by Caisey Quinn
“And you will again soon. Promise.” I kiss her once more before setting her down. “Call me when you land in LA.”
“Yes sir,” she says with a mock salute.
One more feverish kiss and she’s gone, blending into the throng of travelers and leaving me to stare after her.
On my way to my car, I text her one more time to remind her to be safe and to call me when she lands.
She messages back that she will followed by an emoji that looks like a set of red kissy lips. I’m about to make a dirty comment about the set of lips I’d rather see when a message from an unknown number appears. It’s a number that’s called half a dozen times at odd hours in the past few weeks.
Need to talk to you. It’s important. Call me.
I frown at my phone as I message back.
Who is this?
Whoever it is doesn’t respond so I get in my car. I’m halfway home when the response comes through.
Fallon.
Fuck. I don’t remember giving her my new number, but there’s a lot I don’t remember about the last time I saw her. And there are plenty of other ways she could’ve gotten it.
I sit in my driveway contemplating my options for a good long while.
I could message her back. Fall back into the spiral of Fallon-related drama that she obviously wants to include me for some crazy ass reason. Risk hurting Corin again like I did the weekend of the auction. Or I can do what I should’ve done a long time ago.
Before I go inside, into my condo that is filled only with memories of Corin, I do what I should’ve done in high school.
I block Fallon Kensington from my phone. And hopefully out of my life.
For good.
3 years later
“I got in,” Corin practically squeals into the phone. “When can you come back to town so we can celebrate?”
“Congratulations, sweetheart. I should be able to get back in a few weeks.”
The past three years have been a roller coaster of ups and downs, of flights from California to Brazil, then when I got traded, flights from California to Vancouver. Corin and I have been there for each other in ways I’d never imagined. Her successes are mine and vice versa. Just as her pain is my pain. Her battles are my battles.
Last season I was the least scored on goalie in the league. And then I got traded, something I wasn’t expecting or necessarily even wanting. But the flights are definitely shorter.
Landen and Layla had a rough patch and O’Brien had to go to angry dude rehab to get his shit together, which he did just in time for Layla to give birth to their healthy baby girl. We visit them as often as possible—Corin more often than me because she’s still in California, where she just learned she was accepted into law school at UC Berkeley.
“I applied for an internship to help with tuition and was approved.” Her good news makes me smile and I can hardly wait to see my happy girl in person. She’s worked so hard. She deserves this more than anyone I know. “But I start at Weiseck Settlers and Zetterman in a few weeks so let’s try to nail down a date to celebrate as soon as we can, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” I answer.
“Miss you,” she says softly in to the phone. It’s been two months since we’ve seen one another, which is about the average amount of time we go between visits.
“Miss you too, Red,” I say before we hang up.
Long distance hasn’t been easy, but for the most part, we’ve been lucky. Our schedules haven’t exactly been flexible, but we’ve made it work. I got some national recognition recently and magazine coverage in a few publications wasn’t exactly flattering. I was shown as a fuckboy about town basically, which sucked and I know sucked for Corin to see. But she knows better and we didn’t let rumors break us.
My mom finally came with Katie to a few of my games and she’s gotten help for her drinking—something I never thought would happen. I didn’t realize how much I needed my family until I experienced what having them in my life was actually like. My dad is still a money-hungry asshole, but I never expected otherwise so it doesn’t affect me much.
Corin still doesn’t talk to her mom very often, but when she does it’s civil so that’s something. For the most part, I’m her family and she’s mine. We spend holidays, birthdays, and most special occasions together, sometimes with my family or my team or Layla and Landen, and sometimes just the two of us, but always together.
I text Katie about throwing Corin a small party of some sort to celebrate her getting into law school but her response is confusing.
Call me, little brother. ASAP.
Katie can be kind of a drama queen, but she and Corin get along well so I’m surprised she isn’t more enthusiastic about the good news.
Weird, but I don’t stress it. I text Layla and Landen to let them know I’m planning to put something together for Corin and they both text back that they’ll be there and to keep them informed on arrangements. One thing I’ve learned about friends with kids is they need lots of advance notice for things.
I debate for a while on contacting Corin’s mom and decide against it. If Corin mentions calling to tell her about law school then I’ll invite her. If not, I’ll stay out of it.
The team has a charity game to raise money for the Children’s Miracle Network and I’m heading in the arena to warm up when my phone buzzes with a text notification just before ringing.
My mom is calling and Katie just texted again to call her, this time with a 911 after it. Whatever it is, it must be important.
“Hey, mom,” I answer just before it goes to voicemail. “Everything okay?”
A plethora of fucked up scenarios flit through my brain. My dad could be sick, could’ve had a heart attack, or been in an accident. Those are the only conclusions I can come to that would have both mom and Katie all worked up at the same time.
“Skylar,” my mom begins softly in a tone I’m not accustomed to hearing from her. “I think you need to come home. Immediately.”
Shit. That can’t be good. “Is dad okay?”
My mom sighs. “Your dad is fine. It’s…someone else.” Her voice is grave and low and it almost sounds like she’s been crying.
“Okay. Then I give. Katie’s blowing me up with texts as we speak and you sound like someone ran over the family dog.” We don’t have a family dog, but if we did, I imagine this is how she would sound if it got ran over. “Who died?”
I’m not being serious about the last part, but the silence on the other end of the line tells me someone actually did.
“Did someone die?”
It feels like an eternity passes before she answers.
“Yes, Skylar. Someone died. Please get the earliest flight home so you can be here with family when—”
“Who the hell died, mom?”
I hear the audible intake of breath over the phone line. “Fallon Kensington. She overdosed in a hotel room in Milan. Her family just found out.”
“Jesus.” I close my eyes and Fallon appears behind them.
She wasn’t a bad person, just a mess. The kind of mess that spread to everyone around her. She’d tried to contact me years ago and I’d never responded. I tell myself it wouldn’t have mattered. She probably wasn’t reaching out for help and even if she were, I’d tried many times in the past to help her. I was never enough—my attempts were never adequate enough to do any good. Fallon always chose the drugs, the party, the fun, over anything I had to offer.
“When’s the funeral? I’d like to go see her family to pay my respects. I’ll try to get the first flight out.” A few of my teammates step into the locker room and gesture for me to come on. I cover the phone and tell them I’ll be right there.
“Monday, but Skylar, I need you to listen to me.” My mom’s voice is still filled with sadness but there’s a warning edge to it now that wasn’t there before.
“I’m listening.”
“You can’t go see her parents, Skylar. Not right now. Fallon’s family doesn’t want to see y
ou.”
What the hell?
“Since when? What did I do?” Fallon and I might’ve had an ugly break up after high school, but that was years ago. Mr and Mrs Kensington have always been nice to me, even since then. I understand if they’re grieving and want to be alone, but the way my mom put it makes it sound like there’s a reason they don’t want to see me personally.
“I’d rather talk about it when you come home, okay? Just don’t go over there. Come straight home when you land and we’ll talk.”
The only thing worse than getting a “we need to talk” from your girlfriend is getting one from your mom.
It takes two days for me to be able to clear my time with my coaches to attend Fallon’s funeral. Corin is waiting for me at the airport when I land.
I wrap her in my arms, realizing just how badly I needed to see her.
“I’m sorry about Fallon,” she says softly. “No one deserves to die like that.”
I try not to picture Fallon alone in some hotel bathroom but the image comes anyway.
“I only have three days of bereavement leave before I have to be back but I’d like to find out what’s up with her family. My mom is adamant about me not contacting them and even mentioned me only going to the viewing and not the funeral. Which is just strange.”
Corin frowns as we walk to her car. “That is strange. I mean, you and Fallon weren’t on bad terms or anything were you? Had you even seen her since the auction?”
I attempt a shrug but there is this sense of doom that overwhelms me, like a storm cloud just positioned itself directly overhead and is threatening to destroy my entire world any second.
“I did see her,” I tell Corin. “Once. In Brazil. She had a shoot there shortly after I signed with United.”
A miniscule amount of pressure lifts from my chest. Fallon is dead and I won’t dishonor her memory by lying, even if the truth might do some serious damage to the only relationship that matters to me.
“Oh,” Corin says softly. “But things were okay? You didn’t have a fight or anything?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
The drive to my parents’ house is quiet. The mood between us hangs in a delicate balance that depends heavily upon my ability to keep my mouth shut and Corin’s willingness to not press for more information on the night I last saw Fallon. Corin’s a smart girl though, and I can see her working it out in her head as the California landscape blurs by.
When we pull into my driveway, Corin starts to get out of the car without looking at me. My hand encircles her wrist gently.
“Hey.” I nod toward the house. “Whatever happens in there, whatever we find out about Fallon and why her family hates me, you and I still have each other’s backs, right?”
She meets my gaze and nods. Her eyes are full of conflicted emotions. “Always, Sky. You know that.”
“I love you,” I tell her, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re here. And congratulations again about law school. I’m sorry if I haven’t said it enough, but I am so damn proud of you.”
She returns my kiss but there is no enthusiasm behind it. “Love you too,” she whispers.
As we make our way in the house, I reach for her hand and she lets me hold it. She said she loves me too and I believe her. I just can’t figure out why it sounded like she was saying goodbye.
My entire life I’ve been able to tell when something bad was coming. Or maybe I had ulcers and a constant sense of something foreboding because of my mom’s occupation. Either way, it’s been a while since I’ve felt like the ground was about to be ripped out from beneath me. I feel it now, though, as Skylar and I walk hand in hand into his family’s sprawling mansion.
Fallon Kensington is dead. I didn’t know her well, having just met her once, but from what Skylar told me years ago, I wasn’t exactly her biggest fan. Between that and the jealousy, I’m plagued by a strange type of guilt regarding all things Fallon.
Why would someone so beautiful and successful need drugs to be happy? It’s not a question I can answer not having known her. Skylar said there were some things in her childhood that she struggled to come to terms with and that I can relate to.
We step into the foyer and a woman I’ve never met hugs Skylar tightly. She’s an attractive blonde Skylar introduces as his mom’s assistant Dee. We nod in greeting and are led into the dining area where Katie and Mrs. Martin are seated. Several bottles of red wine adorn the table. Odd, since I thought Skylar’s mom quit drinking, but apparently grief is like an alcoholic cheat day.
Skylar’s mom makes a strangled sound at the sight of him before launching herself into his arm. His wide eyes meet mine. Neither of his parents are particularly affectionate so this is new.
Katie gives me a hug and congratulates me on law school. I thank her and tell her I’m sorry to hear about Fallon. At which point, her face twists in to a mask that I can only describe as half sadness half anger.
“Come, sit,” Skylar’s mom tell us. We follow, but she looks at me strangely before turning to her son. “Skylar, you might want to ask Corin to give us a few minutes. This is sort of a private matter and—”
“And she’s as much my family as anyone sitting here,” he tells her blatantly.
Oh, awesome. Nothing like being awkwardly uninvited to a conversation to make an already uncomfortable situation worse. I twitch in my seat.
“I could go—”
“You’re fine,” Skylar says to me before turning to his mom. “Corin knows about Fallon’s issues, about how she died. She’s not going to go blab to the local papers.”
His mom levels him with a stare that would melt me where I sit. “Very well, then.”
She starts to open an envelope with trembling hands. But Katie stops her.
“Mom, how about you let me tell him?” She smiles kindly at her mom and then at both of us.
My head is spinning.
Mrs. Martin nods and retrieves her half empty glass of wine.
Katie smiles warmly at both of us before she begins.
“Sky, remember when we were kids and we climbed the neighbor’s fence to swim in their pool?”
Skylar’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Yeah, I guess. But I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“And you fell in the deep end,” she continues. “And you wouldn’t yell for help because you didn’t want to get us in trouble?”
Skylar nods. “You screamed bloody murder, though, until Mr. Walker came and pulled my little ass out.”
Katie lets out a small laugh. “You were four years old. I remember thinking you were going to drown and it was going to be all my fault.”
Skylar sighs, clearly ready for her to get to the point. “But I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t,” she agrees. “But I always felt guilty about goading you into climbing that fence. And I feel that same type of guilt for introducing you to Fallon when we were teenagers. I thought…well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. But watching you try to help her with her addictions and demons was like watching you drown all over again. Only this time I couldn’t yell for help. All I could do was hope she didn’t drag you down with her. While I’m sorry that she’s gone, I can’t say I’m sorry you distanced yourself from her.”
I hadn’t known Katie had introduced them. A lump forms in my throat from the realization that Katie is hurting as much if not more than Skylar is.
Skylar nods. “I understand. But I’m a big boy and I made my choices. I can live with them and no one else is to blame. So is anyone going to tell me why I’m persona non grata at her funeral?”
Katie takes the envelope her mother was holding with shaky hands just moments ago. “Did you know Fallon had a son? Christian?”
Skylar’s head jerks back in a way that clearly indicates he didn’t. “No. Since when?”
“Since three years ago,” Katie says evenly. “He just turned three in March. He lives with her parents. She went into rehab to cover the pregnancy and so
she could stay clean while carrying him. They kept it quiet so as not to damage her career.”
Skylar’s body is rigid beside mine. Except for the movement of the thick knot in his throat when he swallows, he is completely still.
“Christian Andrew Kensington,” Katie says softly as she pulls a photo and a letter from the envelope.
I glance down and am met by the smiling face of an adorable little cherub. His curly dark hair and hazel eyes are familiar.
Because they belong to the man sitting beside me.
I haven’t touched the wine but the room is spinning and I feel like I might be sick. I can’t look at Skylar. Or his mom. Or Katie. I can’t look anywhere.
I close my eyes and feel a tear escape one of them.
I knew when he said he’d seen her once in Brazil that there was more to it. Apparently a lot more. But I thought I could let it go. It was years ago.
This…this is a child. A permanent reminder of what must’ve happened between them. My hand goes numb and I realize Skylar is squeezing it hard enough to hurt.
“Skylar,” I whisper, disentangling my fingers from his. “Breathe.”
His jaw ripples with tension.
“So this is my son?” He stumbles over the words, pointing to the picture without really looking at it. His pain washes over me and I’m torn between wanting to absorb some of it for him and wanting to run far and fast from the entire ordeal to alleviate my own.
“According to the letter,” Katie answers. “It arrived the day after we heard she’d passed. It was addressed to me but the letter was for you. I guess she didn’t know how else to reach you. I’m sorry I read it, but with the picture, I couldn’t stop myself. Does the timing make sense? Of the pregnancy I mean?”
Skylar nods almost imperceptibly.
“You should probably read it, Sky,” I say softly. “Might help.”
He turns to me and I can see that he’s broken. At a loss for answers or explanations, he looks helpless and I understand why Katie made the comparison to him drowning.
I force a smile even though it feels like the slightest breeze would shatter me into a million pieces. “We can talk about the rest later, but he’s a child, Sky. And he’s alive in the world, and you deserve to know the truth.”
