Fall

by Callihan, Kristen

  But I know that’s a lie. Regret and sorrow pull me down until I feel like I’m drowning. I’ll hide behind smiles and pretend I’m happy like I always do. But this is a death, and I don’t know how to get past it.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  John

  Back to running. Running is good, the painful burn in my lungs and legs pure, uncomplicated. If I run long enough, my mind goes perfectly blank. I love those times. I live for empty thoughts. The second something unwanted tries to push its way to the surface, I run harder, faster. I can do this; I excel at diversion.

  But eventually, I have to return home from my run. The sight of that stone staircase leading up to those damn ornately carved-wood doors hurts my chest. Entering my code on the number pad hurts my chest. Even the damn sanitized smell of the elevator hurts my chest. She is everywhere, and I can’t hide at home. So I stay out running as long as I can.

  Facts are facts: I can dither no longer. I have to move on. I need out of New York. Out of the U.S.

  I’ll go to England. No, fuck that. I’ll go visit Killian in Australia. He’s staying in Scottie’s house; there’s room for me.

  The Raconteurs’ “Steady, as She Goes” starts thumping through my earbuds. Usually, I love this song, but music makes my skin crawl right now. I yank the earbuds out as I turn down the street to home. There’s a massive stone pressing down on my chest. I’d worry I’m having a heart attack but that heinous stone has been there since … Well, I’m not going there.

  Exhaustion makes my pace wobble, and I nearly stumble by the time I get to the stairs. There’s a guy lounging on the stoop, his long legs sprawled in my way. For a weird, hazy second, I think he might be a hallucination; I’m certainly weak enough to be seeing things, but then he looks up and gives me that supercilious smirk I’ve seen more than half my life, and I know I’m not dreaming.

  “You look like shit,” Killian says. To the point as always.

  I take the bottle of lemonade he holds out for me and guzzle it down. It’s cold and sweet and gives me a chance to get my brain working again. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I take a breath and then another.

  “You’re back.” Obviously.

  “Aw …” He smiles. “You noticed.”

  “Asshole.” I toss the empty bottle his way and he catches, clearly anticipating the move. Killian and I have always known each other on a level that goes deeper than words or action. He is part of me. Or he was. When I tried, it fractured something between us that did not heal well but thickened and twisted like a keloid scar.

  Scarred or not, I’ve missed the guy and have the weird urge to break down right here. The burn behind my lids is so unexpected, I can’t look him in the eye. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Killian stands and dusts his ass off. “You’re ripe.”

  It hits me again that Killian is here. And that means Stella is gone. My hand grips the stone balustrade as my knees go weak and pain punches into me. Maybe I am having a heart attack; it hurts badly enough. “When did you get back?”

  When did she leave? Why do you care? You told her to go.

  “Late last night.” Killian stares at me, deliberating. “Stella called me.”

  “What?” It comes out as a croak.

  “She said I should be home.”

  I jog up the stairs. Killian follows in silence. When we get to our floor, he walks into my apartment.

  “Good God, Jax.” He gapes around. “Did you add more antiques since I’ve been gone? How the hell did you manage to turn this modern loft into a stuffy English manor?”

  “Talent. Piss off back to your cold, soulless loft if you don’t like it.”

  He laughs low and easy. “I’m going to get you a satin smoking jacket to wear around the house.”

  “I don’t smoke, but I kind of like the idea of that jacket.” I head toward my room. “Taking a shower now.”

  Killian is still in my living room when I return. He doesn’t look pleased, and I’m guessing he’s going to give me a lecture about Stella. God knows I deserve one. But frankly, having Killian on my case right now might make me snap.

  I eye him warily. “It’s good to have you back, man, but I’m not in the mood for company right now.”

  He nods but then plops his ass down next to me on the couch. “It will only take a minute.”

  A dull pounding starts at my temples. “Kills, I can’t talk about her.”

  Silence follows, and I find myself glancing his way. Worst of it is, he looks sad.

  “I’m not here to talk about her,” he says, thankfully knowing me well enough not to use her name. Killian leans back against the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose before facing me again. “Jax … Man, I’m so sorry.”

  “What?” Sorry? What the hell is he talking about? Sorry for leaving? I wouldn’t have met Stella if he hadn’t.

  You’re not supposed to think about her.

  Fuck, I miss her like air.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice as raw as it gets when we’ve been singing all night. “I let you down so fucking badly.”

  I can only stare, my pulse pounding, the urge to get the hell out of the room making me twitch.

  Killian’s bloodshot eyes hold mine. “When you tried, I was so … It scared the shit out of me.”

  I wince, looking away. “I know. I understand. I really do. I just can’t apologize anymore. I—”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m trying to explain.” He swallows convulsively. “I was so fucking angry. You didn’t confide in me. You didn’t tell me what was going on in your head.”

  Goddamn, I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to break down, but my sinuses are burning and my throat keeps convulsing. “I couldn’t,” I rasp.

  “I know,” he says. “I know, man. And the truth is, I was pissed at myself for missing the signs. For leaving you out there alone.”

  Fuck. I’m going to… I press my fingers to my eyes and take a breath. “I’m good at hiding it. Don’t be sorry.”

  “But I am,” he cuts in. “I reacted like an asshole. I packed up and ran away with my tail between my legs, feeling sorry for myself when I should have been there for you.”

  He did that. He did that.

  Rage bubbles up so swiftly, I can’t hold it in. “You left me behind!” The shout echoes in the rafters. “I tried to take my own life, and you left. Like I was a disease you were afraid you might catch.”

  Tears well in Killian’s eyes, and the sight is so foreign to me, it turns my stomach. But the rage, the hurt, won’t settle down. “I needed you. I needed my best friend. And you fucking left—”

  Killian hauls me into a hug so tight my air cuts off. The hold hurts, and until he’d hugged me, I hadn’t known I needed that too. A deep sob hitches his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  He keeps saying it, barely a whisper, as we huddle together crying. He says it until our shaking dies down. I feel exposed, rubbed raw and open. At least on the surface. Inside, I begin to calm. I’m drained, but it doesn’t leave me hollow. It leaves me lighter.

  Killian’s big, sweaty hand is on my head, clutching me as he shudders. “Shit, man, the first day I faced you again I hit you…” He trails off with a ragged breath. “Fuck, that was not okay.”

  My memory of that day is crystal clear. I hadn’t seen Killian for a year after my attempt, and suddenly there he was—seething, hurt, afraid, and awkward as hell. I’d understood him perfectly in that moment because I felt the same.

  Truth is, I’d goaded him to hit me. I wanted it. For both of us. Because a good hit was simple. A good hit was something we both needed.

  Despite myself, a smile wobbles over my lips. “You want to know the crazy thing? I preferred that response to silence. It felt like the real us, the way we used to be when one of us would piss the other off, and we’d settle it with a punch on the mouth before getting back to business.”

  A broken laugh leaves Killian, and h
e leans back to scrub at his wet cheeks with the heel of his hand. “Nobody can piss me off quite like you.”

  Snorting, I wipe my eyes. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

  We sit in silence, each of us trying to get it together.

  “You are my brother,” he says after a minute. “Life without you doesn’t … It doesn’t fucking work.”

  Guilt washes over me, fresh and burning. “I fucked things up—”

  “No!” His stern shout snaps between us, and we both flinch.

  Killian sucks in a breath. “No, John, you didn’t. Not with this. That’s what I’m trying to say. You did nothing wrong. You are the strongest person I know. Don’t you ever fucking say this was your fault.”

  He stares at me like he’s trying to slice through my skin. “I fucked up. The guys fucked up. We are the ones who let you down. It’s no different if you had a broken leg and we let you limp along.”

  A short, humorless laugh escapes me. “It’s a little different. You can see the broken leg. You can’t see what’s going on inside my head.”

  Killian shakes his head. “Maybe so. But when you tried, it was pretty freaking apparent that you needed help. I’m not going to let you down again.”

  The determination in his voice has me turning to face him, and he stares back unflinching. “Whatever you need, John. Whenever you need it.”

  “Thing is,” I tell him, “if it had been you who tried, I would have reacted the same way. I would have been pissed as hell that you didn’t come to me.”

  His brows wing up in shock, and I give him a bitter smile.

  “No one reacts perfectly. Don’t try to. I’m just over being the elephant in the room. Let it go, man. Treat me like before.” I glance his way and smirk. “Be the dickhead you used to be instead of the dickhead holding this shit between us.”

  Killian rubs a hand over his face. “I can do that.” He sits straighter. “I will do that.”

  “Good.” I clear my throat. “And thank you.”

  He knows I’m not only talking about his agreeing to my request. His shoulder presses more firmly into mine. “Any time.”

  We sit like that, propping each other up, not saying a word. And though it’s hard for me to admit it, even to myself, the physical connection and the familiarity of my oldest friend sinks into my bones like a balm.

  Stella was right; I did need to hear this from Killian. I’ve been holding so much shit in—again—and never realizing it. Stella knew exactly what I needed and got it for me. Even though I stomped on her heart and cast her aside, she helped me.

  The pain in my chest becomes bright and ice cold. All the miles I’ve run are a wasted effort. I can’t keep her out of my head or my heart. She comes crashing back in, so hard that I flinch.

  Where is she? Does she hurt the way I do?

  Stop thinking about her.

  Killian eyes me sidelong. “My pet sitter called to tell me I’d better get my ass home and be there for my best friend. Now, you’re wearing a look I am way too familiar with because I wore it myself when I cut Libby loose. Talk to me, man.”

  “Stella,” I croak. “I fell in love, freaked out, ended it.”

  “Bonehead.” He slaps my head for emphasis.

  I rub the spot absently, but it’s my heart that hurts, not my head. “She’s better off with someone who isn’t messed up. She needs someone dependable.”

  Killian frowns as though smelling something rotten. “You’re seriously trying to peddle that bullshit?”

  “It isn’t bullshit. I am unreliable. I’m a fucking mess.”

  “And yet she loves you anyway.” He levels a hard stare. “Don’t give me that look. She called me right after you stomped on her heart. She loves you.”

  Damn it, I am freezing. I rub at my shaking chest. “I doubt she does anymore.”

  “Because it’s so easy to turn those feelings off.” He snorts. “How’s it working for you?”

  “Not so great.” Understatement of my life.

  “Stop running, John. Figuratively and literally. It won’t work.”

  With a sigh, I rest my arm over my aching eyes. “I know you think I’m talking shit, but I’m serious. I can’t go back to Stella and say I’m sorry, only to turn around and do it again when I’m feeling unstable. It isn’t fair to her.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to let her go?”

  There’s a greasy feeling in my throat, and I swallow convulsively. “I already did.”

  Killian makes a noise of protest but he doesn’t argue, and I sit there on the couch wishing it would swallow me up. Finally, he sighs and rises to his feet. “If I fall asleep, I’ll have jet lag from hell, and Libby is in the Hamptons with … Brenna. You’re coming out with me and getting some pizza.”

  I don’t want to eat. I’ll probably choke on it. “You’re going to nag me if I say no, aren’t you?”

  His smile is genuine and kind of evil. “I’ll just call Whip and Rye. Whip has been talking about playing charades.”

  “You’re fucking with me.”

  “You want to take that risk?”

  No, I really don’t. And since I can’t get away from him, I stand. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  Neither of us says another word about Stella. It’s as though she never existed. I can see the well-worn road of my old life stretching out before me once more. It isn’t happy but it’s a path I know.

  By the time the night is over, I’m so numb, I’m almost able to ignore hole in my chest where Stella ought to fill.

  Almost.

  Almost isn’t going to cut it. I need my life back. Fear tells me one path to walk on; my heart insists on another. I’m going to listen to my heart.

  It doesn’t take me long to call her. As soon as we return from pizza, I pull out my phone. It’s a kick in the gut when a mechanical voice tells me her number is no longer in service.

  “Fuck.” I disconnect.

  Killian, who’s still hanging out and trying to distract me with video games, grabs two beers out of the fridge and walks into the living room and watches me pace. “What’s your problem?”

  I plop down on the sofa next to him but ignore my beer. “She cut off her phone.” Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I pinch the tense spot between my eyes. “Or got a new one.”

  Killian shrugs. “Did you expect anything less? You kicked her to the curb.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”

  He smiles wide. “No more patronizing you, remember?”

  Asshole.

  “I don’t know where she is or how she’s getting along.” I run a hand through my hair. “If she’s all right.”

  “Stella is a capable woman. She’s been taking care of herself for years.”

  I cut him a look. He’s not being sarcastic but it irritates me just the same. “I know that. I just …” The tightness in my chest increases. “I want to be the one taking care of her. Not because she can’t, but because I can.”

  That doesn’t make any sense. But I don’t know how else to explain it.

  Killian sits next to me, silent and sipping his beer. We’ve been friends for so long, I know how he sits when he’s agitated, ignoring me, or when he’s simply waiting for me to figure my shit out. He’s going to have a long wait.

  I blow out a hard breath. “Kills, man, how did you do it? With Libby, I mean.”

  He turns his head to meet my eyes. “You mean, how did I let her in and keep her there?”

  “Yeah,” I croak. “That.”

  Slowly, he nods, his beer bottle dangling between his fingertips. The bottle swings as he gives a dry laugh. “Thing is, I didn’t let her in. She just ended up there. I met her, and she became a part of me.” His dark eyes pin me. “It wasn’t a matter of letting her in. It was accepting that she was already there and going with it.”

  My hands curl into fists. “Stella was in. She was all the way in, and I was so fucking happy. No, not just happy, I felt peace.”

 
; “I know,” Killian says in a low voice. “Believe me, I know.”

  I snort, but it’s directed at myself. “And I still cast her out.”

  His smile is tight and wry. “Yeah, well, no one said it was easy accepting that you’re all in.”

  A groan leaves me, and I slump into the couch. “I did a Cowardly Lion sprint out the window, and I killed the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Killian ducks when I chuck a couch pillow at his head. “Seriously, you can shut it with the tough love.”

  He snickers, then grows serious. “You fucked up. Everyone does at some point. You want her back?”

  “Yes.” Just saying the word dislodges something in my chest, and I take what feels like the first real breath I’ve had since she left. So I say it again, because it’s the only true thing in my world now. “Yes, I want her.”

  “Then nut up and fix the problem.”

  The reality of what I face isn’t pretty. “I’m not sure I can fix it. Stella doesn’t trust easily. Less than we do. And I’ve gone and stomped all over that trust.”

  He gives my shoulder an encouraging slap. “You love her. She loves you. The rest is logistics. Now, go get your girl.”

  * * *

  Getting my girl is easier said than done. First off, I don’t know where the hell she is. Stella learned from her dad how to stay off the grid. If he managed to stay hidden for years, Stella is certainly capable of doing the same. The idea that I might not be able to find her fills me with panic. Imagining a long life ahead of me without knowing where Stella is or never saying another word to her makes me ill.

  Since I’m clueless, I go the fount of knowledge in my personal universe.

  Scottie answers the door on the fifth knock. His hair is sticking up on one side and his tie is askew—being clutched in the merciless grip on a chubby baby fist. Felix gives me a toothy smile as if to say look who I made my bitch. My admiration for his game is strong.

  “Thought you might turn up. Here, take this.” Scottie thrusts Felix into my arms. “I’ve got to piss something awful. Sophie just came back from the Hamptons and is napping off a hangover, and …” He stops at that, turns heel, and takes the stairs two at a time to the upper floor.