Promise Not To Fall

by Shey Stahl

He grabs my hand before I can run away, yanking me back to him. “No.”

  His words make my blood run warm, spreading throughout, leaving me anxious at what’s to come.

  Jake opens his mouth several times to speak and then finally asks, “Do you trust me, Kendall?”

  “Should I trust you?” I counter, and he arches an eyebrow in surprise, making me stare into his eyes, hating the heartache written in them. “My gut tells me I should.”

  “Then tell me you mean it. Tell me you want this as much as I do.” There’s an easiness about Jake I adore. A softness I’ve never experienced before. It’s something I missed, and now that I’m here, his gentleness is calming. “We may up an’ decide we made a huge fuckin’ mistake. But… what if it’s not? What if it’s the best years of our lives? We have to try. We have to just try.”

  He’s absolutely right. It could end in tears. It could. And heartache. But then again, it might not. It might be the chance of a lifetime. A chance at finding my own happily ever after.

  I want to let the words fall out, so natural, so true that they have depths I can barely understand. I can understand three very simple ones. The ones he’s looking for.

  Reluctantly, my eyes focus on his. “I mean it,” I tell him, moving toward him again. Fidgeting slightly, I pull at my wet shirt, which is clinging to my skin. I can’t wait any longer for that kiss or to get out of these wet clothes. I’ve waited five months to feel his lips against mine again.

  With a jerky motion, Jake’s fingers dive into my hair, winding in the wet strands around his hands, and he inhales deeply. It’s everything I’ve been waiting for since I left him. Our lips part, and he slides one hand around my waist, pressing me flush against his chest.

  Jake is all for the kissing. In fact, he practically attacks me. His tongue excitedly exploring my mouth, giving into the passion humming through the room the moment I knocked on his door. It’s the kind of kissing you feel deep in your bones like a shockwave after a bomb goes off.

  Needing to breathe, we part, gasping, and stare at each other. “Jesus, Kendall,” he murmurs, running his nose along my jaw, attempting to catch his breath. His eyes scan over me, lingering on my wet breasts before dropping lower. A slight smirk touches his lips, his eyes blazing with desire. “I missed you…”

  When he raises his mouth to mine again, my eyes flutter closed. I fight back a shiver, wanting to melt into him. He fists my hair in his hands, groaning, lost against my lips. This kiss is much like the first kiss on the beach, slow but promising, and then it turns into something else entirely. Impatience.

  He moves his mouth over mine, firm and demanding, making a groaning sound low in his throat. He tastes so good. Our kisses slow, and our breaths give our intentions away. His hands travel over my curves, taking their time before he finds my face again, sweeping my wet hair from my cheeks.

  Mine move to his chest, slick from the rain. It’s then I notice the music playing in the background from his battery-powered stereo. As The Civil Wars fill the room with “Dust to Dust” it’s a reminder of what this is to us now.

  His touch is heavy and slow, his kisses the same. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

  I giggle. “By all means, take them off.” And then it dawns on me that we’re in the house that he shares with Zain and Nash. “Wait, are your roommate’s home?”

  He shakes his head no, his hooded eyes barely open. Slowly, he takes off my wet shirt and then palms my breasts hastily. “Fuck, it’s been a while. Is this okay?”

  “It’s more than okay,” I moan in response, drawing myself closer, letting him know it definitely is more than okay. It’s perfect. I never want him to stop.

  His fingers tangle in the wet strands of my hair, tipping my head back to expose my skin for him, my racing pulse under his tongue. His stubble scratches my skin, leaving shivers in its path. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his rich scent. There’s no hesitation, only surrender. As I slip my hand inside his boxers, his arousal’s evident. Breathing heavy against my cheek, his stance widens, his body hunching toward mine as his hips jerk into my hand. The desperation in his touch takes over, and he struggles to get closer. I need that too.

  Standing in the middle of his living room, half naked, it’s hard to get the right angles. “Let’s go to your room,” I suggest when his teeth drag over the sensitive skin on my neck.

  Nodding, he begins walking us down the hall. We glide together, his large hands snaking around my back, his mouth eagerly seeking out mine once again. When his kisses slow, his hands work over me. Gently they outline my breasts, each one, cupping them with just the right amount of force. Inside his room, his eyes close as he lays me down on his bed, a mattress on the floor, his need growing stronger when his hips meet mine again, just slightly, but enough that I know he wants this. The moment he touches me, the tingling starts again. My body still craves him.

  Easing my bra aside, he lets it fall to the floor. His hands move lower, resting on my hips as he unbuttons my jeans and removes them. It takes a good amount of effort since they’re soaking wet. When they’re off, he hooks his fingers around the edges of my panties, each fingertip grazing me with just the slightest touch before adding pressure. Bending forward, his lips brush over my right breast and then my nipple, giving me a slow, deliberate kiss, then grazing his tongue over that same path of pebbled hardness.

  My fingers find their way to his hair. Drops of water bead over my knuckles as my fingers slide along his scalp. Slowly his hands move downward, skimming the length of my body. His fingertips grazing my center, the touch exactly what I need. My lashes flutter, sweet bliss.

  The low gravel of his voice brings me back. “Has anyone…?” His eyes hold mine, waiting for my answer, the one he can’t seem to finish.

  “Only you,” I assure him, watching his eyes.

  Nodding, he explores my thighs and then back to my hips. Crawling up my body, his lips find mine, reclaiming what’s his. A lurch of excitement rushes through me, knowing where this is going, and the idea of his eagerness for it thrills me even more. It’s then I realize this is completely different from any other time we’ve been together. He’s making love to me, giving me a piece of himself he’s never given to another city girl before.

  Drawing back, he pulls his boxers down and then kicks them aside before returning to the bed. My hands immediately seek him out, wanting that hardness where I so desperately need it.

  Jake’s breath blows over my shoulder, my name on his lips. My eyes close, and I arch my neck, giving him more of my skin, more of me in any way. His hips buck at my touch, gliding his fullness between my hands. My other hand grips his arm as he holds himself above me, his head bent forward so all I can see is the sharply defined edges of his shoulders.

  Between my legs, his hand finds my center and his fingers gently prod, waiting for me to look at him. “You want me… Kendall?”

  My eyes fly open, and I stare into sky blue. I nod, but that’s not enough for him. He wants my words. “Say it.”

  “I do.” I lift my hips, grinding my pussy along his so hard cock.

  Jake squeezes his eyes shut, a shudder rolling through his hips. “No… that’s not what I want to hear.” He kisses me, slow and thorough, and then pulls back. “I want you to say you want me.”

  “I want you, Jake. Make love to me.”

  Smiling, he reaches between us and moves my legs farther apart, watching my face the entire time. Trembling at the long-awaited touch, I relax when he fills me. It’s been so long since I felt this.

  His tormented groan reminds me it’s been a while for him too. I think he wants to go slowly, but those first few moments after he enters are nothing like that. I’m so wet, and he’s so hard, it’s easy to get lost and just fuck.

  “Oh, God,” he moans, his head dropping to my shoulder. He flexes forward, his hips shuddering as he does so. “It’s been so fucking long. So long….”

  I’m caught up with his enthusiasm, movin
g with him in any way I can, curving into him. The way his hips rub and drag in all the right places, it’s like coming home.

  “I missed you,” he says, grunting with each movement. “I missed you so fucking much.” His hands curl around my shoulders, pulling me into his movements. “I can’t… so warm….” His hips move languidly for a while.

  Pressure builds into a sweet ecstasy. Goose bumps prickle across my skin from the sensations pouring over me. My head falls back, and his lips press against my damp skin, his breath warm as it flows against my neck. The scorching heat of his kiss leaves me weak, rubbery, and sedated as the waves wash over me. I stare up at the ceiling as he rocks himself back and forth, him holding on as I’m letting go.

  My fingers dig into his concrete shoulders, arching helplessly against him. We come together, neither of us able to hold on any longer. He says something under his breath I can’t decipher, his body jerking in time with his release, his face buried in my shoulder.

  I stroke his head as we lay there, the wind and rain howling outside, relentless and powerful.

  “Jake…” I breathe, kissing his neck.

  “Kiss me,” he whispers, gasping for breath as his body continues to shake, his long lashes lowering. “Kiss me….”

  I do. I kiss him deeper than ever before, giving myself to him. I will always give myself to him. I have to. Now more than ever.

  Handling me with care as my breathing slows and my shivers begin to calm, Jake blows out a long breath and eases his body from mine. Exhaling deeply, he slides off me and then pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing my face to lie on his chest.

  “You’re Island Girl now,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

  I laugh. “I guess I am.”

  There’s no definition for what we are, and for once, I don’t need it. Not with Jake.

  I fall asleep wrapped in Jake’s arms that night with the sounds of howling winds and unforgiving rain. The power is still out when I wake up, the candles long since burned out, but the lantern beside his bed is still on. It’s enough light for me to make out his profile. It takes me a minute to understand where I am, but the familiar scent of Jake’s body next to me and his weight are a nice reminder. His arm is around my waist, his breath against my neck.

  I stare at the wall for a moment and then smile. Though I know it’s morning, his windows are boarded up, so I can’t see the destruction outside. I try to peek around the cracks in the boards, but can’t see much other than rain.

  When Jake wakes up, he smiles and reaches for me, forcing me to lie back down with him. I do, and soon I’m fast asleep again in his arms.

  Hours pass, the wind settles, and Jake asks if I want to go with him to check on the bar. The fear creeps in, knowing there’s no way it could have survived. It’s directly on the beach, and after being in that storm last night, I don’t think it can still be standing.

  It’s gone. Nothing left but wreckage.

  Every once in a while you lose it all, and you have to rebuild. You do because it’s the only way. There’s no guarantee in life. None. What you have today can be gone tomorrow. Everything.

  That can’t have been more true than when we see what the storm has done to his parents’ bar. The wind has died down considerably, still present but not as persistent as it had been last night.

  Jake’s face is pure devastation when he takes in the wreckage of what his family had built. All that remains is the deck.

  I start crying, because that’s what I do these days, and Jake stares at the vintage beer sign split in two at his feet.

  “I remember when they bought this sign.” A smile tugs at his lips, his voice tender, confused. “They picked it up at the same place we got that dress for you.” Turning his head, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Same place I got this too….” Reaching in the pocket of his shorts, he pulls out a necklace with a turtle charm and places it in my palm. He looks reflective, his brows drawing together hesitantly.

  The sterling silver chain coils in my hand, the charm emerald surrounded by purple and pink. It’s beautiful. “You got this for me?”

  Jake nods, his eyes on the ocean now. “It reminded me of when we watched the turtle lay her eggs.” Angry waves pound the shore, the water nearly at our feet. “My parents opened this bar on my fifth birthday,” he whispers, looking at the wet sand and pooled water at his feet. His head tucks down, his chin touching his chest as his lashes dance shadows on his cheeks. “I’ve celebrated every birthday since then on this very deck.”

  I think our lives get destroyed so we can rebuild and make our dreams come true. It is fate’s way of letting you know something about the path you were on just wasn’t right.

  “And I sat right here at sundown—” He swallows and turns his gaze to mine. “—hoping you’d come back. Part of me knew you would… someday.”

  “You sat out here by yourself?” My voice is soft, the wind more than likely drowning out my voice. But he hears me. He always hears me.

  “I haven’t been with anyone since you.” Then his voice is low, barely audible, like mine. “Have you?”

  “No. I told you that.” I smile, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You kind of had a hold on me. Your whiskey sour set my soul on fire.”

  Jake lets out a laugh, putting his arm around my shoulder. I watch his face light up, his hair blowing in the wind. “I knew my drinks would get you.”

  “You got me, all right.”

  3 parts bourbon whiskey

  2 parts scratch sour

  ½ part simple syrup

  1 lemon wedge

  1 orange wedge

  1 lime wedge

  Squeeze and drop each wedge into a Boston shaker. Add remaining ingredients and ice. Shake and pour into a Collins glass. Top with ice.

  When I moved to the Bahamas, I didn’t do it for money. I did it for Jake, something the old me would have never done. I would have laughed in their face if someone had told me they moved to another country for a man. The thought of doing something like that would have never appealed to me.

  When I was growing up, my mother never worked a day in her life. Then my dad left and she had no other option but to work and begin a career for herself in her mid-thirties. I saw what she went through and told myself I would never do that. I would always have something to fall back on.

  And then I met Jake Pierce.

  “It’s good to see him smiling,” Joan says, watching Jake and his dad putting up the vintage beer signs we found at the flea market two weeks ago.

  It is good to see him smiling.

  Joan, Jake’s mother, hugs me. We’re close. I talk to her daily, and it feels good to have that, to allow it in my life. I don’t know everything, and I’m the first person to admit that these days.

  “I’m happy he found you, Kendall. He needed that. He’d deny it now, but he loved Amara a lot and she destroyed him.” Her smile is sincere. “I couldn’t have asked for a better girl to repair him.”

  It’s funny how she words that, considering we’d just finished rebuilding their bar, a bar Jake now owns. Come Sundown. This bar… it’s fate’s way of righting the wrong.

  Sweet sunlight pours into the bar, bouncing off the bottles stacked against the wall, creating an array of colors. My gaze moves from Joan to Jake again. It’s been a year since I moved to the Bahamas. After that hurricane, part of me was scared to live here, but there was a lot more keeping me here. The most important one is standing in front of me, serving drinks to the college regulars here on spring break. I watch a girl at the end of the bar, her eyes on Jake as he makes her strawberry mojito. I can see it in her eyes. I’ve been there before. She’s looking for the same thing I had been when I first laid eyes on him.

  Looking back, it’s easy for me to see that night, as there are gentle reminders for me all around. Looking down at her phone, the girl at the bar sighs, tears threatening before she tucks her phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. She’s lo
st, her vision of the life she had gone. I can almost feel it radiating from her, an ordinary life she’s looking to forget.

  She makes small talk with Jake, but he turns around and has Nash serve her. You can see the disappointment on her face, but it doesn’t last long. I wonder who will be the one to show her swimming pigs and baby turtles. It won’t be Jake.

  I find it interesting that Nash can’t not flirt with every girl who walks into that bar. Part of me wonders if deep down, though Rylee hasn’t told him, if he knows he has a little boy with his blond hair now. I don’t think he does. There’s no mistaking Nash’s smile, and there’s a picture on my phone of one very much like it as he tastes green beans for the first time.

  Rylee certainly never planned to have a baby by herself. But she did. And she’s happy. I’ve yet to meet this sweet baby… her plans to bring him in February changed. Life has a way of getting in the way when an infant is involved. I’m anxiously waiting to see my best friend and see how single motherhood is treating her.

  Standing at the bar, I smile at Jake, knowing how happy I am in this moment.

  “Hey, you remember that spot on the beach where we first kissed?” I ask him, coming to stand next to him.

  Jake takes a deep breath, acting like he has to think about it, and looks up at me, then hands a drink to an older gentleman to my right. “Yeah?”

  “Wanna go there tonight?”

  Jake winks. “Sure… but first I need to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “You listening to me, Island Girl?” I watch him, rolling my eyes. He smiles softly. “I have a new drink for you to try.”

  I motion to the bar. “Well then, let’s hear it.”

  “It’s called sour in the rough.”

  “I like the sound of it already. I like rough.”

  Jake laughs. “Be careful what you wish for there.”

  Watching closely, I sit on the stool in front of him just like I used to do when I used to be City Girl. I don’t even know that girl anymore. Now I manage a bar. A bar my boyfriend just happens to own. I worked for Stevie for six months after I moved here, and I hated it. I don’t want to live my life taking care of others any longer. For so long I enjoyed being a personal assistant, but when Jake started to build his own bar, I found a different calling—making sure he knows what he’s doing. He needs someone to boss him around. The decision to help Jake with his bar was easy. We didn’t do it for money, there isn’t much in owning a bar, if anything. But it does provide both of us with a sense of accomplishment.