Still Falling (Home In You #0)

by Crystal Walton

  “You always carry a CD in your purse?”

  Bree lifted a sassy shoulder. “Security blanket.”

  A laugh turned into another Mama-bear hug. “You’re a life saver, you know that? A hard-nosed, blind-half-the-time life saver. Sure you don’t want to move in the apartment downstairs?”

  Bree pecked her on the cheek and hurried through the door. “Gotta go.”

  “Make that an evasive life saver,” Nikki called after her.

  Bree waved while hustling to catch up to Daniels. “What did Josh say?”

  Daniels tipped her head behind her. “You can ask him yourself.”

  A hesitant turn brought Josh into sight, striding up the sidewalk.

  Bree rubbed her arm with her free hand as he approached. “I thought you were on modified assignment.”

  “I am.” He kneaded the back of his neck, a look on his face she couldn’t read. “I’m on my way to the precinct now.”

  “So, then . . .” What was he doing here? Her gaze traveled past him to her parents’ house. “Tell me you didn’t sneak in there. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here. You can’t keep trying to investigate this case and putting your job on the line.”

  Her earlier conversation with Nikki prodded her forward. She had to talk some sense into him. “You’re good at what you do, Josh. This neighborhood needs you on the streets. Don’t jeopardize that because you think being a beat cop isn’t good enough. You hear me? You can’t let misguided insecurities derail you from where you need to be. It’s too important.”

  Conviction rebounded back to her like a handball ricocheting off a wall. She tensed at the impact. Had she been doing the same thing?

  They both stood there staring until a gradual smile led Josh a step closer. “I didn’t come to search the crime scene.”

  “Oh.” Lovely. Now she could add another tally mark in the Make a Fool of Yourself in Front of Josh column she’d been racking up points in since she got back. Why’d she always have to be so quick to react?

  Not for the first time, she wanted to crawl into her violin case. She transferred it to her opposite hand and fought to level her gaze. “So, why are you here?”

  He lowered his focus to the pavement, and her pulse drummed in a pause that lasted far too long. Smile expanding, he lifted earnest brown eyes to hers again and edged yet another inch closer. “I came to ask you out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Loopholes

  Rehearsal hadn’t taken Bree’s mind off Josh and whatever he had planned tonight. Why didn’t she say no?

  His impossible-to-turn-down eyes swept to mind for the millionth time with the obvious answer. She craned her head toward the ceiling and grinned in spite of herself until the sound of someone bumping into her case on the floor jarred her back to the entryway.

  Fabulous. Like she hadn’t already given Franc enough reasons to think she couldn’t handle the pressure of a lead role. Why not add zoning out in the middle of the hall to the list?

  She had to find a way to focus. She’d worked too hard to get to this audition. If she could just get Franc to assure her it wasn’t all in vain, maybe she could shake off this doubt distracting her.

  That was probably stupid. What was she going to say to him? Hey, listen, I know you could end my career in a second if you wanted to, but I just thought I’d make sure you aren’t stringing me along for kickbacks that you’re never gonna get.

  Yeah, that’d go over real well.

  A frustrated moan merged into a sigh. She should just drop it.

  Of all moments, Franc came around the corner right as she bent to pick up her case.

  “Whoa.” He caught her. “You all right?”

  “Other than almost being a human hurdle?” Her chuckle fell flat at the sight of Natalie’s sneer zinging over her. “I’m fine,” she said, regaining her professional composure.

  “Good, good.” Franc pointed to the door. “We’re heading out for drinks.”

  “Just the two of you?” Her voice shouldn’t sound so small.

  “Unless you’d care to join us.” His eyes seconded the invitation. Unlike Natalie’s, which seemed to smile as though already knowing Bree’s answer.

  He must’ve read the discomfort on her face. “Natalie, give us a minute, will you?” He angled toward Bree. “Did you go back to your old neighborhood again?”

  She straightened out her skirt. “I’m not sure why that matters.”

  “It matters because I hate seeing the stress affect your performance. And your future.” He added the last part so softly, the whisk of the door opening almost absorbed it completely.

  When she didn’t respond, he followed her gaze toward Natalie and back. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts about the audition. These things come with a certain level of competition. You know that, right?”

  “Of course. As long as it’s based purely on merit.” Despite what it might cost her, she practically begged his eyes to agree.

  Other than a single blink, his features remained schooled. “Of course,” he mimicked in her same tone. “You have talent, Brianna. That’s why I recruited you and went out of my way to get you settled here.”

  “You know I appreciate that. I shouldn’t have . . .” What? Asked him to be honest?

  “Then try remembering why you’re here.” He withdrew a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and stopped over the threshold. “If you change your mind about coming out tonight, we’ll be at the Atlantic Grill till ten or so.”

  Though the door swung a good four feet in front of her, it might as well have slammed her in the face with everything she didn’t want to admit.

  Deflated, she shuffled outside. Her line of sight intersected with Josh’s truck, and a full-blown wince quaked over her. Partly from the ache seeing him always awakened and partly from the ache of feeling like the goals she’d been working toward were less meaningful than their adolescent dreams of making it as a band.

  As usual, it took Josh all of five point two seconds to read her expression. He started toward her but then gripped the truck’s door frame, as though counting on it to keep him in place.

  He wasn’t the only one relying on inanimate objects. Bree clutched her violin case to her stomach as a buffer while moseying over.

  Not that it did much good once she reached him. He took the case and placed it on the passenger seat through the open window. “Wanna talk about it?”

  That was a definite no.

  His grin hitched. “Figured as much. Good thing I know what makes you smile.”

  She pinched her lips together. Why, she’d never know. They listened to her about as well as her insubordinate heart did. She shoved him in the arm. “Better watch that arrogance, officer.”

  “According to my mom, it’s called confidence.”

  Bree could think of a few things to call it. Before she got them out, she did a double take at something shiny in the truck bed. “Is that . . . ?” No, he didn’t. “You kept our old ten-speeds?”

  Josh tightened the cord securing the bikes. “Just needed to replace the tires, and they’re as good as new.”

  If only the rest of life were as easy to repair. She ran her fingers along the sparkly purple frame, each scratch and rust spot tied to a memory. “I can’t believe you hung on to these.”

  “I knew you’d be itching for a ride when you came home.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Told you I knew what made you smile.”

  Just like he knew the heartache that pulsed underneath it like a bruise. Her chin drifted to her collar. “What if I never came back?”

  Josh turned her around to face him. “Then I would’ve kept waiting.” Sincerity crowded out any hint of hesitation or question.

  She diverted her attention to the asphalt. “They’re, uh, probably not safe to ride anymore.”

  He grasped either side of the truck rails, bookending her between two sculpted arms, and waited for her to be brave enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t think riding an old bike
is what has you so nervous.”

  “No?” What was with her voice vanishing today? She strained to broaden her shoulders. “Then what does?”

  Stupid question. Stupid emotions. Why didn’t she just plaster a giant welcome banner over her heart while she was at it?

  Josh circled an unruly curl around her ear. His gaze lingered over her mouth, the answer so obvious, he didn’t have to say it.

  Like she’d be that lucky.

  “This. Us. Knowing how much I want to kiss you right now.”

  “Josh.” She managed to look away. “The case—”

  “Isn’t my assignment anymore.”

  True. “But it’s still open.”

  He shrugged. “There are loopholes.”

  Speaking of holes, she ducked under his arm to escape. Or at least to find her breath again. “So, um, where did you think we were gonna ride these things?”

  His dimples voiced an entire silent conversation on their own—one she needed to cut off. Fast.

  “Josh, no.” She reached for his keys, but of course he cleared the bumper before she could grab them. She clambered into the truck and stared down his overly satisfied smile. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Who said anything about being fair?” He cranked the engine and shifted her pulse into overdrive.

  Tearing her gaze away from those eyes, she forced her seat belt in. “Daniels isn’t joining us?” Awkward or not, at least she’d be a buffer.

  “She’s off duty. Johnson’s on shift tonight.”

  “So, he’ll be tagging along?”

  “He’ll be nearby.” Josh flicked his blinker on and turned the corner, mouth quirking. “Part of the time.”

  Bree flashed toward him. “Josh, your job—”

  “Is gonna be fine. Stop worrying.” He jutted his chin at the rearview mirror. “Johnson’s right behind us. I’m not jamming either of us up. Promise.”

  Bree settled back in her seat but couldn’t stop gripping the seat belt, more from the thought of going on a date with Josh than anything else. Because that’s exactly what this was—a date. On their old stomping grounds. Where she’d undeniably fallen in love with him as kids.

  Perfect.

  The longer she stared out the passenger window, the more the sidewalk turned into a slideshow of memories urging her tight muscles to yield to a smile. “Roosevelt Island, of all places. Really?”

  “Hey, we used to run that island.”

  “Exaggerate much?”

  He feigned a look of offense. “Fine. Rephrase. We thought we used to run that island.”

  “Better.” She shifted her case on the floorboard, trying to stifle a laugh. Pointless. It came out with no air at first, followed by a snort. “Remember that time Bosco got a ticket for peeing behind the lighthouse?”

  “I told him to hold it.”

  Bree laughed so hard, she almost peed too. “His face when he was trying to apologize to that officer . . . I can’t even . . .”

  “Shoot, the best was seeing the officer’s face when Nikki tried to sweet talk Bosco’s way out of it. Now, that was classic.”

  And downright hilarious. And theirs to cherish. Same as all their summer memories.

  Fits of laughter and reminiscing led them past street signs and crosswalks as they approached the Roosevelt Island tramway. Josh parked, bobbed his brows, and unlocked the doors. “Ready to live a little?”

  Or die from humiliation. Even if she succeeded in not falling off the bike, she’d still fall for Josh even harder than she already had. No way she’d be able to hide that here.

  From the truck bed, he lowered her old purple ten-speed to the sidewalk.

  She grabbed it by the worn rubber-coated handles. “You know I haven’t ridden a bike in, like, five years, right?”

  His eyes held hers. “Exactly.” He hopped down, set his bike on the pavement, and shut the tailgate. Still without releasing her gaze, he edged toward her. “It’s about time you remember what you’re missing.”

  Like remembering how to breathe? Because she could sure use a few pointers right about now. She fluttered a glance away from their connection to the cratered bike seat. Police protocol wasn’t the only thing he was finding loopholes in. Their date hadn’t even officially started, and he was already breaching the defenses around her heart.

  He withdrew a jacket from the cab and locked up.

  “Since when did you start wearing a jacket in the summer?”

  “Since I started spending it with a girl who’ll need it before the sun even goes down.”

  On cue, a breeze swam off the East River and rippled across her skin. Bree tried not to quiver against the chill. As if faking anything ever worked around Josh.

  In sync with a growing smile, he came even closer. Every tendon in her body tensed in the lingering pause suspending them centimeters apart. He draped the leather jacket around her shoulders, swept her hair out from underneath, and left a hand on the back of her now-very-warm neck. The playfulness in his eyes turned to something deeper and decimated all shots at maintaining her balance. Just one more breath and—

  “Sure you didn’t get kicked off this detail on purpose?” Johnson teased while strolling up behind them.

  Shaking his head, Josh pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Nice timing, bro.”

  “Hey, if you wanna make your tram, someone had to snap you out of your trance.”

  “Thanks for looking out.”

  “I do what I can.” He clapped a hand over Josh’s shoulder. “Meet-up’s at the north point in an hour.”

  “Copy that.”

  With a nod, Johnson backed up toward his Charger parked behind them. “You know you’re really racking up the IOUs this week.”

  Josh laughed. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a way to cash in on them.”

  “You know it.” Waving overhead, he turned and opened his car door.

  Bree pushed up her bike’s kickstand. “Do I want to ask?”

  “Probably not.” He tipped his head toward the tram, a goofy grin re-emerging. “Time to roll.”

  He never could hide his excitement about things—always ready for an adventure. Maybe that was part of what drew him to be a cop . . . and to the same thing that put him in danger every day.

  “Don’t you think going out like this is kind of impractical? I mean, given everything else that’s going on?” The guys who’d attacked her and her dad were still at large.

  “I think that’s exactly why we should go out. To step away from it all and give your mind a break.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not trying to discount the threat.” He set an assuring hand over hers. “Between Johnson and me, you’re safe. Just ’cause I’m off the case doesn’t mean I’m not doing everything I can to protect you. But you gotta trust me on this, okay?”

  She trusted him more than she should. “Okay.”

  Crammed into the suspended cable car, she corralled her fears into a back corner of her mind. Once they were en route, trying not to laugh at the tourists clinging to the overhead rails, her concerns gradually drained into the river beneath them.

  Behind her, Josh grabbed hold of the rail around either side of her hips. “Maybe we didn’t run the island, but no one could’ve told us any different back then. Young, invincible. Flying up here with an endless view of the Upper East Side.”

  The awe in his tone told her exactly how he was taking in the skyline expanding in front of the giant window—admiration, a love for the city, pride mixed with reverence.

  His lips grazed her ear. “Tell me you don’t miss this.”

  Eyes closed, Bree inhaled the scent of Polo on his jacket and the husky sound of his voice. She nestled her back tighter against his chest and into the very thing she missed the most.

  A four-minute ride wasn’t nearly long enough. Once they reached the island, Josh took off like a bull rider from a pen. “Try to keep up with me, Miss Uptown.”

  “You did not just call
me that.”

  Her indignation ignited a trail of laughter behind him.

  That did it. She pedaled on a mission. Harder, faster. But the farther they went, the more the island’s charm confiscated everything else. The wind on her face, the smell of the river, the distant city lights cascading over the water. A jolt of life raced from her heart to her lips in a squeal of freedom she hadn’t experienced in years.

  Another round of Josh’s deep laughter bellowed in the wind. He peered over his shoulder. “There she is,” he called. “Knew I hadn’t lost you.”

  But he had. Because truthfully, she’d lost herself.

  Windblown and slightly more out of breath than she wanted to admit, Bree slowed beside the gate guarding the old Renwick Ruin.

  Josh dismounted his bike and propped it against the fence. “No better place to remember how to dream than the remnants of a medieval castle.”

  She made a face. “You mean an old smallpox hospital. Which, when you think about it, is kinda freaky.”

  Her teasing obviously didn’t faze him. He sauntered over, eyes gleaming, and laced his fingers around the small of her back. “Little imagination, Bree.”

  Still undaunted by her resistance, he swayed until her body moved with his. “Don’t you remember pretending we lived inside the castle walls? Picturing ourselves all decked out, dancing.”

  In any other setting, she would’ve laughed at the memories. But here—between the ivy-covered stone ruins and lamp-lit walkways—all she could do was cling to him as tightly as the truth held on to her. She didn’t need imagination. Her real prince and castle were right here, in the one place that’d always be home.

  Josh rested his cheek to her temple. “You know, it is kind of the perfect place to dance. Lights on the bridge, the river lapping against the bank. You have to admit, this place has summer romance ambience written all over it. In fact, I’m fairly certain it’s trying to tell us something.”

  Bree wrestled a smile. “That we look ridiculous dancing without any music?”

  Not missing a beat, he nestled her closer. “Who said there was no music?” He hummed in step with their swaying, adorably off tune.