.

  “As I said, it is under control. This band is about trust. Don’t mess up the progress I’ve made by adding someone else to the mix. Believe me, they will not appreciate that.”

  A huff filtered through the line. “You have two days to get this finalized.”

  “That’s not enough time.”

  “Two days,” he repeated, and the line went dead before I had the chance to say anything else.

  Bastard.

  I bit down on a knuckle to keep from hurling a string of expletives into the air. I needed more time. More time to understand where Emily stood and what she needed. More time for her to trust me when I hadn’t given her a reason to do it.

  Real reason? I needed more time to figure out how to do this without hurting her more in the end. Closer I got to her, the more I realized I was walking a thin fucking line. Maybe it was me putting on the brakes.

  The group headed up the walk toward the hotel where we were staying in Mobile. Emily had performed at tonight’s show while I’d stood in the shadows offstage, watching the quivers rolling through her body and the tremors in her voice.

  The girl hostage to fear.

  She’d skipped out on the VIP meet and greet.

  I didn’t think anyone blamed her, all except for the grumble of disappointed fans who’d wanted to be in her space. Didn’t think she quite got that she was the showstopper. The reason. Or maybe the fucked-up thing was that she was becoming mine.

  We entered the luxurious lobby, the lights stark inside, gleaming on the polished white-and-gold floors. Off to the right, an elevator swept open, and the entire group rushed for it as a team.

  Mel hauled Emily along, laughing and playful. Leif, Richard, and Rhys piled in behind them.

  I slowed. Close spaces, Emily, and I did not mix. Or maybe they mixed too well.

  Holding an arm out to keep the elevator door from sliding shut, Rhys popped out his head. “You coming, money man?”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, rocked back on my heels. “Go on, I’ll catch the next.”

  “Ah, we can make room. You afraid we bite?” He grinned, flashing his teeth.

  I almost laughed. “Nah . . . think I’m actually going to grab a drink.”

  Good excuse, right?

  “You need a drinkin’ partner, city boy? I’ll gladly drink you under the table,” Rhys shouted from the elevator door.

  Mel’s head popped out below his, angled up so she could catch his eye. “Uh-uh, Rhys. It’s already after midnight. You’re on the schedule to hit the hotel gym before we pull out tomorrow. No hangovers for you.”

  “You underestimate me, baby. I can totally swing an all-nighter and still put you all to shame in the gym in the morning. I’m a god amongst men!”

  “What you are is the God of BS. Now get your butt back on this elevator,” she demanded.

  “How about a little compromise. You and I pull an all-nighter and get our workout in my bed. It’s a win-win.”

  “In your dreams, cowboy.”

  “Stallion, baby. When are you going to get that through your pretty little head?”

  She shoved at him, and he was howling with laughter as his arm dropped free and the elevator door started to close.

  I caught only a glimpse of the side of Emily’s face.

  Jade eyes soft. Warm with an affection I didn’t deserve.

  The tether that tied us thrummed. A low-pitched frequency that hummed through my body.

  The door fully closed, cutting off the connection.

  Shit.

  I had to end this. Scrape this feeling from my skin. Keep her from sinking into my bones.

  I moved into the mostly empty bar in the hotel lobby, slipped onto a stool, ordered a whiskey. I took a sip from the tumbler, the thick, heady flavor hitting my tongue, and I exhaled a heavy breath, trying to erase all the thoughts and worries and bullshit that threatened to bury me.

  Unable to sit still, I reached into my jacket and pulled out the small journal I carried with me. A tangible reminder of my purpose that sat in my breast pocket right over my bitter, ugly heart. It was what I used to hash out the bullshit decaying in the middle of me.

  I opened it to a blank page, intent on letting my fingers free with some of the hate.

  I let it flow, my hand moving quickly over the page.

  Easily.

  But the words that spilled out were ones I definitely shouldn’t write.

  Fuck.

  I wanted to stop it, this familiar feeling that crested from within. A lure tugging me back into long-since-dead dreams.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed when I sensed it. Skin prickling in awareness. I shifted to look over my shoulder at the short hall that ran off to the side of the bar. It led outside to firepits that overlooked the river the hotel butted against.

  Blonde hair was piled on her head in a messy twist, the girl wearing a sweatshirt that draped off one shoulder and yoga pants.

  Casual.

  Couldn’t say so much about the punch of lust seeing her like that elicited in me.

  The swell of protectiveness that crashed.

  I should stay sitting right here. Same way as I should have done that first night I’d seen her at that bar back in Savannah. Instead, I was tucking the journal back into my pocket, digging out a twenty, and trapping it under the tumbler I’d emptied.

  My shoes echoed on the stark floors, my heart rate catching time, everything slowing and speeding and warping when I pushed out the door.

  My attention darted to the left, then to the right, relief hitting me when I saw she’d curled up on an outdoor couch tucked in the shadows at the far side of the empty patio.

  Flames lapping up.

  Illuminating the soft curve of her face, nose and chin and lips. I wanted to be the one tracing each of them.

  I slowed as I approached.

  I knew she felt me.

  Could tell in the way she hugged her knees tighter to her chest.

  In the energy that spilled to the ground. Rushing. Crashing between us. Her teeth raked anxiously at her bottom lip when I slipped down in the cushioned seat off to the side, her face scrubbed of makeup, everything about her fresh and soft.

  Fuck me.

  She was gorgeous.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked.

  There was no accusation to it. Just interest.

  “Needed to
get out of that room. Get some fresh air.” She huffed a little breath from her nose, fidgeted with her sweatshirt. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “No?”

  She tipped her face to the night sky. A slight breeze blistered through, whipping the tiny strands of her hair, the soft wisps kissing her cheeks. “It’s one of the things that’s been eluding me the most lately. Sleep. Peace.”

  I barely nodded, not sure what to give, how far to push her, what she was ready for. “And you find it out here? Peace?”

  My gaze drifted to the blackened river that snaked through the city, the hotel tucked up close to the river’s edge. Moonlight glittered in the rippling water, and a few sparse lights from boats dotted the expanse.

  She offered me a soft, wistful smile. “Isn’t it, though? Peaceful? When you don’t have a home, I guess you have to find it wherever you go.”

  I dragged a knuckle over my lips. Girl set me off kilter. “Is that what you’re missing? A home?”

  She was back to staring at the endless sky, hugging her knees to her chest. “The road gets hard, you know? Bein’ alone all the time? Surrounded by thousands of people, and still so many times it feels like you’re just . . . there. A prop. Something to be seen but not really heard.”

  “I get that.”

  I did.

  More than she could imagine.

  “Is that what’s stopping you from signing? The road? Traveling? Being on the stage night after night rather than in the comfort of four walls?”

  Is that what she was running toward?

  She exhaled a heavy breath, and a lance of pain struck through her expression. “I want those things. So much. A home and a family. There’s a huge piece of me that is achin’, knowing what I’m missing.”

  I could hear the hesitation in her voice, the girl wavering, close to giving me more.

  “But I want to play music, too,” she added.

  Exposed.

  Vulnerable.

  Beautiful.

  “I want to play. Make it beautiful. Touch people’s hearts even if it’s just in passin’.”

  “You do it better than anyone I’ve met.”

  She forced a playful smile. “Are you tryin’ to come onto me again, Hollywood? Trying to win your way so I’ll finally sign that contract? Sell my soul and my songs to Mylton Records?”

  Her voice hitched somewhere between a tease and a true question.

  Chuckling low, I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my thighs, staring at her through the jumping flames. “Seems I don’t know how not to come onto you, Emily Ramsey. You do something to me that you shouldn’t. But in this case? No. I’m one-hundred-percent sincere. You have to be the most talented person I’ve ever met.”

  A blush colored her cheeks. Heated by the fire. Heated by my unrelenting gaze.

  My fingers itched, wanting to reach out and feel the burn on her skin.

  Her eyes traveled off to the side, the girl warring with something deep. Finally, she turned her attention back to me, her stare hard yet open. Baring herself. “How would Mr. Fitzgerald feel if he knew my songs had run dry? That I haven’t been able to write in months?”

  I had to keep myself from cringing at her statement.

  Traumas did that.

  Stole your inspiration.

  Your faith.

  If you let them, they would steal who you were meant to be.

  I could feel the piece of paper I’d ripped out of the journal burning a hole in my pocket. Desperately, I wanted to comfort her. To just . . . fucking say it. Time was ticking, and still, it was far too soon.

  “If he was smart, he would wait for them. He’d know they would be worth it,” I told her.

  She studied me, like she was trying to pry every single thought from my mind, all while placing her cares in my hands. “And what if they never come? What if that well has gone dry? What if I’ve already broken apart and there’s nothing left to give?”

  “Maybe it’s Mylton Records that doesn’t deserve you, Emily. Just like me.”

  Pain pinched her face. “I . . . I think I need to tell you somethin’.”

  She blinked a bunch of times.

  My heart twisted into a thousand knots.

  Thunder hammered in my chest.

  I swallowed hard. “I’m listening.”

  She cringed, fidgeted, dropped her gaze. “It’s nothin’.”

  I slipped forward, angling my head so I could capture her eye. “It’s not nothing if it means something to you.”

  Warily, she peered up at me.

  Two of us trapped.

  Prisoners to whatever the fuck this feeling was. Something unfound. Bigger than I’d ever experienced.

  Impossible.

  She shifted that sexy body on the couch, letting her feet drop to the ground as she edged my way a fraction.

  Intensity lit.

  Banged in the bare space between us.

  I had to stifle a groan. Had to fucking remind myself fifteen thousand times that I couldn’t have her. Had to clench my fists to keep from driving my fingers into her hair and kissing her wild.

  “Why’s it like this between us?” she finally whispered, blinking like she’d just been imagining me doing the exact same thing. “Why is it that every time I get in your space, I feel like that’s where I belong? You make me feel like I can spread my wings. Fly even when I’m fallin’. Like I can tell you anything.”

  There was nothing I could do, nothing but lean in closer and set my hand on her sweet face.

  Felt like I was struck by a bolt of lightning.

  A crackle of energy streaking up my arm.

  “You will fly, Emily. Right now, you might have had your wings clipped, but I promise, you were meant to soar. You are a fucking star.”

  She pressed deeper into my hold, inhaling, eyes dropping closed as she relished in my touch. Slowly, those jade eyes fluttered back open. “How’s it possible that you make me remember wanting to be that? How’s it possible that you make me want at all?”

  My heart clutched.

  “Your happiness is the only thing that matters, Emily. And that’s not something I can give you.”

  There I went, pushing her away when I needed her close. But I didn’t know how to do this. How to fucking take what I needed without destroying another piece of her.

  “Are you tryin’ to wreck me a little more, Royce Reilly, because you sayin’ things like that sure don’t make me want you any less.”

  Sadness and need pulled through her expression.

  A plea.

  I wanted to drop to my knees and give her anything she asked for.

  “No, Emily, I’m trying to be the man who comes up alongside you and reminds you of how amazing you are.”

  “I bet we’d be amazin’ together.”

  Shit.

  This woman was testing my willpower. A second away from putting it to shame.

  Loved that she was brave. That she was asking for what she wanted.

  “It would be wrong for me to touch you again. We got caught up that night. That’s all. We can’t do this.”

  Every fucking word felt like the cut of a knife.

  Rejection moved through her features, and she sat back, peeling herself away, girl fidgeting in unease as she fumbled to standing. “I think I better call it a night.”

  Her smile was as forged as the documents I’d found in my stepfather’s office. Though hers was done with grace. Softness. As a way to protect rather than to destroy.

  I eased up to standing, towering over her. Like a fool, I dragged my fingertips over her plush lips. “To sleepless nights.”

  A shiver rocked her, my actions tossing her in violent waters. Dragged forward before she was sent flailing back. Her lips trembled at one side, and she sidestepped out of the sitting area. The tether that bound us stretched tighter and tighter as she shuffled away.

  Every step, she was taking a little bit more of me with her.

  Like she couldn’t take the pressure, ei
ther, she paused, and turned to look back at me from over her shoulder.

  Face soft and hopeful.

  Brave and scared.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” she asked.

  Visions flashed. Me peeling those scraps of fabric off her body. Exposing all that sweet flesh. My dick pushing into all that tight, wet heat.

  I had to get her away from me before I made another terrible, terrible mistake. Before I went for her. Took her. Fucked her fast and touched her slow.

  She’d let me.

  I knew she would.

  But getting lost in her wasn’t an option. It couldn’t happen.

  “That’s a bad idea, Emily. I won’t be another of your mistakes.”

  As it was, I was going to be nothing but a bad fucking memory.

  Her gaze softened, emotion passing between us, something real that I needed to ignore.

  She gave an awkward, fumbling nod. “Okay then.”

  She turned and slipped back through the double doors.

  I watched her move through the hall running the edge of the bar, the girl glancing back once when she made it to the elevators.

  Standing there, I watched her go, possession and my greed filling me full.

  I refused it.

  I waited ten minutes before I finally blew out a strained breath, headed inside, and rode the elevator to the ninth floor where our rooms were. I took a left down one hall then a right down another, knowing I needed to lock myself in my room. To put as many barriers between us as possible.

  But it didn’t matter.

  I paused outside her door.

  So what if I’d made it my business to know her room number each night?

  Wavering, I angled my ear, listening inside. Could hear her strumming aimlessly at the chords she’d been trying to play that day on the bus.

  God, I was asking for all kinds of trouble, overstepping boundaries I shouldn’t take. Still, I slipped the piece of paper under her door.

  Before I did something stupid like knock, I made a beeline for my room. As soon as I stepped into the darkness, I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it onto a chair. I went straight into the suite’s bathroom and peeled off my clothes.

  Revealing the scars that lined my body.