Hard to Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  While I move to the front door, I group-text Evangeline and Hunter to let them know Saylor’s situation. Normally, I loathe group texts, but in this case, even I would make an exception.

  Locking her door from the inside, I shut it tight and frown. There’s no way I can engage the dead bolt.

  I hear pounding on the stairs.

  “I have a spare key,” Hunter says, pulling it from his pocket. He unlocks the door and checks the place out, but before he can go into her bedroom, I grab his arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Something you’re trying to hide from me?” he asks.

  “No. Saylor’s not dressed and I doubt either of you want to see her that way.”

  He scowls at me. “Did you—”

  My jaw works. “I put her to bed. She was the one to strip. Nothing happened.”

  Evangeline appears out of nowhere. “I’ll check on her.”

  I step to one side, equally annoyed and impressed that Saylor has friends who would go to such lengths to make sure she’s okay. “Be my guest.”

  I wait with Hunter.

  “Nothing personal,” he says.

  “I’m not offended.”

  “Wouldn’t care if you were,” he says.

  “But I also wouldn’t take advantage of her.”

  He exhales. “I know it, brother, but the shit I’ve seen. Makes you question everyone and everything.”

  I don’t envy him, not even when I have to help carry dead bodies burned beyond recognition on a gurney. Not even when I find the most helpless among us dead of smoke inhalation.

  Fire and smoke kill without preference to race or gender, without regard to religion or sexual orientation. It’s an equal opportunity killer, even when it’s arson.

  Nine times out of ten, the fires I deal with are accidents.

  The tenth ones are when guys like Hunter have to step in, have to deal with the bottom of the barrel. I feel for cops, at the bad rap they all seem to be getting because of a few assholes who garnered the media’s attention.

  At least people like to see me coming. Kids get excited about the sirens and lights when we pull into a neighborhood.

  Finally, Evangeline joins us, a smile on her face. “She’s fine. A little dizzy and sick.” She turns her attention to Hunter. “Would you be upset with me if I spent the night with her?”

  He makes a face.

  Evangeline shoves at his shoulder.

  A grin replaces his scowl. “Do what you need to, but lock the dead bolt after I shut the door.”

  She gives him a smart salute. “Yes, sir, Captain, sir.”

  “That would be me,” I point out.

  “Oh no. My captain is right here.” She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses Hunter. He grabs her ass and I look away out of respect for both of them, then head for the door again. On my way out, I notice that despite all the Star Wars and Star Trek conversations, Saylor’s apartment is strangely bereft of any paraphernalia.

  The door swings shut behind me and I hear the lock click into place. Hunter tries it, then calls out to Evangeline. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Night.”

  “Shouldn’t you be going home?” he asks, turning his attention to me.

  “I was hoping you’d invite me over to spend the night. We could do each other’s hair. Talk about all the girls we’ve—”

  “Shut up,” he orders and I smirk, hitting the stairs so I can leave.

  “Thanks for stopping by, Peaches.” There’s nothing more I like to do than give him a hard time. Hunter is like a brother to me, and because I miss my brothers so much, I tend to focus on giving him hell.

  “I got your peaches.” Flipping me off, he jogs down the stairs after me, pushing me through the door. “Be ready for me to kick your ass in two days.”

  “You wish you could kick my ass,” I reply, getting the last word in before I climb inside my Escalade.

  I smile on the way home, thinking of all the times my brothers and I fought like hell. Not even a six-year age difference stopped us from pummeling one another.

  Except when they were younger and small for their age, and I had to kick some ass in order for a trio of bullies to leave them alone.

  When the trio tried to jump me as soon as my back was turned, my little brothers sprang into action, whaling on them with moves they’d learned in karate class…the same moves they’d promised to never use on one another or me.

  It’s a habit, I guess, encouraged by our parents.

  Strangely enough, unlike other kids we knew who grew up like us, our parents never pitted us against one another. We were constantly told how much family means, how none of us would ever have another brother, or brothers in my case as the oldest, like we did.

  Most of the time, I’d laugh it off and the twins would copy me. Then the senator would take us in the backyard and we’d play football or baseball, running around like lunatics while our momma would cheer us on.

  Back then, I didn’t refer to Bishop Hayden Walker as the senator.

  He was just…my dad.

  Chapter 10

  Saylor

  “He was so sweet, Saylor, putting you to bed and putting up with Hunter’s overprotectiveness,” Evangeline says as I give our newest guest a bath. The little doggie is malnourished and full of ticks, which I’m lucky enough to pull off one by one while Eva disposes of them.

  And by lucky, I mean so gross that I can’t stop gagging unless I start mouth breathing like an actor in Twilight.

  “If he was so sweet, then why hasn’t he called me in two days?”

  “Because he’s pulling a thirty-six-hour shift while they’re training for level-one emergencies.”

  I gape at her. “How do you know that?” Why don’t I know that?

  “Because Hayden and Hunter have finally realized that they are meant to be one.”

  “What about Dwight?”

  Evangeline sighs thickly. “He got a job offer he couldn’t turn down. So he moved out to Montana to be police chief.”

  “Hunter is taking it hard, huh?”

  “Pretty sure he cried himself to sleep the other night.” She snorts. “Seriously, he misses Dwight, but I think Hayden could be good for him, too. Make sure he has fun—guy fun—because I supply the other kind.”

  “Gosh, it’s like we’re discussing kids.”

  “My mother always said a man’s just a boy with some years on him.”

  I grab the last tick with the tweezers and drop it into the plastic bowl Eva’s holding. “My mother always said a man is just something to do between takes.”

  She blinks at me. “She did?”

  My face heats and I shrug off her question, wishing I hadn’t said a word about my mom. While I think Evangeline isn’t the type to judge harshly, I don’t want my friends to think poorly of the woman who did her best to raise me.

  Evangeline puts the lid on the bowl and leaves to properly dispose of it.

  “Feel better, don’t you,” I croon to the dog.

  His tail wags weakly in response, warming my heart. This is why I take care of animals no one else wants. The ones who are abandoned, forgotten, and sometimes abused. No living creature deserves that kind of treatment, especially the most vulnerable.

  “Don’t you worry. You’ll be right as a ninety-degree angle in no time.” I would have said rain, but this puppy isn’t a fan of water as it is, so there’s no need to scare him even more.

  “What did you mean by ‘between takes’?” Eva asks as soon as I return, and I inwardly groan because I know she won’t stop until she gets answers.

  The old Evangeline, the one I first met who’d been brutalized and abused by her husband, wouldn’t have pressed because she was too timid and didn’t want to rock the boat. This Evangeline is tenacious and captains her own vessel.

  I love her either way, but the new, confident her is extremely badass.

  “Photo shoots and movie scenes.” I scrub behind the little co
cker spaniel’s ears and he starts to relax. “She’s…famous, like your brother-in-law.”

  “You never talk about her.”

  “There’s not much to say.”

  “Because you don’t want people to know you’re her daughter or because you don’t want people to treat you differently?”

  “A little of both. She’s a good mom. A great mom…I know she loves me. That’s not the issue.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “Oh, I see him all the time.” Even when I’d rather not. I smile brightly before rinsing off the slightly shivering dog. “Is the water too cool for you now?”

  Evangeline lightly touches me, the contact brief. “If you ever want to talk or ever want someone to listen to you about your family, I’m here. With chocolate and without judgment.”

  “I know,” I say softly before changing the subject. “We need to think of a name for this fella.” I rub him behind his ears again, this time just because I know it feels good to him. “Under all that dirt, you really are quite dashing. That’s it!”

  “Uh, what’s it?” Evangeline grabs a towel and joins me at the tub.

  “His name. It’s Sir Dashing.” I swear Sir Dashing sits up a little straighter. He licks my hand and I sigh. “Sweet thing.”

  “Totally fits him.” She smiles as she wraps Sir Dashing in the soft fabric. “If you’ll clean up, I’ll dry him off, feed him, and introduce him to his new neighbors.”

  Grateful that she didn’t push for more information this time, I nod and heft the tub outside, reusing the water on the flower beds. Since everything we use is chemical free and completely natural, it won’t hurt the nonpoisonous plants and trees that provide shade during the summer during playtime.

  By the time I’m done cleaning up the mess I made in the bathing room, I’m perspiring like crazy.

  I walk to the front offices, sticking my head in the second one to speak to Leslie. “Make sure the a/c stays at a comfortable temperature. This heat wave is killer.”

  “Got it, boss.” Leslie glances at her screen for a moment before giving me one of her patented mothering looks. “Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

  “No…but it was an hour ago.”

  She shakes her head. “Get out of here. We got this.”

  “I know, I know,” I say, moving to stand under an air duct. “Just not looking forward to getting in my Jeep. My last sunshield blew away and I haven’t had a chance to replace it. It’s going to be so hot.”

  “Put the top down and the radio on,” she suggests. “Oh, and make sure to pull your shorts down far enough so your legs don’t burn on the seats.”

  My shorts are so long that they almost reach my knees. Honestly, I don’t care about length, but the Bermuda style works best at the shelter.

  “See you tomorrow.” With a sigh, I move away from the cold air.

  “Nope. See me next week.”

  “You have the weekend off?”

  She tilts her head to one side. “No, you do because you have family coming to town.”

  Oh crap. I forgot about my mom coming this weekend. It’s totally Hayden’s fault for not calling me. “Thanks for the reminder,” I call out as I jog to the front door.

  Heat blasts me from all sides. It feels like I’m in an Easy-Bake Oven with the lightbulb directly on my head.

  I almost turn around to remind Leslie not to schedule any afternoon outdoor activities, but then I stop myself. I hired competent people to work for me, and I’m a competent boss who trusts them to do their job.

  Leslie and her husband, Lucius, are professionals. Leslie has a degree in animal husbandry and Lucius has a legit degree from St. Augustine’s School of Veterinary Medicine. However, he’s unable to practice here on his own until he has five years of experience in the United States, which is why I hired him. The two of them have forgotten more than I can ever know about animals.

  As I get closer to my Jeep, I notice something dark covering the windshield. “What in the world?” I mutter as I carefully move to the front. I swear, if it’s a bunch of political advertisements with my dad’s face on them, I’ll scream.

  In my head, anyway.

  There are forever families about in the parking lot, with their newest members, and I don’t think it would leave them with the best impression should I throw a hissy fit over an ad.

  I sigh, bracing myself, and find—“Holy Mother of—”

  The cast of Star Wars: The Force Awakens standing at the helm of the Millennium Falcon stares back at me. I squeal in excitement and do a little dance right then and there, uncaring who sees me.

  Man, I work with really thoughtful people. All that talk of putting down my roof and worry about seat burns.

  A note is stuck under a windshield wiper. I lift the wiper up and grab the paper, fully expecting something silly from the gang at the shelter.

  Saylor,

  Hot cars aren’t good for humans, either.

  Sorry I haven’t called, but work has taken up all my time except for eating and sometimes sleeping. Please accept this as my official apology.

  Take care, sunshine, and I’ll text you later, after I get some shut-eye.

  Hayden Walker

  P.S. I added my last name in case you might be tempted to confuse me with your friend who cosplays.

  This man can’t be real. He just can’t.

  Except he is real and he apologized and he listened to me about cosplaying.

  For no reason at all, I feel like crying. A lump forms in my throat and my nose gets all stuffy. I look around in the parking lot, hoping to see his black SUV.

  My heart sinks when I don’t find it anywhere.

  I read his note again and again, taking in the sweetness of his gesture and letting it truly sink into my head. No man has ever treated me like this, been so considerate and caring.

  He didn’t have to. He could have kept right on doing his own thing after our disaster of a sorta date night. Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster after all.

  With a goofy grin affixed to my face, I get in my Jeep, put his note in my purse, and carefully fold the sunshield. I hug it to my chest before placing it lengthwise along the backseat.

  “Best afternoon ever,” I whisper before driving home.

  —

  My mom stands by the window, one hand pulling back the curtains, and Padme rubs against her ankles as I walk inside my apartment. The sun’s rays cast her in a golden light, making her look like a goddess who wears the latest fashion as she ogles the guys playing shirtless basketball on the court.

  “Great view, Saylor baby.”

  “You’re early!” is all I can say in return.

  “Saylor Dean Reynolds, is that any way to talk to me?” she says as she pretends to lecture me. She turns toward me, and the full effect of just how striking she is hits me. She’s like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Christie Brinkley. The all-American girl with a healthy appetite for men. “Take two, Miss Dean.”

  I use my middle name as my last name to help maintain my privacy. Sure, if someone really wanted to find me and take pictures, they could, but they haven’t so far.

  With a playful roll of my eyes, I walk out of my apartment and back in again.

  “Mom!” I rush over to hug her, tossing my purse in the direction of my sofa along the way.

  “Kiddo!” Letting go of the curtain, she smiles brightly and spreads her arms wide. I go right into them, just like I always do when I haven’t seen her in months. “Missed you. Also, much better.”

  “Oof,” I grunt. My mom is a notoriously hard hugger. She basically squeezes the air out of you. “Missed you, too.”

  She pulls away slightly and shakes her head as she inspects me from head to toe. “Just look at you. More and more gorgeous every time I see you.”

  I blush, then do what every adult does when in the presence of their parents—I turn into a kid. “I’m just me.”

  “ ‘Just me’ is a knockout.” She grabs my wrist and leads
me to the sofa. “I’ve already poured two glasses of wine. Let’s catch up.”

  We sit down, even though I desperately want a shower, but I don’t get much time with her. Actually, I never know how much time I’ll get with her. My mom’s visits are rather sporadic and can last from one hour to an entire weekend, depending on her schedule.

  “Such a sweet kitty,” my mom croons as Padme jumps into her lap and flops down.

  Padme rolls to her back and stretches, eating up the attention.

  “You’re such a sucker. How many times have I told you that you don’t have to hold her.”

  “Took my allergy meds, so I’ll be fine.” Reaching over Padme, she gracefully picks up the two glasses of wine and hands one to me. “So what’s new with you?” she asks as I take a sip.

  “Nothing, really.”

  One of her perfectly manicured brows arches. “That sounds like something, really.”

  I sigh. “I met a guy.”

  She perks up. “Oh. What does he do?”

  “Firefighter. I think he’s in charge of his firehouse or station—whatever it’s called. Their cook makes the best hot wings.”

  “What about his family?”

  “No idea. I don’t know him that well, and you know how I feel about Googling people.”

  She smiles at me. “I don’t know if I could restrain myself like you do. Besides, you’re an adult now, not a child. I don’t worry about what you’ll find.”

  My mother might not, but I do. I have no desire to read articles that either call my mother a whore or derail her as a former feminist who’s sold out to the patriarchy in their headlines.

  “After a while you get used to it.”

  Social media in general, with the exception of a website, a Facebook page, and a Snapchat account dedicated to the animal shelter, is off-limits for me, or it was until I turned eighteen, mostly because my mom didn’t want me to read gossip about her…or me.

  Now I self-regulate.

  I glance at the two Louis Vuitton suitcases stacked up in the corner, signaling that this visit will be short. “How’s the new movie going?”

  “It’s wonderful! Who knew a period piece could be so much fun,” my momma says with a wink. “Perhaps, after the movie is out, the critics will start taking me seriously.”