The Spiral Down

by Aly Martinez

  It was time to stop punishing myself for Shannon’s mistakes.

  And, as if the stars had aligned, Henry was my reward.

  “What the fuck was that?” he panted as I shifted off his lap.

  Smiling, I turned to kiss him. Only the absolute horror that painted his face stopped me in my tracks.

  “Uh…” I stammered when coherent thought failed me. “What’s wrong?”

  He scrambled to his feet, blinking at me as though I’d just maimed him. He hadn’t even removed the condom before he started snatching up his clothes.

  “Henry?” I called, standing up with him. I took a step toward him, but he backed away. “What’s going on?” I asked cautiously, thoroughly confused.

  He shook his head and started tugging on his shirt.

  I lifted my cupped hand in his direction. “Let me clean this up. I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded, but it was empty. The shell of the man was standing in front of me, but his mind was a million miles away. And I was clueless as to where he’d gone or, better yet, why he’d left. The sex had been incredible, but clearly, something grievous had happened in Henry’s head.

  By the time I returned from the bathroom, he was dressed and pulling on his shoes.

  “Where are you going?” I asked in shock.

  He didn’t lift his head when he replied, “Home. I need to check on Robin.”

  I tagged my jeans off the floor and tugged them on. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

  His head popped up, and the blue eyes that usually ignited me landed on me like a bucket of water extinguishing the coals. “No. I’m good. Besides, I have to leave in the morning.”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m flying you.”

  He scoffed. “No. You aren’t.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. I am. There is no fucking way I’m letting you get on a plane with someone else. We discussed this.”

  “We didn’t discuss anything!” he roared, every muscle in his neck straining under the exertion.

  My mind was spinning from his sudden eruption, but as he darted toward my front door, I knew I wasn’t letting him leave. Not like that.

  Catching his arm, I spun him to face me. “What the hell is going on with you right now?”

  With a pointed glance at my hand, he growled, “Let me go.”

  I laughed humorlessly. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not letting you go. Not now. Hell, maybe not ever.”

  His face softened for the briefest of seconds, but he quickly covered it. “There’s nothing to hold on to. You were never mine to begin with.”

  The pain was staggering. His words felt like a thousand tiny daggers, each one slicing through me in rapid succession. Unable to formulate a response, I stumbled back from the verbal assault.

  “Yeah,” he breathed, taking a menacing step in my direction. “I don’t date gay guys, Evan.”

  My name was his kill shot, and for the way it seared through me, it hit right on target.

  I wasn’t even sure why I was under fire, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there and take it without a fight.

  “I’m not fucking gay.”

  He patronizingly tipped his head. “No? Then what do you call what we just did? And, better yet, what do you call all the times you’ve done it with men before me? Because I know good and damn well no straight man fucks like that.”

  Story of my Goddamn life.

  Not gay.

  Not straight.

  Not enough.

  “I never said I was straight, either,” I seethed through clenched teeth.

  He snatched his arm from my hold. “You never said anything!”

  “Bullshit. I said I wanted you.”

  In an eerie whisper, he shot back, “And what guy did you want first?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and held his angry gaze. “Could you speak fucking English for me here? I don’t have a clue what you are pissed about.”

  “You’ve been with a man before!”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Never claimed to be a virgin.”

  “Oh, God,” he choked, running a shaky hand through his hair.

  Even with as upset as I was, every fiber of my being ached to soothe him. But, as I took a step toward him, he threw up a hand to stop me. The gears in his head were turning, and within seconds, his anger dissipated.

  His teeth worried over his bottom lip. “It was just sex though, right? How many men have you been with?”

  My lips twitched, and like a moth to a flame, his eyes fell to my mouth.

  “I suppose you’d be okay with me asking you the same question?”

  “You could,” he said matter-of-factly as he began pacing the room. “And I would give you the only answer that mattered: more than one.”

  My lips twisted in a grimace. “How is that the only answer that matters?”

  “It just is!”

  I threw my hands out to the sides in frustration. “Fine. I’ve been with less than five. Does that help?”

  Hope flooded his eyes. “So, like, two, including me?”

  I swayed my head from side to side in consideration. “So, maybe it’s less than six now.”

  “Oh, God.” He pinched his nose and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

  “Jesus Christ, Henry. You’re openly gay. It seems a little hypocritical for you to be judging me for sleeping with a few guys. Why does it matter?”

  Lowering his head, he leveled me with the most tormented expression I had ever witnessed. And not just from Henry, but in my entire life.

  “You were supposed to be straight!” He stabbed his thumb into his chest. “I was supposed to be the exception—not number fucking five.”

  It started in his fingers. Then the tiniest of twitches traveled through him until it became an all out tremor. And, seconds later, his chest heaved and a red flush swept its way up his neck.

  I was pissed, but I couldn’t just stand there and allow a panic attack to overtake him. With two long strides, I closed the distance between us. His body jumped in surprise as I folded an arm around his hips and pulled him against me. Cupping the back of his head, I tucked his face into my neck.

  “Take a deep breath. This is nothing to get worked up about. I’m right here.”

  His arms fell to his sides, but he didn’t melt into me. We were inches apart, but he felt more like a stranger than he had the day I’d met him. It was all wrong. But it was a feeling I knew all too well.

  It was the end.

  And, once again, I was helplessly holding on to a man who had already let me go.

  Wrenching my eyes shut, I started counting. I pretended that it was for him, but suddenly, he wasn’t the only one panicking.

  “Ten, nine, eight.” I kissed his temple and murmured, “We’re okay.”

  His heart slamming in his chest said otherwise.

  “Seven, six, five.” I squeezed him until he was plastered to my front. “Catch your breath and we’ll talk. Everything is fine.”

  He shook his head, but I ignored it. Or, at least, I tried—my pulse skyrocketed.

  “Four, three, two—”

  “Don’t say one,” he pleaded. “Just don’t say it. Not yet.”

  I nodded, pressing my lips to his temple again, this time letting them linger.

  And then, for several minutes, I held him impossibly tight. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and his trembles stilled. However, there was nothing I could do to calm myself. Every minute we stood there, a ball of fire grew in my chest.

  That embrace burned like a goodbye.

  And I was helpless to extinguish it.

  We hadn’t even talked yet, but Henry was checking out.

  He wouldn’t magically disappear when I let go.

  But I knew he wouldn’t be there, either.

  “You’re bisexual?” he finally asked my neck.

  I sighed. “Something like that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I leaned my head awa
y to get a read on his face, but he followed me forward, unwilling to look me in the eye. “I figured it was fairly obvious after I kissed you at the concert.”

  “It probably should have been. But you were so skittish at first…”

  I cleared the emotion from my throat. “I had…a…really bad relationship with a man. I vowed not to repeat the process.”

  “Oh, God. It wasn’t just sex, then? You actually dated men?”

  “Just one,” I whispered.

  His body immediately stiffened.

  I hadn’t meant to say the word that would end the countdown.

  And I definitely hadn’t meant to end the shortest yet most poignant relationship of my life.

  And, more than all of that, I’d had no idea how deeply that single solitary word would wound him.

  “One,” he whispered as though it were a confirmation.

  “Please don’t do this.” I fought to hold on to him, but he struggled out of my arms. “Just talk to me. What are you so scared of?”

  His hand was already on the doorknob when he froze. The crack of his voice was agonizing. “You.”

  “Henry!” I called, but he was out the door and jogging down my driveway before I could stop him.

  His car wasn’t out front anymore, but he didn’t slow as he rounded the corner onto the main street.

  “Shit,” I cursed, rushing back inside to grab my shirt and my keys before taking off after him barefoot.

  There was no reason why I should have been gutted. Deep down I had always known there was something different about Evan. Denial was a cruel bitch like that. The signs had been there. I mean, I was good, but it usually took more than one night to get a man into my bed—or, in our case, my shower. And, as soon as I had thrown down the gauntlet and let him know I wanted something serious, he hadn’t hesitated in picking it up.

  But I liked him, so I was blinded by hope. I was willing to pretend that I was irresistible to him, because God knows he was to me.

  Aimlessly, I was wandering down a street in his neighborhood when my phone started ringing the theme song to Transformers. I didn’t even retrieve it from my pocket. I had no words left for him.

  I was famous beyond my wildest fantasy, but somehow, after years of working my ass off, I was still alone. And I was walking away from the best thing I’d ever had because I feared he could never love me the way I knew I would—and probably already did—love him. Even I could see the ridiculousness of the situation. I should have been stoked beyond all reason that the man I so desperately wanted to be with wanted to be with me too. And we didn’t have the impossible hurdle of his sexuality to overcome.

  We could just be together.

  But that knowledge didn’t slow the anguish growing in the pit of my stomach.

  It was four in the morning and Evan’s cozy neighborhood was still fast asleep. So, when I felt the high beams on my back, there was only one person it could be.

  Quickly ducking around the side of a corner house, I watched his SUV fly past. What was I doing? Well, besides being minutes away from being arrested for trespassing.

  The hammering in my chest told me to go back to his house.

  To talk to him.

  To get over myself and follow my heart for once.

  Nothing had changed. He was still the same man who made me want to settle down and be more than just Henry Alexander—recording artist, celebrity, star. With Evan, I saw more than stages, screaming fans, and casual encounters. It was the first time I had ever seen picket fences, family, and a future.

  But the nagging in my head told me that it was all too far out of reach.

  In the end, it was that voice that won out.

  I didn’t go back to Evan’s house.

  But I didn’t go home, either.

  THE DOG BARKED as I used my key to let myself in. Soon enough, he was wagging his tail and welcoming me back. It had been a while since I’d been there, but when faced with the need to forget the madness brewing in my head, there was only one place I could go.

  After turning the security alarm off, I silently made my way to the bedroom. Not even the moon peeked through the window, but I was able to make out his solid body sleeping soundly under the covers.

  Unable to resist myself, I toed my shoes off, climbed into the middle of the king-size bed, and draped my arm around his stomach as I spooned up behind him.

  “Mmm,” he purred, shifting back against me. His hand slipped back over my ass, squeezing before he drifted to sleep again.

  I chuckled, nuzzling into the back of his hair. “See? I knew I could turn you.”

  His body went solid just before I caught a hard elbow to the stomach. “What the…” he yelled, scrambling off the bed.

  I hadn’t even had the chance to defend myself before his hand was at my throat.

  “Stop. It’s just me!” I croaked through the pressure, the light thankfully clicking on to illuminate the room, revealing his fist reared back and aimed directly at my face.

  “Henry?” Levee said sleepily from the other side of the bed.

  With my hands up in surrender, I repeated to both of them, “It’s just me.”

  I held Sam’s gaze as recognition hit his face.

  “Jesus, fuck, man!” he shouted, but his hand fell away from my throat.

  “What are you doing here?” Levee asked, groaning as she heaved her round stomach over so she could cuddle into my side.

  Sam marched to the dresser and pulled a T-shirt on, mumbling curse words under his breath.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” I kissed her forehead.

  “I can tell you a few places to go,” Sam sniped.

  “Do any of them involve you grabbing my ass again? Because, if so, I’m there.”

  Levee giggled. “You grabbed his ass?”

  I nodded and waggled my eyebrows suggestively while Sam stood at the foot of the bed, fuming.

  “I thought it was you!” he defended, raking a hand through his hair. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “You should probably keep an eye on that one,” I told Levee. “He obviously has some latent tendencies hidden beneath all those tattoos.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” he retorted, but he did it while motioning for me to scoot over so he could get back in bed.

  I climbed over Levee and got comfortable on one of her down pillows. Before Sam had come along, lounging in bed together was a nightly occurrence for us. I missed it a lot. But, as she rested her head on my chest, I would have given anything for it to have been Evan instead.

  She yawned. “Is it seriously four thirty?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to be in town.”

  “Yeah. We drove all night so I could spend less than eighteen hours with Evan.”

  She pushed up on an elbow. “Eighteen hours?”

  “I wanted to see him.”

  “So, then what are you doing crawling into my bed in the middle of the night? Why aren’t you tangled up with your lover boy?”

  I groaned and threw an arm over my face. “We had a fight. So I took off. Hitchhiked my way here.”

  “You hitchhiked!” she shrieked, sitting straight up.

  I laughed, dragging her back down. “Technically, I paid a cab driver. But, for the way he watched me in the rearview mirror like he was Buffalo Bill and wanted to wear my flesh as a new set of pajamas, it feels like I hitchhiked.”

  She blew out a relieved breath as Sam chuckled behind her.

  “Why didn’t you call Carter?” she asked.

  “He’s babysitting Robin.”

  Sam laughed. “I bet he is.”

  Levee and I both turned to look at him, but he waved us off.

  “Nothing. Bad joke. Sorry. Can you get to the part where you tell us what happened so she can fix it, and I can go back to bed?”

  Rolling my eyes, I propped myself up on an elbow so I could see them both. “Evan’s bisexual. Apparently, he’
s dated a guy before.”

  “Oh my God,” Levee breathed.

  “I know. It’s terri—”

  She interrupted me. “Fantastic!”

  “And sleep is out.” Sam mumbled, rolling out of the bed. “I’ll make the coffee.”

  I wolf-whistled as he walked from the room in only his boxers and a T-shirt. His response was to flip me off over his shoulder.

  Pushing off my chest, Levee bent her knees to sit cross-legged beside me. “Please, God, tell me you aren’t freaking out about this?”

  “I’m in your bed at four thirty in the morning,” I stated.

  “But why? This is the best possible scenario.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is horrible. Levee, he’s been with men before.”

  “Aaaand?”

  “And he’s been with men before. I might as well just draw a number and wait for my turn at the deli counter.”

  She slapped my chest. “Don’t be a dick. I happen to know you’ve been with your fair share of men.”

  “Right, but I’ve never been with a woman.”

  She squinted at me in disbelief. “I’m sorry. What? I’ve seen Evan. No way he’s a transsexual.”

  I curled my lip. “No. He’s hung like a horse. He’s just bi.”

  “So, not a woman?”

  “No.”

  “So, what does you being with a woman have to do with this?”

  “I’ve never been with one.”

  She tipped her head in confusion. “Did he ask you to be with one?”

  “No!” I snapped, having lost my patience with her inability to follow the conversation.

  “Then I officially have no idea what the hell you are talking about.”

  I groaned in frustration. “There’s a reason I seek out straight men. I need to be special, Levee. I don’t want to be another notch on someone’s belt,” I said, imploring her to understand.

  She didn’t. “And he’s made you feel like just another conquest?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then what?” she shouted, having lost her patience as well.

  I rolled off the bed and began pacing a pattern around her bed. “You don’t understand.”

  “Not at all,” she replied, propping herself up on the pillows and folding her hands over her swollen stomach.