When We Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  —

  The wait at the doctor’s office is excruciatingly long, and the slow movement of the clock is exacerbated by the fact that I hate going to doctors. I hate needles in particular.

  Yeah, I realize I have tattoos, but it’s not the same to me. Inking my skin or anyone else’s has a purpose. To me, art is a part of life and the human body is another canvas to display it on.

  For the first time, I try to imagine what kind of tattoo I would give Piper—that is, if she would allow me the honor. Maybe something under her breasts with the showpiece in the center of her chest. She would look gorgeous with flowers and vines curling around her tits and following the contours of her sides. All that virgin skin begging to be inked by me.

  I give myself a mental shake.

  “Piper Ross.”

  Piper jumps to her feet and reaches for me. I stand, taking her small hand in mine. We walk to the back, where they get her vitals before placing us in a room to wait for the doctor.

  “Kinda disappointed you weren’t told to undress and put on one of those paper gowns,” I say with a teasing frown.

  “You would be.” Piper squeezes my hand for a minute and then lets go. “Everything will be okay.”

  “What?”

  “You look a little pale…and green.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Not a fan of doctors.”

  “That’s okay. She doesn’t have to examine you, just me.”

  I tap my medical file against my leg. “Brought my stuff just in case.”

  Piper gazes at me with adoration shining in her pretty eyes. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  Before I can say anything, the door opens and the doctor walks in.

  “Good to see you again, Piper.” The doctor looks at me and holds out her hand. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Stevens.”

  “Jase—Jason Simmons.” We shake hands and do a bit more of small talk before she walks to the counter and washes her hands.

  “Never can be too careful with a patient,” she says by way of explanation.

  Fine with me if she wants to protect Piper from getting someone else’s nasty germs. While she examines Piper and asks questions, I flip through my file without actually reading anything.

  “What are your concerns?” Dr. Stevens says, and I’m back in the conversation.

  “We’re concerned about her attacks when we’re…ah, intimate,” I say.

  The doctor nods. “It’s more common than you think. How bad was the last attack?”

  “Marginally better than the one I had several months ago,” Piper says, and I slice my gaze to her.

  “This was when you moved out of your parents’ house against their wishes, correct?”

  Piper nods. “Yes.”

  Well, that sure as shit would have been nice to know, but when she moved in with my sister, I was still getting my crap together.

  “I’ve never been intimate with anyone before, and I’m worried that my nerves are triggering the attacks,” Piper continues, her cheeks flushing. “Jase is very attentive. He’s helped me through both attacks.”

  “May I read your file?” Dr. Stevens asks as her dark gaze lands on me.

  “Sure.” I hand it to her.

  “Piper informed the nurse you had brought it with you. I have to say that I’m impressed that you went to so much trouble.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  Dr. Stevens eyes me over the open file. “Not many men do. Or women, for that matter. Regular testing. Very good.” She finishes reading through the paperwork and hands it back to me. “First thing, you need to quit smoking.”

  “Done.”

  Piper’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  Dr. Stevens starts talking again. “Second, Piper, you need to do breathing treatments before the two of you engage in sexual activities. I understand that doing so puts a bit of a damper on spontaneity, but until you can get this under control…if you can get this under control, preventative measures must be taken.”

  “Not a problem.” I look straight at Piper. “Swear it’s not. I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

  Piper’s look of relief touches a part of my heart that I didn’t know existed anymore.

  “He did some research about asthma and helped me with my inhaler both times I had an attack,” Piper says, pride so obvious in her voice that I feel my cheeks heat. She makes me sound so…good.

  “Your place of residence—how old is it and is it possible that mold could be a problem?”

  “House was built in the early 1900s. Lots of hidden passageways.” I give Piper a meaningful look. “She had her first attack after being in one.”

  “Stay out of those,” Dr. Stevens says. “Dust aggravates asthma. Honestly, the entire house could be what’s aggravating your asthma.”

  “Does that mean I have to move out?” Piper asks, a frown on her lips.

  “No,” I practically shout. Piper and Dr. Stevens both look at me. “What I mean is that we’ll find a way to get out all that dust. I had a portion of the house completely renovated a couple of months back, so maybe she can move in there?”

  “You can certainly give it a try, but if things get worse, or if they don’t improve”—Dr. Stevens turns her attention back to Piper—“you’ll need to seriously consider moving out. As your doctor, I recommend it.”

  Piper and Dr. Stevens talk more in depth about managing asthma, about breathing treatments and exercise as well as her diet. The more they talk, the more I worry about Piper. I never knew that her asthma is so bad that she has to do breathing treatments twice a month.

  Once she’s finished with her appointment, we walk to her car. I have my arm around her waist, holding her snug against me. When we get to her BMW, I’m reluctant to let her go, so I wrap both arms around her.

  “That was a lot to take in, wasn’t it?” she asks. “I guess a huge commitment, huh?” The uncertainty in her tone is a straight punch to the gut. She’s scared I’m going to bail on her.

  “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be,” I remind her. “And what would it say about me as a man if I couldn’t handle taking care of my woman?”

  An elegant brow arches. “Your woman?”

  “Yeah,” I say roughly, and I kiss her lips softly.

  “Well, then that makes you my man. Is there anything I can do for you? I feel like this relationship is becoming extremely one-sided.”

  “You keep doing you—that’s more than I could ever ask for.”

  She shakes her head, a shy smile on her plump lips. “When you say stuff like that, it makes me feel…wanted. I’ve never felt that way before.”

  Fuck her parents. Fuck mine, too. Abandonment doesn’t give a damn about your socioeconomic status. “I want you very bad. In fact, how about we go home and do a little breathing treatment? I don’t have to be to work until—”

  My phone rings. It’s Emmett’s ring tone. He knew not to call or text me while I was at Piper’s appointment, so it has to be an emergency. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glance at the screen.

  Emmett: We are slammed, dude. Need to hire another artist.

  Me: Do you need me to come in?

  Emmett: No. I want you to keep playing hide the pickle with Piper while customers get pissed off and leave.

  Me: Be there in fifteen minutes.

  “You need to go, don’t you?” Piper says.

  “Emmett will cry if I don’t.”

  She laughs. “Can’t have that. I have to pick up my prescription anyway. Dr. Stevens upped the dosage to see if that helps.”

  “I can tell Emmett no. Let him sweat it out a bit.” Though he does have a point about hiring another artist. We need someone who can do piercings, too.

  Piper gives me a playful push. “Go to work. I’ll be there soon.”

  “And tonight?” It’s her choice about the next step we take, but my body is practically vibrating with need. Has been for weeks. Months. Years.

/>   She lowers her gaze, then peers up at me through her dark lashes. “I want to be with you, but I’m nervous.”

  “Roller-coast ride, remember?”

  “I know…it’s not the ride I’m afraid of, it’s my reaction to it.”

  The wind stirs, gently lifting her dark hair that’s around her face. Sun shines on us in the parking lot. White, puffy clouds float in an endless blue sky. The day is almost as beautiful as she is. Funny how I never noticed the beauty of a day until I was relegated to only seeing an hour of it each day. Now I stop to admire it.

  “If you want to wait, we’ll wait.” I have my entire life for a woman like her. What’s a few more days or weeks?

  “I have to work tonight anyway, since I switched my hours at the center to go to this appointment.”

  “How late?”

  “Ten or eleven p.m.”

  My phone starts ringing again, and I know it’s Emmett, but it bothers me for her to be out so late. “I know you can’t give me the address, but can you at least assure me that the location isn’t as bad as when you worked at Head’s Up?”

  She nods. “I’m safe.”

  A part of me wants to follow her to work one day, but that would betray her trust. I can’t have that. No matter how much I want to keep her safe, I want her to trust me even more.

  “Good. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe you can text me when you get to work and right before you leave?”

  “That I can do.” Her gaze lifts to mine. Her pretty eyes are shiny. “Thank you, Jase…for everything.”

  I have no idea what to say to her in that moment, so I do what I do best and kiss her with everything I feel for her.

  Chapter 10

  Jase

  “If you weren’t my friend, I’d beat your ass for blocking me,” I growl, slinging my helmet into my booth. “Be glad that Piper didn’t see your insulting-as-fuck text.”

  “So sorry that running a business interferes with your sex life,” Emmett deadpans.

  I have to laugh at that. His humor is one of the reasons I keep him around. “Fair enough. Where do you need me?”

  “Sign some checks and get Piper’s name added to the account at the bank. They need your permission so it will be legal and shit.”

  “That’s a first.”

  Emmett strides to me, one of his familiar shit-eating grins on his face. “By the way, you’ll never guess who’s back in town.”

  “You’re right, I won’t, because I don’t keep up on the latest gossip.”

  My buddy winces. “Yeah, I keep forgetting you haven’t been out that long.”

  Isn’t that nice for him? I don’t have that luxury. “So who’s back in town?”

  “Hunter Sloan.”

  “Now you’re just fucking with me,” I say, punching Emmett in the shoulder.

  Growing up, I idolized Hunter Sloan. A couple of years older than me, he fought in an underground fighting ring, starting when he was only fifteen. Even back then, he was big for his age—solid as fuck and could throw a mean left hook. I knew he learned how to fight dirty because his old man used to beat the shit out of him and his mom, and he had to find a way to defend himself.

  Then one day out of the blue, his old man ups and leaves town. Pretty fucking sure Hunter had something to do with it. A year after that, Hunter and his mom left town, too. Six months after that I went to jail. Never heard from him again.

  “Best part,” Emmett begins with a grin and shake of his head, “you won’t fucking believe what he does now.”

  “Hit me.” Was he in the NFL, professional MMA fighter, WWE? My mind sorts through all the possible occupations a badass like Hunter can have now.

  “A cop.”

  “He’s a fucking cop?” That’s a first. I don’t know of anyone who grew up around here who became a cop. Might as well draw a target on your back and wait for the arrows.

  “Oh, yeah, and I heard he’s looking for a place on this side of town.”

  “Death wish,” I mutter. I can’t believe Hunter is a cop.

  “Bro, I hate to break it to you, but the neighborhood is changing, like for the good. Haven’t you noticed all the revitalization projects?”

  “Not really.” Actually, I have noticed. Hell, the guy who worked on my place kept harping on all the houses with craftsman-style bones on my street. He was practically giddy over it.

  “Maybe you should try to get out more.”

  I shrug and head to our shared office. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Where’s your girl?”

  “She’ll be here in a few. Had to go to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription.”

  “Thought I was blocking you,” Emmett quips.

  “Shut up.”

  Emmett blows me a kiss. “Love you, too.”

  An hour later, Piper blows through the front door. Quite a few heads turn to look at her as she flashes a smile and heads to the office. I can’t blame them—her conservative, lavender twinset and gray pencil skirt with those purple heels she’s wearing is a total turn-on. Yeah, I know colors and clothes, and I’m not ashamed of it, either. As an artist it’s my job to know colors. As for the other, women appreciate it when a man knows what they’re wearing.

  I watch as Piper walks down the hallway, her curvy hips swaying, tempting me to follow her and find out what she’s wearing underneath her skirt.

  It’s not that I’m not appreciative of more revealing clothes on a woman; it’s the way Piper wears her clothes. They fit her like they were tailor-made for her body, which in her case might be entirely true. She certainly could afford it before she moved out of her parents’ house.

  “Like a beautifully wrapped gift,” my client says, and I glance at him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That woman you were eye-fucking.” He smiles and winks at his boyfriend sitting across from him in my booth. “You know what I’m talking about, huh?”

  The boyfriend rolls his eyes, then shakes his head. “Francis is referring to how exquisitely she’s dressed. She’s like a classic car that they don’t make anymore.”

  I nod. “That comparison I totally get.”

  “Hope you take her out for more than just a Sunday drive,” my client says with a chuckle.

  I go back to inking his bicep. I’m correcting a piece that was done by some crap artist in upstate Virginia. “I take her out as often as she wants, but she likes to stay home with me.”

  “Parents don’t approve?”

  I smirk a little. “Parents would lose their ever-loving minds.”

  The boyfriend sighs. “Forbidden love.”

  “Something like that,” I agree, then get back to work. Piper’s parents would do more than lose their ever-loving minds. I’m pretty sure that her dad will find a reason to arrest me when he does find out about us.

  But I’m not going to let that stop me from being with her.

  Piper

  The women’s shelter is quiet tonight. It’s also full, which means I won’t have to check anyone in tonight.

  I hear a door open and close. My heart pounds in my chest.

  Standing up, I walk to the doorway of my office and peer out. “Hello?”

  No one answers me. Why would they? And, I remind myself that the night watchman, a woman, is patrolling the house.

  As I turn around, there’s a light knock on my door and I almost jump out of my skin. “God bless America,” I scream.

  “My sister used to say that a lot. I don’t think she meant for God to bless anything.”

  A woman cautiously steps into my office, but I barely recognize her. The swelling has gone down on her face, so her eye can open, but it’s shot through with blood and her lip is still split. Her cheeks are puffy, while the bruises around her neck have faded slightly.

  “Evangeline?” I whisper.

  She nods. “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.” Evangeline holds herself so still, too still. “I can come back another time.”

  “No. I’m glad—happy to se
e you again,” I say, then start gesturing at the chair. “Want to have a seat? I can make you some tea or coffee. Whatever you want.”

  Evangeline inches forward and scoots to the left, leaning against the wall. “I only want to talk.”

  “Sure.” I have no idea what the procedure is for this and I begin to panic. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I trigger a flashback or…what if I’m breaking the rules by having her in my office in the first place? “About w-what?”

  Her good eye narrows at me. “How long do I have to stay here?”

  “Y-you want to go?” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “I d-don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Ginger keeps saying that, but I thought I had a choice.”

  I nod emphatically. “You do. You really do.”

  She glances away, her arm coming up to her face. “I haven’t looked in a mirror. I’m too scared of what I might see. That’s really stupid, huh?”

  “No. They’re your feelings and they’re important, not stupid.”

  Evangeline shakes her head and looks at me, tears running down her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure it’s stupid. He almost killed me and I fought him back with every bit of strength I had inside, but all I can think about now is if I’m still pretty or not,” she says tearfully, and my heart feels like it’s going to break for her.

  Unsure if I should comfort her emotionally or physically, I take a step toward her, then stop. “It’s okay to feel bad, but it’s not your fault. You’re allowed to be mad, sad, angry…to miss him, to hate him, to love him…no matter what anyone else thinks.”

  Evangeline wipes the tears away. “Everyone thinks he’s such a great guy, you know. No one believed me when I tried to tell them. I think if he finds out where I am, he’ll kill me this time.”

  My heart stutters. “That’s why you should stay here for as long as you can.” Her file indicated that her ex-husband, a decorated officer in the Army who had recently gotten out, doesn’t know she’s in this town and the police haven’t found him yet. Evangeline walked to Charlotte from some tiny town in South Carolina. That’s why the police had found her wandering on the beltway.