Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)

by Autumn Grey

  Taking a deep breath, I stop at the foot of his bed and just stare at him, feeling helpless as fuck. His weary eyes shift to look over my shoulder before returning back to my face.

  “Nor and the girls?”

  I clear my throat and have to look away, focusing instead on what’s going on outside the window in Josh’s room. The curtains have been drawn and the orange light of the setting sun filters through the glass. A flock of birds fly by¸ swooping low in unison before disappearing out of sight. “They are waiting outside.”

  His shoulders droop as if relieved. Wetting his cracked lips, he lifts his hand and waves me toward the bed weakly, like a king urging his subject to come closer.

  I roll my eyes, and I have to fight the urge to laugh. “Yes, your high assholeness.” I sit on the chair that has become a fixture next to the bed.

  He smirks, but flinches when he moves slightly to adjust his body. “I might as well take advantage of this. Besides, you can’t deny I look good ordering your ass around.”

  I chuckle, shaking my head.

  He shrugs. “They shot me with more painkillers, dude. I’m high as a kite right now.” He grins lopsidedly.

  He looks down at his intertwined fingers and when he raises his head back up, the bliss on his face has been replaced with an urgent, desperate look. “We need to talk before Nor and the girls come in here.” He takes a deep breath and I wait, my hands automatically fisting on my thighs. “Doc says my body is shutting down.” His speech has considerably slowed down in the few minutes I’ve been in here. “I can feel it. So I need to talk to you before I’m too weak to say shit.”

  “You just had to go out with a bang, didn’t you?” I ask, blinking hard to stop the damn tears from falling.

  His shoulders shake as he chuckles. “It was the only way to get you to listen.”

  He tries to sit upright, but his body buckles beneath his meager weight. I stand up and help him, adjusting the pillows to support his head and back, then start pacing beside his bed without taking my focus off of him. I’m too anxious to sit down.

  Questions are fighting for release in my chest but one look at Josh makes me stop. I watch his head roll back and his eyes fall shut. His face contorts as if he’s in pain, and when he opens his eyes again, they are damp with tears.

  His chest expands and contracts as he struggles to take air into his lungs. Finally, he runs his tongue along his cracked lips, and levels his gaze at me.

  “Remember when Nor moved in next door?” Josh waits until I nod before he continues. “I have never seen you look at anyone like that, Cole. You looked at her like she was your world, like you had the ability to look into her past, her pain, her future. Your future. With little ColeNor brats waddling around in diapers.

  “Please. . .just don’t judge her. Listen to her first, okay? You know Nor. You know her heart. And you know she would’ve never done anything to hurt you. She would have done everything in her power to keep you safe, just like you would have for her, which you did. You two are simply crazy. You’d rather get killed while trying to save each other.” His face is flushed from exertion. A bout of coughing interrupts his words. “She’s still in love with you.”

  His chest is rising and falling fast. “Take care of her and the girls. Please promise me that, Cole. Be there for her. Our girls will need you when I’m gone. Nor has been waiting a lifetime for you. If there’s anyone to blame, please blame me.”

  “Okay. Okay. I blame you, okay? Just calm down, please. I’ll take care of her,” I say desperately, but then the words I just committed to resound in my ears. “No. No. Nor is your wife. You can’t ask me to do that. I’ll make sure they’re okay. Every day. But my life is in New York, Josh. I can’t. . .” I try and fail to gather my words. My thoughts. This is insane. He is insane.

  Wiping my eyes, I glance back to the bed, to the body that was once muscular. Healthy. Strong. Now mere bones held together by skin.

  I shuffle back to his bedside and reclaim my seat. Lifting my hands, I sign, “God, Josh. She is your wife—”

  He jerks forward using most of his strength and grabs my hand, clutching it in desperation. “Only in name and by law. But her heart. . .it has never belonged to anyone but you. She still loves you. Always has. I want someone. . .not just anyone. . .you. I want you to be there when I’m gone. I want you, no. . .I need you to be the one she falls back on when I’m gone. Please.”

  I blink hard as tears burn the corners of my eyes.

  Why did I hold onto my anger for so long? I’ve missed so many opportunities; time I would have spent with the people I love.

  He squeezes my hand, his eyes intense. “I know what you are thinking. Don’t live your life in regret and blame. The past happened and there’s nothing you or I can do to change that.”

  Josh drops my hand and curls into a ball as a series of coughs threaten to tear his already wasted body into pieces.

  God, no!

  I lunge for the nurse call button and press it repeatedly, my eyes fixed on him. My heart’s in my throat as I stare helplessly, unable to do anything to ease his suffering.

  Soon, nurses pour into the room. Someone pushes me aside, but I’m too dazed to protest or even hold my own weight. I stumble back several steps until my back hits a wall. I feel as though I’m watching everything that is happening in front of me from outside my body. Suddenly, there is a commotion that has nothing to do with the nurses trying to save my brother, and everything to do with Josh fighting them. Instinctively, I rush to the bed only to find him thrashing, his wide eyes filled with absolute desperation. I zoom in on his lips, but he’s sentences are interrupted by brutal jolts from his body.

  “Where. . .he? I need. . .him. Now!”

  One of the nurses says something but my sole focus is on Josh. I shoulder my way through the throng of people and yell, “I’m here, bro. I’m here.”

  The frantic look in his eyes ceases for just a few seconds when he sees me. “I love you, Cole.”

  His upper body slumps back on the bed in exhaustion, but that isn’t what sends more tears running down my face.

  No.

  It’s the peaceful smile stretching his mouth. I stand there, frozen to my spot, watching as his shallow breaths slow to a stop.

  His eyes stay open as life fades from them, leaving them empty. My gaze flies to the telemetry monitor next to his bed, and I watch as the numbers drop until a continuous flat line appears. I keep staring at it, waiting for the line to change its pattern.

  Nothing.

  Everything stops. I see the nurses exchange grim looks and then shake their heads. I blink, lifting my gaze to the window, noticing the yellow and golden jagged lining as the sun sinks beyond the skies.

  Taking in a shuddering breath, I stagger out of the room. I stand in the hallway, pain ripping through me. My hands curl into fists, and I slam them on the wall.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck!

  Someone touches my arm.

  “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

  More tugging. I jerk my head up and glare at the intruder.

  Nor’s eyes widen as she searches my face. “Josh?”

  I try to bring some kind of control to my emotions, my heart dying as I take in Nor’s expectant stare, and shake my head. It’s all I can give her.

  She covers her mouth with a hand as tears roll down her face. I shift around to grab her in a hug and I see Cora and Joce staring up at me from behind their mother, their eyes round and lips trembling.

  “No,” Joce says, shaking her head. “My daddy can’t be dead. You’re a liar. He is not dead. Dad. . .”

  I can’t take it anymore. In a little over fifty-five hours, I’ve lost my brother and found out I’m a father. And still, nothing makes a single bit of sense.

  Something gently tugs the back of my shirt. I stop mid-stride and look over my shoulder. Little Cora is looking at me through red eyes, tears falling down her eyes.

  “Please don’t go,” she signs. “Please.�
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  Fear, loss, and panic fill her small features. Turning around, I drop to my knees, wrap my arms around her and hold her close. Her body trembles as her arms circle my neck.

  I shut my eyes tight. I wish I could take away this fucking pain crippling her body. I tuck a thumb under her chin, lift it up and wait until she meets my gaze. “I’m not leaving. I promise.”

  I have no idea how to console my own daughter. How will I be a good father to these precious girls, if the thought of doing something wrong cripples me? I’ve spent the last thirty years just taking care of me. How will I know what they need? What if I mess up being a dad?

  Christ. I can’t afford to think like that. I will do everything in my power to be the father they deserve. The best father I can be.

  When I open my eyes again, Nor and Joce are huddled together, Nor’s hand moving in circles on our daughter’s back to soothe her. I climb to my feet, taking Cora with me, and bridge the space between us, slipping my arm around Nor. I pull her and Joce to my chest.

  I pull back and swallow hard. I’m not going to cry in front them. Right now, it’s about them. I kiss each of their foreheads. Nor’s lips are pressed in a straight line, her lashes wet and her eyes bright with tears she’s trying to hold back—for Cora and Joce’s sake, I’m sure.

  “We need to go back to tell—” I hesitate and clear my throat. My parents and Nick. They need to know. They didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Nor and the girls didn’t either.

  Joce, my quiet, sweet daughter tightens her fingers on my T-shirt as though she never wants to let go. I glance up at Nor. She nods, smiling softly and I watch as one tear, then a second one rolls down her face.

  She smooths Joce’s hair first, then Cora’s, in a comforting gesture, but her focus is on me. “Thank you for coming back home and for being here for the girls. And me.”

  Those words hit me right in my chest, warming me. Feeling needed.

  Balancing Cora on one arm, I crouch and lift her sister with my free arm and adjust them against my body. They both tuck their heads in the crook of my neck. A sense of completion fills my chest as I walk down the hallway toward the waiting area.

  I can’t control what happened to Josh. I can’t even begin to process it right now. All I can do is keep moving, because if I stop to think about it, the grief will swallow me whole. Focusing on the girls is what I need to do. I will make sure I’m here for them.

  The rest will have to wait.

  THE MOMENT THE MOVING TRUCK pulls up in front of the two-story house with a navy blue painted exterior on Pineway Drive, I flip the door handle open. I grab the last of the lemon drops from the plastic bag and pop it inside my mouth and then hop out, eager to leave the confined space I’ve been sharing with my family for the last six hours. That was the last time my dad stopped to refill the tank. Dad flat out refused to make more than one stop. He said we needed to be in Willow Hill before nightfall.

  I look around while shaking my legs to get rid of the stiffness there, then stare at the house in front of me. It’s similar to the ones on this street. The front lawn is a bit shabby, though. The grass is missing in some areas and there are no flowers to boast of. With a little TLC, though, it could flourish.

  I don’t care as long as we have a place to live and sleep. I hope that Dad doesn’t get another promotion because it would mean us moving again.

  Behind the house is a line of trees, which I guess is the Pineway Woods. I googled the location before we moved here to Willow Hill, Florida. Thank goodness for Google Earth, as I now have more information about this town.

  Population: 68,023

  Next popular destination: Jacksonville and Gainesville.

  I turn around, ready to open the trunk, but stop when something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.

  Not something. Someone.

  Two boys are standing on the front lawn of the house next to the one we’re moving in to. The only difference between the two houses is the exterior, since theirs is gray in color.

  One of the boys is a foot taller and looks older. Older than me anyway, but not by much. He’s wearing an easy smile on his face, tossing a basketball between his hands. Even from here, I can see his eyes are a brilliant blue, like the Caribbean. He waves in our general direction in greeting and I reciprocate. The second boy lingers a step back, as though he doesn’t want to be noticed.

  I notice everything about him, though. The black beanie on his head, the black wife-beater, the way the shorts hug his hips, his wide shoulders, his lanky form, angular jaw, full lips and lastly, his deep set gray eyes. There is nothing Caribbean in them. They are stormy, like his features. His gaze on me is intense and searching. When he hones in on my forearms, they widen, probably taking in the scars there. I swear I hear his sharp intake of breath from where I’m standing. He lifts those stormy grays to my face. I don’t see pity, just a million questions and something else I’ve never seen in the eyes of the opposite sex before.

  Interest. Awareness. Its swiftness and fierceness as it sweeps through me, leaves me shaking in my sky-blue Keds.

  God.

  Is it even possible for someone to look at you as if they totally get you? Someone you had no idea existed until the very moment you met?

  Clenching my jaw, I inhale, somehow finding the strength to glare at the boy who has managed to make me shiver. I cross my arms on my chest and raise a brow, challenging his stare. He narrows those astounding eyes at me, but I’m not about to give him an inch of me. I already gave him too much when my body betrayed how his perusal affected me. I doubt I have the ability to even walk right now. Honestly, he’s intimidating as hell. I feel drawn to him, which is insane. We just met. Things like this don’t happen in the real world. They don’t happen to me.

  Or do they?

  I’m insane, which is why I need to keep my distance from him.

  Stormy Eyes has given a whole new meaning to the word interesting.

  “Hello boys!” my mother chirps from somewhere behind me, effectively drawing my attention away from Stormy Eyes.

  “Darn it, Caroline. Do you have to yell like that?” Dad’s voice is like a whip, slashing through the air, sending a chill down my spine.

  Mom inhales sharply and falls silent for a few seconds. I peer over my shoulder at her and my heart aches all over again. I still don’t understand why she stays with him. I keep hoping that one day she will pack up and leave, taking me and my sisters with her.

  Her gaze drops to the floor and I know she’s shoving those words inside the little box that has my father’s name on it. The box where all the yelling, snarling and insults live. The only place she can store them in order to keep our family together. There’s one thing I’ve learned in my seventeen years on this earth: the hand that feeds you can quickly turn to be the one that destroys you. Sticks and stones may break bones, but words have the power to crush a person’s spirit.

  Mom clears her throat and forces a cheery smile, hiding her broken spirit behind a bright facade.

  “How are you?” she asks the two boys in a lower tone.

  Blue Eyes tucks the ball under his left arm and gestures with his hands toward Stormy Eyes. His hands move in fluid movements, and I realize he’s saying something. With his hands. They are using ASL to communicate with each other. Blue Eyes tosses the ball on their lawn and the boys make their way toward us. Stormy Eyes hangs back a little when they stop in front of us.

  “These are my daughters, Elon, Elise and Eleanor,” my mom says, smiling wide. “I’m Caroline and that is my husband Stephen.”

  I wiggle my fingers in a wave and mumble unintelligibly, “Nor.” They stare at me blankly and I realize they probably didn’t understand what I said. Gah! Why do I get nervous when I meet new people? I huff a breath of frustration and clear my throat. “You can call me Nor.”

  My dad’s gaze moves between the two boys before settling on Stormy Eyes. He narrows his eyes and his lips tighten as if he’s irritated.
How can he be put out by someone he met only five seconds ago?

  Blue Eyes clears his throat and says, “It’s great to meet you all. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He smiles nervously, obviously shaken by my dad’s stern perusal, even though it mostly wasn’t directed at him.

  He’s hot, especially with the dark locks of hair falling on his forehead like that. “I’m Josh Holloway and that’s my brother, Cole,” he says while signing at the same time in Cole’s direction. Then he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the boy sitting on their porch surrounded by toy cars and says, “and that’s our younger brother, Nick.” Nick waves at us, but my attention is once again stolen by Stormy Eyes.

  Cole.

  Cole.

  Cole.

  The name suits him. It’s mysterious just like its owner.

  Cole is staring at me again with those eyes that seem to say nothing and everything at the same time. He’s touching me without even being close to me. Sounds silly, right? I can’t even believe that thought passed through my head because admitting it actually means a couple of physics laws are being broken right this second. But then, I’ve never experienced such a strong pull towards another person before.

  His gaze darts to my chest and I look down. Heat floods my face.

  Crap.

  The first three buttons of my dress have popped open, revealing my white bra and too much boob and skin. My fingers fly up and fasten the damn things and then I peek at Cole. He coughs, his cheeks and ears flushing, and averts his eyes.

  “Need help taking the boxes inside?” Josh asks, his gaze moving between my mom and dad and the truck full of boxes. “My brother and I would be happy to help.”

  “That would be lovely,” Mom says, at the same time my dad turns around, ignoring Josh’s words. He grabs a box from the truck and stalks toward the front door.

  Josh faces his brother and signs. Cole glances at the truck, then the house and nods. He exhales long and hard, as though he has been holding his breath for ages, grabs a box from Josh’s hands and strides toward my new home.