Falling Deeper (Falling Series)

by Lucia Grace

  Then the last two years without her filter in. Damon coming to my fucking rescue that day I woke up in the hospital. The rehab and withdrawals. The daily struggle to stay clean and get on with my life. Every day, every single fucking day, missing Ember with my whole being. Wondering if she was okay, if she moved on, if she went to college. And always wishing I could make my way back to her.

  FUCK!

  More than anything do I wish I could have gotten the fucking courage to return home, return to Ember, and fix us. Take back what was mine. Especially now.

  Thinking of Ember scared and fighting for her life, I finally snap. Chest heaving, blood boiling, a red mist coming over my eyes. I fucking lose it. I swipe both arms along the tabletop and clear it of all the junk that’s accumulated. The smashing of dirty dishes and glass ringing out through the air, fueling my rage.

  Then with all my strength on a roar, I flip the fucking thing. Taking out chairs with it. The loud smash of the wood tabletop breaking against the floor, masked by the rush of blood pumping through my veins. It’s still not enough. The rage and the pain are still consuming me.

  So I spin, looking to create more wreckage, when I spot a lone dining chair remaining toward my right. Quick as a whip I snatch it up and smash it against the nearest wall.

  The wall giving way to a gaping hole and spraying dry wall all over the place.

  Wood splintering and raining down around me.

  The wood cracking in my tense grip.

  As I stand there with a chair leg left in my hands, my chest still heaving, I toss it to the floor as I collapse against the island that separates the kitchen and small dining room. Pain rips through my chest as I envision Ember, bloodied and terrified on her classroom floor.

  My legs give way and I clench my eyes shut as my ass hits the kitchen tile. I can feel the tears leaking from my tightly closed eyelids as the next vision flashes to my girl tucked in a hospital bed, looking small and fragile and scared.

  With that last thought I can’t take it anymore and I break. Gasping for air as sobs shake my large body. The visions of her scared and broken playing on repeat through my mind.

  I can only remember crying two other times in my life. Both involving Ember. That day in court. Then that day I ruined us both. Closing the door on her, on us. So it’s only fitting that these tears fall for her as well. She’s my greatest weakness, my biggest hope, and my deepest love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EMBER

  Pain radiates throughout my entire body as I struggle to open my eyes and shake the heavy fog that seems to have settled over me. It’s as if I’m stuck in limbo, with the weight of sleep trying to keep me under while my body tries to wake.

  What the hell is going on?

  I can hear quiet sniffling somewhere in the distance, but my damn eyes won’t budge so I can seek out the noise. I start to shift as panic takes over—I’ve always hated the dark—when a searing pain ricochets from my shoulder to my abdomen, halting all my movements.

  A silent gasp of pain works up and slips past my dry lips and triggers a memory I wish I could forget. The gunman and the panic. The wreckage and the mayhem. The bullets and the pain. The sounds of horror and the smell of fear. The tiny bodies of my students huddled together, crying and trembling and screaming. All of it rushes back to me, and I can’t help the torrent of tears that slip down the sides of my face behind my tightly closed eyelids.

  I will my eyes to open to take in my surroundings. Praying that I’ve been taken out of the chaos that erupted in my classroom this morning. Hoping that the silence means my kids are safe.

  Oh please, God, let those children be safe.

  As I attempt to move and open my eyes yet again, I hear a clear gasp of shock ring through the air followed by a choked out, “Oh thank God.”

  Momma. It must be her. Did she make it to the school? Am I home?

  “Ember, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Her voice is quivering through her held back sobs.

  At her softly spoken question my eyes finally answer my demands and open slightly. I’m squinting into the bright lights from above, which causes the pounding in my head to intensify when Momma comes into view from my right.

  “Oh, sweetheart, please.” She’s pleading with me, but I can’t get my throat to work. “Can you hear me? Are you okay? Oh, Ember, I need you to be okay. You’re all I have.” On her whispered declaration the dam finally breaks and I can hear her sobs break free. She gently clutches my right hand that was settled along my side and raises it to her lips, placing a gentle, motherly kiss against my fingers before bringing our joined hands back to the bed. A bed I just realized I’m lying in, as that distinct hospital smell permeates my senses.

  Relief washes over me as realization of where I am comes to me, but before I can question anything that relief quickly vanishes, as I feel the wetness of Momma’s tears hit my arm from where she has her head bowed. And all I can do is lie here and watch her fall apart because my damn body won’t listen to my brain.

  I need to reassure her that besides the pain I’m okay, and more than that I need answers. So I try clearing my throat but the action feels as if I swallowed shards of glass it’s so dry and raw. But I ignore the slicing pain and work my throat so I can talk.

  Momma lifts her head and notices the action. She holds up her hand as she tries to get herself together and spins to a table behind her. She then immediately turns back around with a small plastic cup full of water and places the straw at my cracked lips.

  “Sweetheart, try and take a small sip for me.” When I feel the straw hit my mouth I gingerly drink some water, and almost groan in agonizing relief as the cool water quenches my thirst and soothes the burn.

  “The doctor was in here not ten minutes ago and said the anesthesia should have worn off enough that you’d be waking up soon. He said I could offer you a couple sips of water if you needed before calling them in here, but nothing more before then.” She’s whispering so softly it’s as if she’s afraid any louder and I’ll disappear.

  To assure her the water helped, I gently nod my head in understanding and to signify I’m done. After she places the water on the bedside table and looks back to me, she takes a seat in the chair I had yet to notice. It’s right by my head, close enough to the bed so I know she’s been sitting vigil until I woke up.

  “Thank you,” I scratch out through my still sore throat. Her eyes well up with fresh tears at hearing my hoarse voice, and I continue on before they can fall. “Wh-what happened? How long have I been out?”

  She looks away and clears her throat before bringing her eyes back to my heavy ones. The tears filling her eyes slide down her slightly flushed cheeks as she starts. “You’ve been unconscious since they rushed you in here yesterday morning. There…there was a hostile father—”

  She stops when she sees my eyes slam closed. Just the mention of Mr. Boyles has fear prickling my skin.

  And I’ve been out since yesterday? Why?

  “N-no. I meant after.” I gingerly swallow before continuing. “I remember him storming my classroom, and I remember trying to make it to the kids as Damon burst through the doorway. I just…I don’t remember much after a searing pain…” I trail off as the throbbing in my abdomen and shoulder intensifies. As if reminding me of what happened. “Oh my God! I…I was shot. Wasn’t I?” The tears I so badly was trying to hold back for Momma’s benefit finally break free.

  She holds my gaze, tears tracking down both our faces, as she slowly nods her head. “Yeah, baby girl. Twice, one to the shoulder and then one to the abdomen.”

  This time an audible gasp slips past my lips and I gingerly move my heavy hand to my mouth to trap the sobs working up my sore throat. Tears rush down my cupped hand and Momma grips tightly yet gently to my other. Trying to offer comfort to us both.

  “You lost a lot of blood and they had to operate to remove the bu-bullet from your stomach.” She stops to compose herself again before continuing. “It missed all vit
al organs so you’ll make a full recovery, but it will take a little time with all the blood loss and both injuries.”

  My eyes slide closed as I relive the shooting. The pain, the terror, then the darkness. Then I begin to panic as the shock of reliving my shooting through Momma’s words and through my mind wears off and my thoughts turn to those beautifully innocent children left in my care all day.

  Was I able to save them? Was I able to protect them?

  “What about the kids? Tell me those kids are okay? That I was able to help them? Protect them? Please, Momma, tell me!”

  I start to panic even more, my breath becoming choppy, and Momma steps right in to soothe me. “Shh, baby girl. You have to stay calm for me. Deep breaths, sweetheart. Too much movement and you could tear a stitch and injure yourself more.”

  “But those children. I need to know they’re all right. I tried to protect them. I tried, Momma.”

  “I know you did, Ember, and you did. Besides a couple with some bumps and bruises from the debris they are all unharmed and safe.”

  “Oh dear God, thank you!” My panic subsides slightly, but my tired eyes start to get heavier.

  Momma notices and informs me that she really should get the doctor. She leans down to place a gentle kiss to my forehead like she has done so many times before. But this time I can feel her trembling lips as she whispers an “I love you” before pulling away. Tears still dampening her aged yet beautiful face. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.” She hiccups on a sob, clenching her eyes closed tightly and reopening them to let her tears fall yet again. “But thank God I’ll never have to know.” She attempts a small smile through her tears.

  Mine still steadily flow down my face as they have been since I woke up.

  “I love you, baby girl,” she fiercely whispers before turning toward the door. Making me all the more thankful for Damon and the doctors saving me. Because as much as Momma can’t live without me, I don’t know what I’d without her. Even in death.

  While I lie here in this hospital bed, after watching Momma step out to get the doctor, I attempt to control my fluctuating emotions of anger and sorrow, rage and despair. All that keeps running through my head though is that this could have been it. I could have been gone in the blink of an eye if Damon didn’t make it when he did. I wouldn’t have experienced meeting a man, getting married, carrying another child, but getting to raise them this time. And each time I closed my eyes the only man I could ever picture alongside me was the one man who still haunts my dreams.

  The one man I should never want and could never have.

  He is always there. He is always the only one.

  Kayson.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EMBER

  A small smile lifts my lips when I see Momma hesitantly walk through the door, followed by Damon, which has me bypassing my thoughts on her entrance and causes my smile to stretch a little more. I haven’t seen him since I’ve been awake. Momma told me he stayed as long as he could the day I was brought in, until he had to go back to work. Today is my third day in the hospital, so I am a little surprised it took him so long to come back in to visit. Especially since I wanted to thank him for saving me.

  Damon offers me a tight smile in return and walks stiffly into the room. My smile falters slightly when I take in his demeanor, but then it slips completely when I see a third figure fill the entire doorway. I haven’t seen this man in four years.

  Not counting my dreams he still haunts.

  Kayson.

  One look. One split second in time and that’s all it takes to stop me in my tracks and throw my world off its axis. One look and I’m transported back in time to late night phone calls, innocent smiles, tentative touches, and life-changing firsts. One look and all the good and bad collide so I’m drowning and burning and soaring all at once.

  He’s standing there, larger than life, but I know my eyes must be playing tricks on me because no way is he really standing before me. No way is he really staring down at me in this hospital bed with rage burning bright behind the tears shining in his eyes. No way is his towering frame trembling right in front of me as he clenches and fists his hands so hard his knuckles pop and the sound ricochets off the drab hospital room walls. No way is he really here after all this time; bringing with him the memories of our past and the years I was forced to live without him.

  But he is and he does and my stupid heart soars.

  As he stands there, frozen in place, my heart kicks into overdrive as I take him in from head to toe. The shock of seeing him rendering me silent. His dark, tousled hair is just as sexy and messy as ever, still longer on top and almost buzzed on the sides, as if he’s done nothing but run his hands through it. He’s taller and bigger than he was in high school. Much bigger. He’s all long, strong legs encased in dark denim jeans. Broad, muscular chest and arms covered by a dark blue, tight fitting Henley with the arms rolled up to expose corded forearms with a tattoo covering his right arm. Which is new. Then there are his eyes that haven’t changed a bit, appearing more blue than gray due to the color of his shirt, making them pop even more behind his long dark lashes that I’m still jealous over.

  He’s just as breathtaking as he was four years earlier. Even more so if that is even possible.

  Snapping back to reality from my perusal of Kayson, I feel unshed tears flood my eyes as my chest restricts and the panic starts to set in.

  Oh my God, he’s really here.

  I notice movement from the corner of my eye since I still can’t take my eyes off of a silent Kayson, but swing my head toward the deep timber of Damon’s voice when he starts to speak.

  “Em,” he starts as he moves to the side of my bed. “Breathe. Then take some more deep breaths for me.”

  A low, muffled growl from the front of the room rumbles through the air when Damon reaches my side and places his much larger, darker hand over my much smaller, paler one. He flashes Kayson a look before bringing his hazel eyes back to me. He offers the touch and his kind eyes as a comfort, as if he knows this is about to change everything.

  And he’s right. It is.

  “Sweetheart.” Mom cuts in. Attempting to cut through the tension permeating the air. Hesitation clear in her voice. She steps up to the foot of my hospital bed. “I know this may not be the best time, but he’s been sitting out in the waiting room for almost three whole days now. I’ve made him wait for as long as I can.” She stops as I swing my head back to Kayson, to stare at him in shock.

  Almost three days? He’s been here since the day I was shot and no one said anything?

  I still haven’t uttered a word and neither has Kayson. Momma’s and Damon’s voices the only things to fill the air besides the frantic breaths I try to take in. It’s like we’re stuck in time, getting lost in the memories of what we had and the thoughts of what could have been. I start to get restless under his scrutiny. His eyes have yet to leave any part of me since he walked in.

  As I take in a shuddered breath, holding back the dam of tears that threaten to break free, Kayson snaps out of his trance and takes a step toward my prone state. “Ember…” He trails off as his voice cracks on my name. As if it physically hurts to speak it.

  I wonder if it hurts as much as it does to hear it?

  The deep roughness of his voice snaps me out of my stupor as well, and has a mixture of anger and deep sadness igniting inside of me.

  How dare he show up here, now, after all this time. How dare he look better than I could have ever imagined. How dare he make me want what I can’t have and remind me of all I’ve lost.

  “H-how dare you!” I shout at him. My voice still rough and raw from its rare use these past few days.

  His eyes widen in shock at my rasped words.

  Momma yet again attempts to break the tension. “Sweetheart, maybe Damon and I should step out. Give you two some privacy to talk.” She always had a soft spot for Kayson. Hence why she put up with me falling all over myself over him
when we were kids, why she supported me taking him back every time he broke my heart.

  “No. If anyone is leaving it will be him. There is no reason for him to be here. None.” I shift my eyes from Momma back to Kayson.

  “Baby—” He tries again.

  My eyes widen in shock. That endearment, passing through those full lips, unleashes the fury I’ve held in for the past four years. “Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me, you son of a bitch.” All eyes swing from Kayson to me. “I’ve just been shot for crying out loud and now is when you choose to come back. Now?”

  “Look, man, maybe you and I should step out and you can come back another time?” Damon interjects, but Kayson shakes his head vigorously then looks back to me.

  “Ember, please.” He pleads with his voice and his eyes. “I saw the shooting on the news and I,” he clears his throat, “I’m sorry, but I had to come back to you.” He casts his eyes downward, looking even more nervous than he did when he walked through the door.

  And he should be.

  “You had to come back to me? Why, because I was shot and could have died?”

  His pained eyes shoot up to me as I utter that last word then narrow in anger. “Don’t say that, Em. Don’t ever fucking say that. You hear me?” His voice vibrates with restrained emotion.

  I can hear Momma crying quietly in the background. Tears no doubt brought on by the statement I just made. But I can’t bring myself to care.

  “It may have been four years since I’ve seen you. It may have taken me too damn long to get back to you. And I know I have no right to demand anything of you. But you will never fucking utter those words past those lips ever again.” His eyes hold a stone-cold fury I haven’t seen in a long time. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply, composing himself before opening his eyes as he continues. “Look, I know I fucked-up and that coming back here was probably a mistake.”