Waterfall Effect

by K. K. Allen

  My mind immediately moves to the gutter, remembering the way his mouth felt on me last night, swirling and sucking until breathing became a chore. The aim of his dark gaze tells me he’s remembering the same thing. His eyes snap to mine, and I see his fight for control within them.

  “You have five minutes to drink your coffee and get your ass on my bike.” It’s like his voice has been rubbed with sandpaper. Still, he makes no move to close the distance, and this makes me a little bit bolder.

  “Fifteen minutes. I need to shower.”

  “Ten.” He grins. “Unless you want to come just like that.”

  Rolling my eyes, I set my mug down on the counter and turn toward the ladder. “Not a chance, Mills.”

  “Fine,” he calls after me, ignoring my attempt to rile him up by using his last name. “Fifteen minutes. Not a second later.”

  I throw him a testing look over my shoulder when I reach the ladder to the loft. “Or what?”

  This time, he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s admiring my ass. “Or I’ll have to come after you.”

  With a shake of my head, I’m pulling myself up the ladder. “I’m locking the door.”

  He laughs.

  Jax hands me a helmet when I approach, and I strap it on, taking note of all twenty-five minutes he allowed me to get ready. I’m glad I took his lead on my attire and dressed in white jean shorts and a loose, flowy blue tank top. It’s a warm day, but it’s still breezy thanks to the thin clouds rolling overhead.

  I take a seat, squeezing my legs around Jaxon’s hips and sliding my arms around his waist. This time, I’m unafraid to explore the rigid terrain through his shirt, and I’m more eager than ever to shift forward, pressing my chest flush against his back. There isn’t a sliver of air between us as I press my cheek into his shoulder blades.

  “Ready?” His voice is soft, but I can feel the rumble of his words through his back, warmth radiating from him, and I smile. He always was my furnace.

  “Ready,” I call back, just loud enough for him to hear over the purr of the engine.

  Jaxon’s hand finds mine over his stomach. He weaves his fingers, thick and strong, through them and squeezes. The simple gesture sends a rush straight to my heart.

  With another rev of the engine, we’re off, leaving dust behind us as we zoom down my driveway and out onto the main road. The mountain pass is long and winding, the stretch of road taking us past campsites and resort entrances. We continue to climb with the rising sun. My head is lifted now, my eyes wide open as I hungrily take in everything I missed while I was away. I’d almost forgotten the thrill of strapping myself to Jaxon as he steers, the bike purring powerfully beneath us. The landscape whizzes by, the rich scent of earth and pine lost to the wind as I remember to breathe through my nose.

  Our ride seems to last forever, and it feels just like it used to. There wasn’t a single day after Jaxon and I admitted our feelings that we didn’t try, in some small way, to run away together. To hide in the falls, wander deep into the woods, and paint our way into another existence entirely—always together. Often we would ride, just as we’re doing now, making stops along the way to explore or eat snow cones and fresh fruit from the roadside stands. And then we’d continue on, letting the wind whip around us and the sun warm our exposed skin as the memories overtook us. Because this was it. And it was everything.

  We finally pull in to a gravel parking lot I recognize as belonging to Skinny Dip Falls. I bite back a smile as I climb off the bike and pull off my helmet. Jaxon reaches for it, and our fingers brush. Warmth spreads across my cheeks as he grins. Jaxon and I never went skinny dipping here, but we always joked about it.

  A laugh bursts from me and I tilt my head at him. “Dream on, Jax.”

  He shakes his head, amusement still lighting his face as his curls shake loose around his head, his wild hair falling around his gray eyes.

  He holds out a hand. “Come. First stop of the day.”

  Warmth spreads in my chest at how much Jaxon still holds on to the past just as I do.

  My obsession with waterfalls started on my first visit to Balsam Grove. I’d follow every river, creek, and stream, often getting in trouble doing it, in hopes that eventually I’d find my way to one. The time I found Jaxon painting the mural on the cottage walls when I was eight years old wasn’t the only time I’d gotten lost. It happened often, and Jaxon was rarely there to save me.

  Something changed when I was fifteen. After that jump into the falls, when I looked up to find Jaxon staring at me, we had a connection. Suddenly he was always there. Always watching. Always waiting.

  The very next day, I was skipping over the creek, fearlessly hopping from rock to rock. I enjoyed the small thrill of rebellion. I thought it made me brave. When the sound of a loud engine stopped me, I almost slipped on a rock. Jaxon was pulling up on a royal blue dirt bike, yelling words I couldn’t make out until he got closer. “Get out of the stream,” I heard faintly over the roar of the engine.

  I’m not sure why I listened. I didn’t feel like he had any sort of authority over me, but I knew I didn’t want to disappoint him. So I hopped back to land and approached him. He offered me his helmet, which I took and placed on my head. Then I climbed onto the back of his bike and wrapped my shaking arms around his waist, my heart beating fast and hard against his back.

  “Hold on,” he yelled so I would hear him.

  I did.

  I figured he’d take me home. Tattle on me to my parents. Lecture me again about getting lost.

  But he didn’t do any of those things. It was like he knew I didn’t want to go back to the tension and unpredictability waiting for me at the cottage. Instead, he took me far away, up the mountain pass, where he pulled over and parked. We parked and hiked the short distance to a grand view overlooking the waving treetops and ravines. My chest shook with excitement, and I batted away the fear I knew I should be feeling. I knew of Jaxon, but I didn’t know him. I had no right to be on the back of his motorcycle, but rational thoughts weren’t the ones I reached for that day when it came to the boy up the river. He was a thrill to be with. A forbidden fruit I could only wish to taste. He gave me adventure when the rest of the world gave me rules.

  Jaxon didn’t say a word as he pulled the large, military green burlap pack from his back. He flipped it open and went to work, setting up his easel, canvas, and paints.

  I watched in awe as he painted the sky and the treetops as we were witnessing them. He even captured the broken yellow flower I’d accidentally trampled when we first arrived. Every line, every detail was meticulous, shadowed to perfection and loud with color.

  I’d grown up loving art class, always knowing I was sort of good at it, but I’d never created anything like that. Nothing that felt real. It was as if Jaxon’s mission was to expose the earth just as he saw it rather than trying to conceal its imperfections with a vision of what should be. Jaxon made the imperfections perfect.

  I fell in love with Jaxon that day. He didn’t say much, but I didn’t need words to see his beauty. His heart bled into his art, and that’s how I knew.

  When he started bringing an extra backpack for me—complete with an easel, canvas, and paints—he taught me the basics, but also encouraged me to explore on my own. I became addicted, often begging for Jaxon to take me to a new waterfall. And once we’d get to one, before even unpacking my things, I’d strip to my underwear and dive in.

  My parents would have murdered me if they knew what Jaxon and I were up to. Hell, Jaxon’s parents would have murdered him too. His father expected Jaxon to be running the property, fixing every leak, every rotted board, every nick in the paint. If they’d only known that we met at the Hollow Falls bridge every day to take off on another adventure together, they would have put a stop to it, and maybe my heart wouldn’t have ended up broken that summer. Maybe there wouldn’t have been anything about Jaxon worth remembering.

  When we reach the c
learing before the falls, I squeeze Jaxon’s hand. “Thank you for this.”

  He turns to me, and something in his eyes tells me I don’t need to thank him. This isn’t just for me. It’s for him too.

  “C’mon. Let’s get you to your waterfall.”

  It’s practically a race to dump our things on the nearest rock and strip down to our suits. Jaxon’s eyes are appreciative as they sweep over me. I can tell he’s trying to be sly, but I catch his gaze as it settles back on my face. Caught, he winks and takes off, tossing himself off the rock, tucking his legs, and falling into the deepest part of the pool.

  We’re not alone, unfortunately, but I’m not surprised. This is one of the most popular tourist spots in the area. People love climbing the rocks of the falls, a series of tiered rock beds that carries the cascading water into the swimming hole below.

  The way waterfalls form and change over time has always intrigued me. The way unforeseen forces come along and erode the land, transforming what was once there. Like my memory. Darkness creeps in with the thought, and I shudder.

  I used to believe my mind was nothing like a waterfall because a waterfall never loses its beauty, no matter how it changes. I felt as if I had lost all the good parts of me after those three days of darkness. But being back here in Balsam Grove, surrounded by all the things I used to love, inspires me just as much as it used to. Perhaps it wasn’t the darkness that kept me from remembering. Maybe I was just avoiding the light.

  Now, I believe anything is possible. Just because pieces of me were lost along the way doesn’t mean they’re gone forever. They’re here, right where I left them.

  I’m standing on the same rock Jaxon jumped from just moments ago, taking in the scene before me with the fullest eyes. I pull in a deep inhale and let out a satisfying release, and the full weight of the world dissolves around me. The fresh breeze feeds me the scent of pine and wildflowers I didn’t even realize I was craving. The air, crisp but warm, hits me deep in the chest.

  “Jump, Aurora.”

  I smile and peer down at Jaxon, who’s now wading in the water below, staring up at me with curious eyes. Not questioning or accusing, just curious. Like he knows everything about today is a hit of nostalgia I need to take at my own pace, and he’s allowing me to. But he wants to experience it with me, not watch idly on the sidelines.

  A sudden rush of adrenaline carries me to the edge, and I jump out from the rock and into the plunge pool below. For a moment, I’m soaring through the air, and then I’m plunging deep into the ice-cold water. That’s when clarity hits.

  This is why I came back.

  After so many years of trying so damn hard to find my way back to myself, I was only distancing myself further. I needed this place and its many simple offerings to be the guidance that would bring me home. And finally, I’m here.

  I gasp when I reach the surface, the sting of the cold finally hitting me, my numbness dissolving like an ice cube in the sun. I see Jaxon swimming toward me with shining eyes.

  “Finally,” he says gently as his eyes lock on mine. “Where’d ya go?”

  “Sorry it took me so long.” My words are soft and honest, holding so much more meaning than a simple apology. Maybe Jaxon and I needed the years apart to become who we are today. Maybe we needed to fall apart to find our way back to each other. Maybe we had to chisel away the soft rock to find a platform sturdy enough for us to stand on—together.

  In the past, our streams were always colliding, always forbidden. It was exciting, but it never could have worked out in the long run. We would have destroyed each other with the thrill of it all, without truly understanding our own paths. But I can feel something new forming between us. Whatever it is carries the strength of yesterday along with the knowledge of today. And it’s sacred.

  “What is it, Waterfall Eyes?”

  The nickname steals my breath. I’d forgotten. How could I have forgotten?

  Jaxon closes the distance between us, his fingers dipping into my sides, gripping my waist, and pulling me to him.

  “I loved when you called me that.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders and smile.

  His eyes fall to my lips, and he nods. “I know,” he says. “Your eyes still light up when you see one. I’m glad I was here to witness that.”

  I turn my gaze to the waterfall behind him.

  “When my therapist used the Waterfall Effect to explain my memory loss, he’d just gotten done listening to my story of how quickly I fell in love with nature, waterfalls especially.” I look down sheepishly. “And with you.” I feel a squeeze at my waist. Maybe it won’t come as a surprise to Jaxon that I never stopped loving him, but explaining it all is harder than I could have imagined.

  “I guess that’s why he started telling me about the Waterfall Effect. He thought it was something that would resonate.”

  He pulls me closer and listens intently.

  “He told me my mind was like a waterfall. Unsteady and altering because of everything that happened. Because of the trauma, a part of me was impacted‚ struck so unnaturally it altered the way I see things. My past. My present. Even before he said that, I worried I’d completely lose my grip on reality one day. Like my father did.”

  Jaxon lets out a heavy breath as if he finally understands. “You’re not him, Aurora. Not at all.”

  I can’t help but think of Scott when he says that. Scott, who knew me in my darkest days.

  “What about my panic attacks?”

  Jaxon moves his hand to my cheek, using his thumb to stroke my cheekbone so tenderly. “What about them, babe? They’re normal. Everybody deals with anxiety to some extent, and some have it worse than others. Especially considering what you’ve been through, your panic attacks are justified. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid every now and then.”

  I shake my head, wanting to tell him he doesn’t understand. Nothing has ever been that simple for me. “I’ve seen the statistics, Jaxon. Schizophrenia isn’t something that can be prevented or even predicted. Children of schizophrenics have a ten percent chance of developing the same condition as their parents. And even if I don’t develop my father’s condition exactly, my panic disorder is already a part of me. The odds of it becoming something more terrify me.” I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to anyone. Not even Scott. I shudder. “The reality is, maybe I’m not much different than him.”

  “No, Aurora. You don’t see what I see. Besides, weren’t you always the one that was constantly reminding me that just because a person has schizophrenia doesn’t mean they’re a monster? And you were right.”

  “Was I? I held onto that belief for so long, but look at what happened, Jaxon. Look at what he did.”

  Jaxon tightens his grip on my waist just enough to snap me out of the darkness I find myself falling into. “Yes, Aurora. I believe it. You are not your anxiety. Your father was not his illness. He should have been on medication, and he should have never added alcohol to the mix because it made him even more unpredictable. He lost his shit in front of the entire town. He lost his shit on you. But he never even tried to hang on to reality. He gave up on himself. He gave up on you. It’s important that you understand the difference. You haven’t lost your sense of reality.”

  “Haven’t I, though?” This is where I struggle with all that I lost along with my memory. “Three days was all it took for me to forget who I was.”

  He sighs, shakes his head, and peers into my eyes like he’s found my soul. He speaks straight to it. “Aurora, I hate using the word ‘normal’ because you are not normal in the best way possible, but when it comes to your fears, you are fine. When it comes to the memories you’ve suppressed, that’s what tells me you are far from the evil your father was capable of.”

  I bite the corner of my bottom lip, knowing I should just agree. That I should accept my attacks and stop fearing them. But it’s a fear that’s run through me for years. It plays on a loop in my mind with no end in sight.
Call me stubborn, but I’ve always felt like the attacks were trying to tell me something. Like it wasn’t just a coping mechanism, but a warning.

  “C’mere,” Jaxon says, pulling me to where we can both stand. I let him lead, allowing him to wrap me in his arms.

  He turns me so his front hits my back, and we look up at the climbers, the brave souls making their way to the top of the watery cascade. I smile through my tears. I smile for so many damn reasons. Mostly for the way Jaxon holds me with a strength that promises to never let me go. Never again. But also because I feel like we’re staring up at a reflection of our younger selves.

  A young girl slips, and the boy she’s with reaches out a hand to grab hers. He doesn’t let go until they reach the top.

  It’s funny how love sneaks up on you in the most innocent of moments. How a friendly gesture transforms into something so much more.

  Love snuck up on me.

  And then I was screwed for eternity.

  We visit Sliding Rock next, one of my favorite landscapes. It’s just a long slope of wide rock with a thin stream that flows into the basin. The slippery rock makes for a perfect waterslide. Tourists are already lined up on either side, taking turns sliding down with squeals of delight before diving toes first into the water.

  It’s our turn before we know it. My heart is racing as I grip Jaxon’s hand and sit. We dig our heels into the rock to wait for the water below to clear.

  “One, two, three!” Jaxon calls when it’s our turn, and we push off, sliding down the rock. My smile stretches wide as we descend and plunge into the water.

  “Let’s do it again!” I say, grabbing Jaxon’s hand and pulling him to the edge.

  And we do, not stopping for a breath unless we’re forced to wait in line. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve taken the slide down when Jaxon turns to me with a squeeze of my hand. “You hungry? I was thinking we could check out Looking Glass next and chill for a while.”

  And as if on cue, my stomach rumbles. “Let’s go,” I say with the brightest smile.