Catch Me When I Fall

by Jackson, A. L.

  He deserved no forgiveness.

  Bones cracked, blood splattering as I struck him.

  Again and again.

  Consumed by this madness.

  By this rage.

  Hands grabbed me from behind, trying to drag me off. I only fought harder to get to him.

  “Royce, stop! Dude, fucking stop! It’s done. It’s done.”

  Air raking my throat, Richard hauled me off the bloodied heap of the prick who lay moaning on the ground. Face mangled and unrecognizable.

  I thrashed, needing to get in one more hit.

  “Cool it, dude,” Richard demanded. “Calm the fuck down.”

  “Oh my god.” Emily’s mother rushed around the side of the house. “What happened?”

  Her gaze moved around the scene, calculating, adding it up, and she dropped down to kneel at the side of the bastard like he deserved any grace or good.

  Not when he was trying to wreck it.

  Except she gripped him by the jaw, leaning over him, spitting the words, “I do not ever want to see you on my property again. Do you understand me, Nile?”

  She stood. “Someone get this garbage off my lawn.”

  Richard kept my arms pinned behind me as she moved for Emily, who was huddled with Rhys’s mother over by the side of the house.

  Horror etched on her gorgeous face, fear in her eyes.

  I wanted to feel it.

  Regret.

  Remorse for doing what I’d done.

  But I couldn’t will it to come.

  Because I was a monster. Just like I’d warned her from the beginning.

  Retribution was coming.

  And I’d only just begun.

  Twenty

  Royce

  Blood-tinged water swirled in the tub where I stood under the steaming spray of the shower, the color fading to clear as I scrubbed away the evidence. Every inch of my body was on fucking fire, skin covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts that I was happy to wear like a brand.

  One sleazebag down. Only a couple more to go.

  After rinsing the last of the residue from my flesh, I turned off the shower, stepped out onto the rug, and grabbed the fresh towel Mrs. Ramsey had left me with when she’d told me I should get cleaned up. That was right before the woman had whispered a quiet, “Thank you,” under her breath and shut the door, leaving me alone with the disorder still rioting in my spirit.

  I dried myself off, the steam of the room sticky on my skin, a clammy sensation coming up from the inside.

  How the fuck had I let everything get so far out of control?

  Slipping.

  Royce Reilly was known for his discipline and restraint.

  His ability to get a job done.

  Which was why my stepfather had put so much trust and faith in me when I knew it was about the last thing he’d wanted to do.

  I was valuable.

  An asset.

  And now I was one mistake away from blowing the whole thing. From missing the purpose.

  Fuck.

  I could still get my ass hauled away to jail for what just went down. With my record? I’d probably land back in prison for years.

  But how could I not stand up for her?

  A light tapping sounded at the door.

  Heaving out a strained breath, I wrapped the towel around my waist, completely on edge when I cracked open the door to the darkened hallway, not sure who or what was going to be waiting for me on the other side.

  Richard.

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned up against the open doorway, eyes making a quick sweep to see what damage had been done. Taking in the cuts and the blossoming patches of blue and purple and red.

  Letting loose a low whistle, he looked up to meet my face, arching a brow. “You good, man?”

  I laughed out an incredulous sound. “Just perfect.”

  He gave a tight nod. “You caused some mad destruction out there.”

  “Fucker deserved it.”

  “Yeah, he did.” I wasn’t sure if I was surprised by his response or not. “Kind of wished it was me who got to do the honors. But looking at you now? Have to say I’m glad I let you step up and take the fall.”

  He had the nerve to grin.

  Short laughter rumbled out. “Pussy.”

  He chuckled. “Hey, just speaking the truth. You look a little rough for the wear.”

  I raked a hand through my wet hair. “Feel a little rough, honestly.”

  The second of lightness morphed, his brow knitting with worry.

  “Don’t know you all that well, but it seems to me you short-circuited out there.”

  Discomfort had me fidgeting, muscles rigid. “Some things are worth losing your mind over.”

  Contemplation moved through his expression before he leaned back to glance both ways down the empty hall where we were on the second floor, making sure it was clear before he turned his focus back on me. “I’m not going to ask you why you went ballistic. I think it’s plenty obvious. Only thing I’m going to say is don’t play fucking games, man. My sister has been played enough.”

  “Last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

  Remorse drew his brow together. “And the last thing I want is to see her hurt.” He hesitated, casting his attention to the ground before he looked back at me, some kind of worried confession in his tone. “Listen . . . my sister . . . she implied she knows about some shit goin’ down in my life right now. Pretty sure you were implying it, too.”

  He searched my face.

  Rage banged against my ribs. I tamped it down. “Shit goes down in Hollywood all the time, Ramsey. Sex, drugs, and rock & roll. Isn’t that what they say?”

  Wasn’t sure I could give him anything. He couldn’t be trusted if he was involved in anything with Cory Douglas.

  His lips pursed in remorse. “Yeah, well, I stumbled into that bullshit on accident, Royce. Not sure what you know, but I need you to understand I never wanted to get mixed up in it. Tryin’ to get out. Make sure this band remains unscathed. Just . . . can you find out what she knows? How involved she is? Need to make sure she’s safe.”

  “Maybe you should actually talk to your sister.”

  “Have tried a thousand times, man. She shuts me down. Tells me she’s fine. Know she’s putting on a front, and I don’t know how to help her if she won’t let me see. Need to make sure she’s good. I can’t risk her.”

  My own guilt pulsed. “Like I told you, the last thing I want is to see her hurt.”

  He stepped back, pinned me to the spot with a hard gaze. “Then don’t let her.”

  “I only want to do what is best for her.”

  “You gonna tell her who you are? What your history is?”

  If only he knew the half of it.

  Trying to hold it together, I attempted to scrape the misery from my voice. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “You care about my sister? Then uncomplicate it.”

  “Life’s not always that cut and dry.”

  He staked his fingers through his hair, looking to the ground before looking back up at me. “No. But when we care about someone? We give all we have. All it takes. No matter the cost.”

  With that, he left me standing there without the chance to respond. Like I’d have a good response, anyway. Like I could change any of this. Go back and erase it and be something better.

  Huffing out a breath, I finished drying off and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a tee. No sign of another clean-cut suit.

  Guessed my life really was coming to a head.

  Finally, I forced myself out into the dimly lit hall. Most of the lights in the house had been cut, everything silent and stilled, like all the spirits locked up behind closed bedroom doors were being held hostage by the uneasy buzz that remained in the atmosphere.

  I started for the guest room at the end of the hall.

  I made it halfway past Emily’s door before I fumbled to a stop.

  Held.

  Tugged back by th
e need to go to her.

  To touch her face and whisper her name.

  Muted light glowed from under her door, like her soul was spilled across the floor.

  I looked to the empty guest room at the end of the hall, trying to convince myself to take the fifteen steps to get there.

  But no.

  There I was—rapping my knuckles lightly at the wood that separated us, my forehead pressed to it, sure she could feel me the exact same way I felt her.

  Pulled.

  Drawn.

  Hooked.

  Movement stirred from the other side, and the door creaked open an inch.

  One of those green eyes peered out through the crack, soft and sad and eager.

  Like she had been expecting me.

  Waiting for me.

  “Royce.” My name sounded like honey on her tongue.

  Need twisted in my guts.

  Delirium.

  Lust.

  “Hey,” I grunted low, looking away before I dragged my gaze back to the one who had the power to change everything. “Wanted to check on you.”

  Those eyes moved over me as she edged the door open farther.

  I got hit with a wave of her.

  A swell that nearly knocked me off my feet. Cherries and the sky and all things good. She’d showered and changed, that hair tied loosely on her head, wearing black sleep shorts and a draping cream-colored sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, that delicate flesh glowing like moonshine.

  “You wanted to check on me?” she whispered so low, with so much disbelief that I felt my heart clutch, my spirit trying to prepare itself for the rejection. For the moment when this girl finally realized that I was no good.

  Her teeth raked at her bottom lip, and her chest heaved before her hand was coming out to lightly brush across the small cut on my cheek. “Look at you. I can’t believe you got yourself in the middle of that for me.”

  Could feel my face pinch up in my own disbelief. “I’d do it a million times over if it meant protecting you. The only thing I regret is that you had to witness it. That I lost control like that in front of you.”

  Her head shook. “That was on him, Royce. He was the instigator of hate. Of violence. You were just protectin’ me. Why’s it feel like that’s what you have to keep doing?”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m meant to do.”

  There I went. Spouting the things I shouldn’t say.

  “I hate that you feel like you need to take care of me. That I’m helpless.”

  A hiss of refusal pushed between my clenched teeth, and I edged a step into her room, backing her inside. I snapped the door shut behind us.

  Instantly, I felt the walls close in. The air grew dense and deep, so thick it was hard to move.

  She stood in the middle of it like an anchor.

  A beacon.

  Soulshine.

  So stunning, she was the only thing I could see.

  “You think I think you’re helpless?” My head shook as I took another step toward her. “You think I don’t see how hard it is for you to walk out on that stage night after night? That I don’t feel your fear? Your struggles? And you do it, anyway. Because you’re a fighter.”

  With shaky fingers, she reached out and traced along the angle of my face. “You are the fighter, Royce. A defender and a guard. It’s becoming harder and harder to stand without you.”

  A grimace pulled to my mouth, and Emily turned away and slowly moved over to her window. Tendrils of blonde cascaded down her back, falling free of the twist. She crossed her arms over her chest, the girl’s shoulders heaving as she stared out into the night.

  “We all deserve to have someone stand beside us. All of us, Emily. I’m here for you . . . because I want to be. Because there’s nothing I want to see more than you becoming every single thing you were meant to be. You are a star.”

  Fuck.

  I wanted to be that person for her.

  Wanted to be good enough.

  Right enough.

  “Royce . . . there is something I need to tell you, and I need to start from the beginning.”

  She peeked back at me before she continued, “Nile and I?”

  The thought of the two of them together sent possession streaking through my bloodstream.

  She froze as if she felt the force of it. She hugged herself tighter, her confession so quiet as she murmured it into the shadows lapping in the room.

  “We were gonna have a baby.”

  Pain flooded from her when she made the confession.

  Every cell in my body cringed.

  Twisted and gnarled.

  At the same time, her entire body seized for a single moment.

  The two of us tied in that second.

  Sharing grief.

  Thing was, I wasn’t sure which of us the torment was coming from.

  Visions assaulted me—so severe I felt them like bullets. An infant in my arms. Her tiny cries. Her sweet face. My hand darted out to the wall to keep myself standing.

  When Emily looked back at me again, tears soaked her face.

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Panic had me loosing the words. A coward who didn’t know if he could handle hearing her truth. The girl was fully offering her trust to me, and I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with it any longer.

  No longer sure I could see this through.

  My intentions blurry.

  Fading into the background of this girl who’d become the light inside of me.

  She shifted to face me. “After tonight? I need to tell you this, Royce. I need you to listen. I need you to hear me. I need you to know all the pieces of me.”

  My spirit lurched.

  Making a play to meet with her. I forced myself to remain rooted by the door when she shifted around to face me.

  “We were together for years, Royce. Years. Having a family was the one thing I knew for certain I wanted for my life. I always wanted to play. To sing and bring songs to life. To whisper hope into people’s ears when maybe they needed to hear it most. Is it wrong that the one thing I needed to hear the most was someone callin’ me Mama?”

  She pressed her hands to her chest like she was trying to hold that broken part of her heart inside.

  I had to stop myself from dropping to my knees.

  I wanted to rush her. Wrap her up and promise her I would fix it.

  Moisture clouded those jade eyes, the girl chewing at her bottom lip like she was praying I could understand even a small amount of her grief.

  She didn’t get that I felt it like a punch to the gut.

  That I got it on a level that had sent me spiraling for years.

  “I was so happy, Royce.” Emily whispered it. A choked confession as she turned that gorgeous gaze up to me. “But when I lost the baby?”

  Her expression wrenched and grief stalled her words. “It was like there was a bolt that no longer fit. A piece that was no longer holding us together.”

  There wasn’t anything I could do but move her way.

  Drawn.

  The girl a flame.

  A light I couldn’t turn away from.

  I brushed back a lock of hair matted to her cheek.

  “I get it, Emily. I get it.” The words were razors raking my throat. “Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to anyone.”

  Emily’s gaze moved over me. Need and hope and everything I was terrified of shining back. “That’s why I’m telling you, Royce . . . because I know you get me. You’re not gonna make light of something that was so important to me.” She swallowed hard. “A part of me hated Nile for not being there for me, for drifting away, but there’s a bigger part that knows I pushed him away.”

  She pressed both her hands to her flat stomach. “Afterward, I felt so empty. My heart no longer felt right. No longer beat right. I couldn’t even conjure up an ‘I miss you’ when I talked with him on the phone.”

  Desperate, I cradled her face in my hands. Night wrapped us in shadows.

>   Angling my head, I dipped down, my nose brushing hers. “That’s not your fault. You don’t have to feel guilty for mourning. Not ever.”

  I tried to sound reasonable. To cover up the misery cutting me to shreds.

  She reached up and gripped me by the wrists.

  Hanging on like I was a lifeline.

  A buoy.

  “I was pretty sure I’d hit rock bottom. Depression took me over. The spark I’d felt to sing and play dimmed so far that I thought it might have been extinguished. But I had no idea how bad it was goin’ to get.”

  Emily’s eyes pleaded with me to see.

  Like she wanted me to reach inside and see all that she had suffered.

  Hold it.

  Fuck, I wanted to.

  I increased my hold. “You can tell me anything, Emily. You can trust me.”

  Fear traipsed across her face. The same fear she’d been wearing since I met her. “Rich . . . h-h-he got himself into trouble. Into something that I can’t even process or understand.”

  My chest fisted. Knew well enough where she was going with this. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

  Agony pulsed through her expression. “Cory Douglas . . . he’s involved in something wicked, Royce. Something so bad that it hurts just thinking about it. And my brother . . . I . . . I think he might be wrapped up in the middle of it.” Her voice lowered in dread.

  To a hurt I could feel cutting her wide open.

  “Cory . . . after one of the shows we opened for his band, he lured me to his hotel room. He said he needed to talk with me.”

  Fury raced. This overwhelming need to annihilate taking me over. Completely.

  Fuck justice.

  Fuck my freedom.

  I’d gladly spend my life rotting behind bars if it meant it would keep this look off Emily’s face.

  “I should have known, Royce . . . I should have known. There was this . . . chill in the air. Evil. I could feel it crawling over my skin. Lifting the hairs at the nape of my neck.”

  She blinked a bunch of times, like she was trying to see but wanted to block the memories at the same time.

  “The second I stepped through the door, he had me pinned against the wall. He grabbed me by the jaw and he . . . he said my brother had taken what was his and he’d chosen me to pay off his debt.”

  A shudder rolled down Emily’s spine.