Dedication
For my Grammy:
For always showing me that hard work and dedication can get me anywhere in life
For my Mema:
For always reminding me that I’m worth it
Praiser For
Falling Back Together
“When it comes to the Crashing Series, Mazzola doesn’t disappoint! You will fall in love with Mags and Walker, and you will fight for their love until the very last word. Moving, breathtaking, and so real, Crashing Back Down and Falling Back Together are two MUST READS!”
- Brittainy C. Cherry, Author of Loving Mr. Daniels
"Falling Back Together mends our broken hearts and picks up the pieces from where Crashing Back Down left off. Kristen Hope Mazzola's books are truly a treasure to behold. A+"
- The Literary Connoisseur
"Falling Back Together is emotionally intense and it's incredibly unforgettable! Every character is extremely likable and they'll keep you 100% hooked to the story clear up to the very last page."
- Jamie Roberts, Author of Accidental Love
"Falling Back Together is an action-packed tale of love, loss, forgiveness, and ultimately redemption. My heart twisted right along with Mags and Walker’s as they fought for their happy ever after. A sweet and sexy new adult story that reminds us that the heart doesn’t listen to reason and even the worst transgressions are forgivable."
- Jenni Moen, Author of The Joy Series
Prologue:
Walker
Red Georgia clay turned into gravel of a familiar road as it crunched under the tires of my beat-up Ford pickup. The night air was speckled with stars blanketing the rolling hills of my family’s damned homestead. I never thought I’d come back here. As I off the gas and gently pressed the brake in, my vehicle came to rest just about a mile away from their double-wide trailer. I started to feel the panic settle into my chest again. I knew that leaving her had been the wrong move, but I’d had no other options. Fucking chicken-shit.
Slamming my palms onto the steering wheel, I let out a load, broken scream. My skin burned from the scratches and bites, my eyes burned from the tears, and my throat burned from the pleading. All I wanted was to turn around. Run back. Turn back time. Explain. Love her. The sight of rage on her face was enough to keep me put—staring down the life I never wanted to return to, like a damn loaded gun pressed right down the throat of my sanity. She hated me, and I’d known it right when I saw that journal gripped in her beautiful fingers. I’d crushed her with all the words I’d been too scared to let leave those pages. How else was she supposed to freaking act? This was for the best. Being out of Margret McManus’s life for good was something that needed to happen. Not for my sake, but for hers. I’d destroyed her. The one person I truly loved and who truly loved me back… Her pain was completely my fault.
There are only so many lines a guy could cross without tempting fate, and I wasn’t the kind of man to play with that kind of fire. Mags was Randy's and I was gonna have to deal with that in my own way. Here goes nothing. It’s time to pull this trigger.
The last mile down the road was the hardest. Memories flashed of the torture, beatings, name calling, drug binges. I fucking hate this place. I pulled up next to my stepdad’s and brother’s trucks, turned off the engine, and hopped out. It was like ripping off a damn bandage that was twenty years old and the wound was still not healed, oozing and festering with years of hate soiling the edges.
I could hear Mom’s screeching and cackling from the front porch and the distinct sound of a shotgun cocking. “It’s Walker,” I called through the shut door. “Chet, put the freaking gun away. If you shoot me, so help me God, I will kill you.”
The trailer door swung open to reveal my fat, graying, toothless mother, who smelled like she had forgotten to bathe again—this time, for weeks. I was just glad to see that the lights were still on. Tears filled her eyes as her face twisted into a semi-smile. I knew that was the best she could do. Her faded pink shirt had the hugest ever-loving pit stains, and damn her for going in for a hug. As I hesitated, I could hear my punk-ass little brother, fresh out of the pen, hissing his awful laugh in the background. After holding in my breath, scared the weeklong stench of sweat and body odor emanating from my deadbeat mother was going to make me pass out, I walked into the double-wide’s poor excuse for a living room.
The same faded green carpet lay limp and patchy on the creaking floor, trapped under the old red-blue plaid couch Dad got at Goodwill a few weeks before he’d decided enough was enough. My heart ached for the ten-year-old me, crying in that very spot for him to come back. Mags has no idea how much we are alike, how much our baggage matches.
Chet, my miserable, old, shit-for-brains stepfather shoved off from leaning against the entertainment center and made his way over to attempt a handshake. He was so loaded that he missed my hand, jabbing me right in the ribs. His eyes were slits as he slurred, “What the fuck do you want?”
“Nice to see you too, Chet. Thought I’d come home to visit and check on the station. That’s all.” I rubbed the back of my neck, knowing they could smell the bullshit on my breath. “It’s been a while since I made sure everything was all right up this way.”
My cell buzzed in my pocket. Digging it out, I saw Buck’s goofy-ass grin light up on my screen. I ignored it and turned the damn thing off. There was no way I was ready to face that music yet. Looking around at the six eyes glaring at me, I knew that this was not my smartest of moves.
“So how the hell have y’all been?”
Silas’s bloodshot eyes and sweating brow told way too much about the amount of meth pumping through my little brother’s system. He hawked his load of dip out from his lower lip and took a swig of his beer, sneering at me. “Big-time war hero forgets about his roots then stumbles back up the mountain on a whim. Somethin’ ain’t sittin’ right with that, brother, so why don’t you enlighten us as to why you really came on home?”
There was something about my slimeball for a brother that irked me, just like the rest of the people in the room. So I turned on the heels of my boots and made my way for the door. He was right; this shit didn’t add up in my head either. Unfortunately, my wide mother took up the entire doorway. She had her feet planted firmly and her arms crossed over her chest.
“Walker Cameron Eastman, you go sit on the couch next to your daddy and have a visit with yer momma. Don’t mind Silas. He just missed you is all and has a funny way of showin’ it.” She glared at her youngest with laser beams that would kill, given the chance.
My eyes narrowed and my jawline hardened as I spoke through gritted, grinding teeth. “That man ain’t my father just as much as y’all ain’t my family. Blood don’t mean shit when it all hits the fan.” I stood toe-to-toe with the densest person on the planet. I knew she couldn’t understand why I hated her—and the rest of them, for that matter—but I had figured it out a long time ago. She enjoyed getting under my skin. And damn her for being so fucking good at it.
“Go wash up. Supper will be done in a minute. At least have a meal with us.”
I let my head hang as I walked into the back hallway to escape into the bathroom, like I had done countless times in my youth. Being with the scum of my past was awful, but nothing would compare to the feeling of hurting Mags again. I knew that this was my fate and all I deserved for everything I’d put my North through.
As I made my way back into the living room, the sound of Chet’s snoring rang out over the Bulldogs’ announcers blaring through the television speakers. I slumped down in a chair at the dining table, staring blankly as little blurring purple and red dots jetted across the screen.
“Man, y’all need a new TV.”
Si
las snickered from the chair next to me as he shoved up. He made his way into the kitchen and dove in the fridge to get another Bud. He raised an eyebrow, asking if I wanted one.
“Yup. I’m here. Might as well.”
One
Slowly opening my eyes, I was reminded of where I was. The bright white lights of my hospital room flooded in, giving me an instant headache, and then all the memories assaulted me. All the emotions that had piled on from the last couple of days pushed on my chest and I gasped for air. There was no good way to think about my situation, no good outcome that I could see—nothing left other than heartbreak.
My fight with Walker replayed over and over in my head. His hands holding me down flashed into my mind. My screams and his pleading, trembling voice. Then I remembered why we’d fought and I felt like I had just been kicked in the stomach. As I lay in this terribly uncomfortable hospital bed in paper pajamas, barely able to stand the burning in my throat, tears stung my eyes and the realization of my situation crushed me.
Reading the words Walker had scribbled in his journal started to haunt me. No matter how hard I tried, the words would not leave my vision. How will I ever look into her eyes again? She loves him, not me, and that’s how it was supposed to be. Fuck! Why did he have to grab my chute? My chest started heaving, my eyes became blurry, and I felt like I was going to faint. I could barely pass air into my lungs, and an annoying beeping started to sound in my ear.
Rushed steps barreled down the hall and into my room. Cold hands were on my wrist within seconds, as an unknown, kind voice spoke softly, “Margret, please calm down and just breathe. You’re all right now.” She continued with soft shushing noises while I panicked and gasped, tears streaming down my cheeks and neck.
Eventually, I gained control, forcing myself to calm down. I started to feel a little loopy, and I could only guess that the kind nurse had spiked my IV to help me regain some form of control. She walked away, needle in hand, a soft expression of pure pity lying heavy on her tired eyes as she glanced back at me before exiting the room. Pity was the worst; I hated pity—a look that has become all too familiar over the last year.
Sleep quickly fell over me as the medicine started to really kick in, and I was thankful for the brief peace. Unfortunately, my dreams were battered by gruesome images of Walker with bloody hands, Randy’s lifeless body covered in blood and mutilated from his horrific fall, and Candice Davenport’s cold eyes staring at me while I rocked her body in my arms after she’d been brutally murdered.
The past year had just been filled with terrible memories and heartache. I was tired of being haunted and feeling sad, lonely, mad, childish, guilty, and everything else that came with my terrible grief. I wanted to start living, but there was no way up for air that I could find.
The sunlight flooded in through my cracked blinds to my room. I could hear Cali and my mother talking in the hallway. I sat up and stretched for the first time since my arrival in the hospital. I had no idea how long I had been here after my panic attack from my fight with Walker that had landed me in this bed.
I tried to call out to them, but my throat was too dry and I could only muster a few coughs. Thankfully, that was enough and Cali flew to my side, my mother just a few steps behind.
“Oh, Mags! It’s so good to see you up!” My best friend beamed down at me, gripping the bedrail to the point of her knuckles turning white. I could see that she had been crying, which sent shooting pains through my heart. Even with her marriage falling apart, Cali was here, taking care of me, and yet again putting her life on the back burner.
My mom was able to talk the doctor into signing my release forms earlier than he had intended. It was so nice to be out of that terrible bed and on my way home. Even though the bile kept creeping up in my throat as the miles zoomed by my window, I knew I had to face reality again sooner or later.
Cali sat in the back seat with me, clutching my hand tightly in hers, as my mom drove the Mercedes back to my house. Cali’s voice shook as she tried to explain what my memory lacked. “Well, Walker called me. He said that you were having a terrible panic attack and that I needed to get to the hospital. Once I got there and asked where you were, a nurse came to me and handed me your keys. Apparently, Walker left them with her and then was gone. No explanation or anything.”
“I just don’t understand.” Defeat and abandonment rushed in, adding to the hurt and betrayal that had already settled deep down.
All of the disorder started to swirl, clouding my thoughts. My heart kept betraying me by longing for Walker, to know that he was all right, and to finally get answers. My head was on a different page, cursing him every time his sweet smile came into view, and damn my heart for ever believing that I was his true north. How the fuck could he just leave me like that if he actually loved me?
The last words Walker had spoken to me right before I blacked out repeated a thousand times over. He actually told me he loved me! Tears burned my eyes, and without asking, Cali just nodded and scooted closer to me, wrapping her arms tight around my waist. She rocked slowly, telling me that she loved me, that I was safe again. Tears broke free from burning the backs of my eyes as I sobbed into her comforting shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Mags. He’s long gone.” Cali’s voice was sweet and calm.
I started to bawl harder in her arms, realizing how much of a mess I was and thankful that she and my mom loved me unconditionally.
Finally, my voice broke free, barely audible. “Thank you. I love you.” Even though they were soft and shaky, they boomed in the thickness of the air.
Both Cali and my mom let a few tears fall as we pulled into my driveway. A sudden sorrow blanketed me when I realized that I would probably never see Walker’s truck in its spot ever again, and a stabbing hatred for my sadness hit my stomach. Having mixed emotions was not foreign, but I was not used to my body being in complete war with itself.
My eyes focused on a car I was not familiar with as it pulled up on the curb in front of my house. Before getting my seatbelt off, my questioning brow was enough for Cali to answer me. “Mitch is driving Eva’s car around to save fuel. He wanted to meet us here. I hope that’s okay.”
Tears started again. I was so touched that he cared so much. My lips pulled together in my feeble attempt to halt my tears as I nodded. I was fighting furiously with the seatbelt, but with shaking hands and blurred vision, I was no match for even a task this small. Cali came around to my side to help me out. Even though I had only been in the hospital for a little over a day, my entire body was unsteady and I felt physically weak. My doctors had told me when I lost Randy that this reaction was normal from shock and extreme grief. I was tired of these stupid normal reactions. I just want my life back so badly.
Mitch hopped out of the driver’s seat of Eva’s powder-blue Honda Accord and jogged over to my side, sweeping his arm around my waist, hugging me tightly to him, and practically carrying me to the front door.
“I am so sorry, Mags. I had no idea.” Mitch’s eyes were filling with tears. His voice broke and faded as he whispered in my ear.
I threw my arms around Mitch’s neck, pressing my cheek against his as I breathed, “I know,” into his ear. “No one knew.”
All of us made our way to my front door, where my mom was standing in the frame, frozen with one hand grasped tightly over her mouth. Once I saw the sight of hundreds of dead daisies, torn and scattered amongst shattered glass, parts of them stained with my own blood, my tantrum and moments of realizations as my world crashed around me flooded in, welling up in my throat.
“Honey, what happened?” My mother’s voice was muffled by her hand, and I stepped out from Mitch’s grasp.
I did not say anything. I just dragged my shoes across the glass and flowers, the soaked carpet sloshing under my weight. Making my way to the stairs, I was thankful that no one was following me. The trek up to my bedroom felt like years, each step making my heart race faster, my breath quicken, my hands shake more.
&nb
sp; Standing in front of my shut bedroom door, I felt all the adrenaline, fear, and anger quickly spread from the tips of my fingers, coursing through my veins and bones until my entire body was buzzing with anticipation. Grasping the doorknob, I took two deep breaths to steady myself and then flung the door open. I was not sure what I’d expected—maybe it to be ransacked from Walker’s hasty flee, drawers thrown about, furniture broken, the journal gone. I gasped at the sight of none of that. The room was just the way I’d left it.
The next thing I knew, I was curled in the fetal position in the middle of the baby-blue carpet, sobbing softly, crutching Walker’s journal to my heaving chest. I was scared to open it, but more afraid to let it go; I hated it so much, but I loved finally knowing some truths and that they were still contained. I had not told anyone about my findings, except for Cali, who I’d called right after I’d read the terrible passage that had changed my life again. I knew that she had told my mom and Mitch, and I prayed that was where my secret lay. I was scared for Walker to be dishonorably discharged, even though I knew he deserved it. For some sick reason, I still cared deeply for him and wished I knew that he was all right.
A few moments went by before I heard Cali’s sweet voice coming from my doorway. “Mags? May I come in?”
I willed myself to sit, leaning against my bed for support, my hands clenched over my eyes; I could not bring myself to look at her. “What’s up, Cal?” My voice was surprisingly level but weak.
“I just wanted to check on you.” I felt her body sit next to mine, and her head fell onto my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I moved my hands away before I started to talk, knowing it was the braver thing to do. “No, but that is normal for me.” I let out a quick giggle as she grimaced down at me.
“Yeah, I guess we all are dealing with some sort of mess right now.” Her head fell back to the side of my mattress as she let out a low, long sigh. “We’ll get through this, just like everything else.”
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