The Effects of Falling (The Weight of Rain Duet Book 2)

by Mariah Dietz

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Other Works by Mariah Dietz

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Becoming His

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The His Series

  Becoming His

  Losing Her

  Finding Me

  The Weight of Rain Duet

  Book 1, The Weight of Rain

  Copyright © 2016 by Mariah Dietz

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at http://www.mariahdietz.com

  Cover Art by DreamaCamphuysen with Ink Doodle by Dreama

  inkdoodlebydreama@gmail.com

  Cover Designer: Hang Le with By Hang Le

  Interior Design and Formatting by Jill Sava with Love Affair With Fiction

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944206-02-4

  For Sarah Pinkerton who has taught me all the best things I know about being a friend. I am so grateful for you and all the joy, compassion, love, and beauty you bring to my world and so many others. Thank you for being my best friend.

  And for my boys who continue to teach and amaze me daily.

  I love you guys!

  “DUDE, HE’S GOING to seriously hurt himself,” Parker mumbles before wincing, indicating I shouldn’t look.

  It’s not because blood bothers me—I have had my fair share of scrapes and burns, or bacon, over the years, creating an entire network of scars—but watching King hurt himself from pure negligence inflicts a pain that makes my chest physically hurt. While many believe a girl can’t have a male best friend, I know they’re wrong because I have two—Kingston and Kashton Knight.

  “Shit.” I flinch, and push off the wall, hurrying to King’s limp form.

  The front tire of his bike is still spinning from where it lies beside him because of the speed he gained from trying to make a turn he shouldn’t have considered, especially not today with where his head has been.

  “You know, if you break both arms, I’m not going to wipe your ass for you, right?” Parker says.

  King shoots him a glare, grumbling something unintelligible, before rolling to his side and standing. Blood runs down his shin, circles his ankle, staining his sock and shoe as well as a path along the concrete floor as he pushes his bike to the standing metal rack. He roughly shoves it aside and disappears through the door his older brother, Kash, is entering with a smile.

  “Where’s he going?” Kash asks, jerking a thumb behind him when King doesn’t return his greeting.

  If this past week wasn’t filled with so much bloodshed, I’m sure he would instead be asking what in the hell happened. The brothers are experienced BMX riders, and neither is a stranger to bacon, but it’s rarely a daily occurrence. They spend most of their waking moments on bikes and have since long before they met me.

  Kash looks to me for an explanation, and it’s visible in his deep brown eyes that he’s relieved his brother is taking a respite, though it’s clear he’s worried there is some kind of additional problem or issue. I can read his silent thoughts as easily as I can my own. Eleven years of knowing someone and seeing them daily does that.

  When I met Kash, he was only twenty-two, one year older than me, and had gone pro three years prior. We all used to ride at the same indoor facility, and then he became the proud owner of a pretty sweet setup for riding—here, at his house. It was equipped with rails and paved banks—the hills that many refer to as ramps—all covered by a large roof set high enough that we rarely had to consider it when we were doing air tricks, but living in Oregon, the cold made it pretty brutal several months out of the year, and the additional pains of rain and sleet made it dangerous for a few more. Not to mention the encroaching moss that forced us to bleach the surface several times a year. So, last year Kash decided to have the old layout demolished, and set to work on designing the new shop with higher ceilings, multiple drop points, larger banks, and longer rails. The shop is a kingdom for people like us who live and breathe BMX riding.

  “Hopefully to bandage that wound. I think he left a pound of flesh across the floor. You need to install some heavy-duty hoses in this place.” I glance at the blood smears before looking back to Kash.

  His dark gaze nearly instantly moves from mine, settling on Parker, before he shakes his head. “He’s got to chill out. I know Lo being gone is messing with his head, but he needs to figure it out, or he’s going to ruin every chance he has with going pro.”

  “He’ll be all right. They’ll give him a few additional chances since he’s your brother. He just needs to find his rhythm. We’ve all been there.” I take a few short steps toward where he’s standing beside Parker, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

  Kash has been ignoring me for a couple of weeks now. It’s the Knight way—ignore the problem long enough, and maybe it will go away. Eventually, they will learn that the saying actually goes, ignore it long enough, and shit will blow up in your face, bigger than if you had initially spent a few minutes fixing it.

  Parker glances at me and then Kash. “I think he should take some time off and go to New York. Hell, I would.”

  I would too, but I’m not going to voice my thoughts because Kash still isn’t looking at me, making me feel as though he doesn’t care about my opinion.

  He has no reason to be ignoring me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I want to scream these same words at him, but I refrain with only seconds of my patience remaining. The problem is, I’ve been in love with Kash since I first met him. Because of him, I fell even more in love with riding, and was inspired to pick up photography—which is now a main aspect of my job which includes traveling with Kash and photographing his rides, working on his marketing and promotional tours, and helping develop routines for competitions—because I wanted to capture every single moment of his riding after seeing his perfect stance, impeccable timing, and complete lack of fear. I was immediately in love with him, and I hated it. And this was all before I’d even seen his face or learned that he was Kashton Knight, upcoming BMX star who had recently lost his girlfriend, Arianna, in a tragic car accident, leaving him as a newly single father to his daughter, Mercedes.

  Those last two attributes should have had me running away. My own father had remarried a younger wom
an and had a couple of toddlers who made his house seem more chaotic and harried than a Tarantino film.

  However, watching Kash seek out his daughter after completing a move that left me gaping with shock and intrigue, and seeing him hold her with an attentiveness and adoration that was unparalleled to anything I’d ever seen, soon had me yearning to be on the receiving end of his attention.

  Call it serendipity or blind luck that he began training with my same coach—my Uncle Toby—leading us to meet nearly daily. Things have never been awkward with Kash, but at the beginning, he was quieter, sometimes lost in thought, likely ones of the girlfriend he’d lost, whom all of Portland and the BMX world had mourned. I didn’t know how to broach the subject of her passing with him or even what to say, so I didn’t. Instead, I pushed the limits and my abilities to prove myself to a guy I only knew because I’d stalked him on Google and rode beside him.

  It took three months before we had an actual conversation that didn’t consist of a tip or comment toward improvement. I had crashed hard, bending the frame of my bike, and Kash had stopped and rushed over, worry clear in his eyes and lips that were stretched with concern. I had fractured both my fibula and tibia. My leg was in a cast up to my knee for eight weeks, and I’d spent each and every one of those days in the large shop—or box, as we called it—where we held practices, watching Kash and the few others who trained with us, because my coach/uncle required our attendance regardless of our physical state.

  A couple of weeks into riding the bench and trying not to go crazy, Kash sat beside me with a heavy thud and passed me a package of black licorice. I hated black licorice, but I ate every bite.

  Lame.

  Pitiful.

  Ridiculous.

  Yeah, I know, but I’d do it again. In fact, I still do.

  He asked me to spot him, hoping I could see why he’d been doing a double rather than triple rotation. When I gave him my feedback, I had to keep my arms pressed tightly to my sides because I was sweating with nerves that had me feeling even lamer than eating the licorice I hated. But Kash didn’t seem to notice that my tongue felt like it was tripping over my lips and teeth as I averted eye contact, unable to hold his bright stare. In fact, he’d hugged me and then ruffled my hair, confusing me more than any prior crush.

  The next day before practice, he delivered another package of black licorice and a smile that erased every reason I had been clinging to for the need to avoid him.

  “Are you buying my friendship?” I asked.

  He was sitting so close to me that I could feel his shoulders lift when he shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

  A week later I was introduced to his little brother, King, who was fresh out of high school and itching with the desire to get out there and practice. But he was forced to the bench beside me, not ready yet to be in the advanced class. I’m fairly certain he didn’t even notice my presence until every last rider had dismounted and Kash had caught the bottle of water I’d thrown to him.

  King’s attention has always been like that—at least it was up until he met Lo, his girlfriend and Kash’s previous employee who had taken care of Mercedes all of last year. I don’t think anything has ever distracted him from riding, but she seems to have an effect on every aspect of King—hence his new wound. I understand it implicitly because Kash has the very same influence over me.

  “He’s overreacting. Lo’s going to be home in a few days. I don’t understand why everyone’s all worked up about this. Mercedes is in there, freaking out too.” Kash rubs a hand over the back of his neck, revealing he’s stressing out too, though he’s not admitting to it.

  “It is a big deal. What if Lo’s artwork gets accepted and they want her to showcase all of her art there? She could be moving.” Parker’s the one brave enough to finally admit the thoughts we’ve all been avoiding.

  “She can’t move.” Kash drops his chin and pulls out his cell phone. “King would kill himself.” His voice is flat, because like Parker and me, I’m sure he believes this is true.

  When Lo left for Italy at the beginning of the summer, King lost that small bit of caution he’d previously possessed and became a kamikaze while riding.

  What’s difficult to understand is, you can’t have much fear in this sport; if you do, you will get hurt. You’d be twenty-feet in the air, considering all the ways you could get injured, practically guaranteeing to get laid out because you weren’t paying attention to what you needed to be focused on. However, if you lose all sense of fear, you’re going to become a liability. Being brave and confident, yet smart and careful is a very fine line, one some people can never find the balance of again once they’ve allowed that fear to either diminish too far or grow a little too strong.

  Believe me, this is another thing I know intimately. That’s why, during competitions, I sit on the sidelines with my camera lens between me and the bike. Even though I still ride nearly daily, I’ve lost my passion to compete against anyone, including myself.

  “It’s Lo, guys. She isn’t moving,” I say. She has to stay.

  “He just got rid of that limp. We need to keep him off a bike until we at least hear from her.” Kash flips his hat backward and then leaves us with the memory of King’s crash a few months ago fresh in our thoughts.

  “What’s going on between you two?”

  I widen my eyes at Parker, feigning confusion. Clearly, his thoughts have already moved forward.

  He drops his chin and smiles dubiously. “Don’t bullshit me, Summer. You only think you’re a good liar.”

  I stick my thumb in my mouth and blow in an exaggerated fashion before flipping him the bird.

  Laughing, he dips his chin and shakes his head. “Spencer hit on you again?”

  The thought of the producer Kash often works with that always gives me the creeps, makes me wrinkle my nose with distaste. “You know I avoid Spencer at all costs.”

  Parker smiles. “Something’s obviously gotten his panties in a twist.”

  “Well, why don’t you go find out? You probably know the size and issues involving his panties better than I do. All I know is, it has nothing to do with me.”

  “That makes sense since he’s only been working to avoid you.”

  I want to flip him off again or contest his accusation, but it’s true, and if Parker has noticed, that means everyone else has too.

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  With a deep sigh, I leave the shop and make my way toward the house.

  November has brought nothing but an endless cycle of rain that has the skies so dark and gloomy it feels like even mornings are on the cusp of becoming dusk.

  Without knocking, I swing the front door open, annoyed with Kash, annoyed with King, annoyed with Lo, and annoyed with the fact that I am the one who has to resolve whatever is causing this tension. I find Kash alone in the office, looking through files and images on the new leg of his marketing campaign.

  Instinctively, I grip my hips and face him, my temper already at a low simmer. “What’s your deal?”

  “I’m just tired of King trying to kill himself.”

  I knew he’d answer. Kash and I know each other too well. Had he tried to say it was nothing, he knew I would have busted his balls.

  But he won’t look at me, which only confirms this issue has nothing to do with King and everything to do with me. We’ve only gone through one other period like this, and it was while he was dating a woman named Sadie. He never told me about her. I had walked in one day and found the two of them making out. Initially, I’d wanted to turn around and pretend like I never saw it, but that was impossible since King was right behind me.

  Could that be what’s happening? Is Kash dating someone?

  I can’t imagine that being the case. King would tell me if it were. After Sadie, he knows I would kill him if he didn’t. Then again, King is so distracted with riding again and Lo traveling that I don’t think he’s aware of which day of the week it is.

  But Lo would
know. Lo has been a little preoccupied with arranging things for this trip to New York for her drawings and some paintings to be accepted at a prestigious art gallery, but she notices things. While I originally felt really jealous about her relationship with Kash, I’m grateful for it now because he opens up to her, and I’m pretty confident he would tell her about this. And Lo would tell me … right?

  Without calling Kash out for his bullshit answer, I head to the door. I despise that he’s making me question so much about myself, simply by him being so aloof and absent. I absolutely loathe that I’ve somehow given him the power to do so. I don’t even know when that occurred. When did I stop looking at other men? When did Kash’s happiness start outweighing my own? And how in the hell did that happen?

  “Summer.”

  Kash’s voice makes my feet slow, and I hate that too. I flash a glare over my shoulder because while I’m not ready to tell him how angry I am with him, I have no problem showing it.

  “We’re okay. I just … I just have a lot of shit to get done. And I’ve got to find another new nanny.”

  Adding Mercedes to the mix is a low blow. When it comes to her, he knows I can’t be mad. Part of the reason I fell so deeply in love with Kash is because of his love for his daughter. She has always come first, and I know she always will. Something about seeing his dedication and devotion to her firsthand makes me fall harder and harder for him.

  “It’s whatever, Kash. I’m going to find King and get out of here.”

  “Do you want to head to Spencer’s with me?”

  Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

  I do though, and I’m shocked I was able to say no so convincingly. Kash’s creased forehead and slight frown confirms he is too. And is that disappointment in his brown eyes? God, please be disappointment. Tell me you’re as miserable as I am. Truth be told, I know Kashton Knight loves me. He just isn’t ready to admit it … maybe not even to himself.