Even If I Fall

by Abigail Johnson

  “I’m Maggie.”

  Heath eyes me quickly before replying with his name. I’m sure he’s used to people around here knowing him on sight, especially once they hear his name, but with Maggie, there isn’t even a hint of recognition. A knowing smile inches its way onto her face, but it’s a normal my-friend-has-been-hiding-a-boy-from-me-and-I-can’t-wait-to-torment-her-about-it smile and nothing more. Heath’s gaze touches me again and I can practically see the question running through his mind: She doesn’t know? I give him the tiniest of head shakes. He frowns for a split second, no doubt wondering how that’s possible, but thankfully, Maggie doesn’t see it and Heath doesn’t say anything out loud.

  “So how do you guys know each other?” Maggie asks.

  Worried that Heath might say the wrong thing—namely the truth—I answer much too quickly. “Just from around.”

  “No kidding?” Maggie cocks her head at me. “’Cause, we’re usually around together. How come I don’t know Heath?”

  I can feel the blood drain from my face. I can’t think of a single explanation. Already I feel sweaty and tongue-tied and my brain is cotton, and every second I don’t answer, Maggie’s teasing smile shifts more into a confused frown.

  “That’s probably my fault,” Heath says, drawing Maggie’s increasingly penetrating stare to himself. “We haven’t seen much of each other in, what is it, Brooke, a year?”

  I nod, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I try to speak.

  “We ran into each other again last month and I thought I’d stop by and say hi again.” He looks at me like we’re completely alone. “Hi.”

  This time I do answer audibly; I can’t not. “Hi.”

  Watching us, Maggie all but jumps up and down and claps her hands. I know her well enough to see past the semi-calm facade she’s hanging on to for Heath’s benefit—inwardly, she’s definitely clapping. I can’t blame her. In my wildest dreams, I could never be as disarming and charming as Heath is. He has me half believing that he’s been waiting outside my work like some smitten boy, instead of the hurting one he feels he can only fully be with me.

  “Well,” Maggie says, “Brooke gets off work in a couple hours. We were supposed to hang out and hopefully start working on this ice-skating audition thing, but I suddenly feel way too tired for that.” Her eyes are as bright and alert as a kid visiting Disneyland for the first time. “Maybe you guys can say more than hi to each other instead. Who knows, there might even be fireworks.”

  My face heats at her comment but because I can’t presume on Maggie’s prowess for keeping Jeff at bay for too long, I quickly nod when Heath glances at me for confirmation. “Yeah, I’ll meet you when I leave.” I don’t say where, but Heath knows. That’s more info than I want Maggie to have. I’m going to have to do plenty of damage control as it is, and I’ve already let her find out much more than I ever intended. One word about Heath to the wrong person—which is essentially everyone—and it’s over. Everything.

  We say bye to Heath, then I all but drag Maggie back inside.

  “You are in so much trouble,” she whispers in my ear, forcing a laugh I don’t remotely feel from me with a well-aimed elbow into my ribs. “I want to hear everything!”

  CHAPTER 22

  Maggie practically drags me into the girls’ bathroom when we get inside, stopping only long enough to snag the cleaning cart along with us for Jeff’s benefit. As soon as the door shuts behind us, she crouches and checks to make sure all the stalls are empty before rounding on me.

  “When were you going to tell me about him?” she asks, her voice echoing around the tiled bathroom.

  “Heath?”

  “No, the other cute guy you’ve been hiding from me.” She swats my arm then draws back only to rethink it and swat me again.

  “You heard him. There’s nothing to tell.”

  “The fact that you said that with a straight face.” She shakes her head at me then eyes the cleaning cart—more accurately, the plunger. I deliberately pull the cart behind me and Maggie sighs.

  “You never look at guys.”

  “That’s not true.” I just make sure they’re too far away to look back.

  Maggie rolls her eyes. “You almost never look at guys.”

  “There’s not usually a lot to look at.” Jeff’s voice reaches us as he walks past the closed bathroom door, effectively winning the argument for me.

  “Well, you were looking at Heath and he was definitely looking back.”

  “Seriously with the fireworks line?”

  “What?” She grins. “I meant in the sky. What kind of fireworks are you planning on tonight?”

  I lower my head, not wanting her to see my cheeks flush. “Honestly, it’s not like that.”

  “Yet.” Maggie points at me. “It’s not like that yet.”

  I have no answer for her. It will never be like that, and yet nothing short of the truth will convince Maggie otherwise.

  “All right, I want full details.” She hops up on the sink with her back to the mirror. “How did you run into him? Where and what and all the questions. Go.”

  “He told you. There’s no big story.”

  “Really?” she asks, hands on hips.

  “Really,” I tell her, putting every ounce of sincerity I can into the word.

  “Really?” Her hands drop. “See, I hate this. I don’t know what you’re like with guys so I can’t tell if you’re telling me the truth or not. He’s seriously cute though, like I can picture him on the back of a horse with a cowboy hat dipped low over his eyes. The sun would be setting behind him as he offered a hand to pull me up behind him and called me darling.”

  “Called you darling?” Too late I realize my mistake. Maggie’s slow smile is pure evil.

  “I thought it wasn’t like that?”

  “It’s not.”

  “But you want it to be, and trust me when I tell you that you are not alone in the feeling. I swear he looked at you like...like...you look at the ice.” She laughs. “Look at you blush!”

  I can feel my face flushing, so I can hardly deny it. “Can we please drop this?”

  “Uh-uh. Every time I try to talk to you about your audition lately, you shut me down. I’m not letting this one go too, not when you clearly like—”

  “Then let’s plan my audition,” I say too loudly, my heart leaping into my throat over her unfinished sentence. I can’t let her say it, because I can’t for a moment let it be true.

  Maggie’s perfectly arched brows lift. “Are you serious?”

  My heart rate barely slows when I answer her. “Yes.”

  * * *

  The drive to Hackman’s Pond gives me plenty of time to wonder why Heath showed up at my work the way he did, especially considering how many more people are in town today for the Fourth of July celebrations, and all of the reasons I come up with are bad. I’m trying to slow my panic-induced heartbeat as I hurry to join him in the shade.

  Heath is frowning before I even get my breathless questions out.

  “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

  “No, it’s fine. I just—”

  Air whooshes out of my lungs and I hug him. Full-body hug him. My arms lock around his neck, pulling his somewhat resistant body to mine. It takes him a moment to respond, but when his arms encircle my back, it’s the safest I’ve felt since before Jason went away.

  The hug goes on too long, long enough for it to transition from a gesture of relief to one where I’m much too aware of his heart beating in tempo with mine and the hard muscles of his chest pressed against me. I loosen my grip and move away, and his arms slide around the small of my back until I physically step out of reach. Even then they linger for half a second before he lowers them to his sides.

  “It didn’t rain,” I say, holding his gaze and thinking for the first time that Heath’s eye
s look like the blades of my skates before I sharpen them, a soft and muted silver. “I thought something must be wrong.”

  “I should have realized. Nothing is wrong.” Heath drops his head and says something harsh under his breath, before lifting it a second later. “I just—I wanted to see you.”

  My heart twists a bit at that admission, and from the suddenly pained expression on Heath’s face, I know he felt it too.

  “I’m sorry about showing up at the rink. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He nods, and then his brows draw together. “Your friend, she really doesn’t know?”

  I shake my head, walking past him to sit on a branch. “She moved here at the beginning of summer.”

  “And nobody has said anything to her?”

  “I don’t think people go around talking about it randomly anymore.” And I make sure she stays away from anyone who might.

  Heath joins me on the branch, so that we’re sitting side by side, closer than either of us have dared before. “Why haven’t you told her?”

  I glance at him. “Would you?”

  He gives the question serious thought before answering. “No, I guess not.”

  “She’s my best friend. Really she’s my only friend.” I look down at my crossed ankles swinging slightly above the grass. “I don’t know that she’d still be the same with me if she knew.” I give my head a hard shake, trying to dislodge the unpleasant thought. “Anyway, for now she doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

  “And I just made that a lot harder for you.”

  “No,” I say, extending my hand on the branch between us when he frowns. “She knows your first name but nothing else. She thinks—” I blush but I don’t let myself look away “—she thinks I was keeping you a secret because I like you, not because of our brothers. I tried to explain it’s not like that,” I add quickly when his jaw locks. “Eventually she’ll see that’s all there is.” I hope.

  His eyes flick to my hand on the branch when I draw it back to my lap. After a minute he nods. “So the ice-skating audition thing. I thought you weren’t doing it.”

  I sigh at the shift between one uncomfortable topic to another. At least this one doesn’t involve Heath and me.

  “I have to—film it anyway. I don’t have to submit it, and even then there’s no guarantee that I’d get the letter in the mail inviting me to audition in person or that I’d have to accept a job offer if they made one.” Even as I say this though, the idea of getting picked, of skating with a professional team has my heart nearly bursting in my chest. It swells warm and bright inside me for a minute before I let reality smother it.

  “I still have a few things to figure out.” When Heath keeps looking at me expectantly, I explain about securing rink time, figuring out choreography and, at Maggie’s insistence, finding someone to work on lifts and partnering with. “Lifts aren’t required, but showing even basic partnering work is a plus. I have a friend in Houston who should be able come for the actual audition if I ask him, but just for the day. I still need someone to practice with, and that’s a big ask for Telford.”

  “Another skater?”

  “Well, yeah, I mean—” I cut off, looking at Heath, remembering the strength in his arms when he hugged me. “Can you—Yeah, just stand up for a second.” I hop down from the branch and he follows.

  “I’ve never set foot on an ice rink.”

  “You don’t have to.” I position myself right in front of him and brace my hands on his forearms. “Can you lift me?”

  “What, like—” his hands settle high on my rib cage and a breath later my feet are off the ground. My hands slide up to his shoulders as he raises me high above his head “—this?”

  “Yeah,” I say, a little breathless. “That’s good. You can put me down now.”

  We both laugh a little, and there’s so much uncertainty in that sound.

  I tell myself this has to be a good idea even as my skin prickles with doubt. Not only will I have a partner to practice with but I can explain Heath to Maggie too, and since he’ll be connected to my audition—which she’ll understand me wanting to keep secret—that’s all the reason I’ll need to give her not to mention him to anyone. And Heath and I can still see each other whether there’s a cloud in the sky or not. We’ll have a reason that goes beyond our brothers.

  We won’t need the rain anymore.

  “So you need somebody to practice with, off the ice?”

  “The submission deadline for the audition is at the end of August,” I say. “So it would only be for six weeks or so.”

  “I can probably do that,” he says, though I can tell from the way he keeps shifting his feet that he’s not sure this is a good idea.

  So far we’ve spent an hour together here and there, usually with several feet of a tree branch between us, and they haven’t all gone well. What I’m asking for now will bring us much, much closer. And practicing—working with and physically relying on each other—is intimate.

  The first fireworks burst in the darkening sky. I’m suddenly afraid, and my feet have barely left the ground.

  CHAPTER 23

  I’m early to our first practice. Heath is late.

  When he pulls up and gets out of his truck, I jump up from the branch and brush off the back of my black leggings like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. That guilty feeling intensifies as he approaches, his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched high like he’s trying to ward off an icy wind.

  Nothing about this afternoon is icy. We’re both already sweating, and we haven’t done anything yet.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” he says. I wait for him to offer an explanation, but he doesn’t.

  “It’s fine,” I say too brightly. “Gave me some time to mentally run through what I want us to work on. Thanks again for agreeing to help me.”

  Heath doesn’t respond, but after a long moment he lifts his shoulders in an impatient gesture. “Is standing here part of what you want us to work on?”

  I blink at him, the only response I allow myself to have to his curt words. They are way too reminiscent of our earlier interactions. I’d thought—hoped—we’d moved past that, or that we were at least trying to.

  “Why are you even here?” I ask, softly but surely.

  His response is just as calm. “I said I would help, so I’m here.”

  “Last time we talked you seemed okay with helping me. Now you don’t.” That is putting it mildly. He’s practically vibrating with suppressed annoyance. I know I haven’t done anything to account for the shift.

  “It’s freaking hot out here.” Only he doesn’t say freaking.

  Yeah, it is hot, but it’s always hot. Sometimes I forget what it feels like not to have sticky skin. He’s not angry about the weather, so I don’t say anything, but I keep looking at him. He’s not a fan of that, because he starts to openly scowl at me.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Why are you mad?”

  “’Cause I suddenly need a reason?”

  “To be mad at me? Yeah.”

  He half snorts. “Same reason, different day.”

  I might have accepted that answer a couple weeks ago, but not anymore. His anger isn’t about me, not directly, but digging for the reason will likely make it worse. I don’t have to stand here and take it though.

  “I don’t want your help if this is how it comes. I can literally go anywhere else if I want to be treated badly.”

  His scowl slips. First a little, then a lot. In another minute, his features smooth completely. It’s like watching a gun uncock. He swallows before speaking.

  “I’m sorry.” And it’s nothing like the clipped apology he gave me for being late. The words don’t come as easily, but this time he means them. “I
had a bad day, but I don’t need to take it out on you.”

  “Cal?”

  Heath starts to shake his head. “No—I don’t know. It’s always about him.” He shifts his gaze from me. “My mom asked me where I was going when I left, and I said work. I lied right to her face. She even kissed me on the cheek after I said it, since I help out with the bills. So I’m driving over here—” he points to where our vehicles are parked, one behind the other, and his voice picks up in volume “—in Cal’s truck, and my mom thinks I’m sacrificing all my free time to make money for the family when in reality...in reality...” He falls quiet.

  In reality he’s meeting the sister of his brother’s murderer. I can’t help but cringe.

  “No,” Heath says. “Don’t do that. It isn’t about you. I just don’t know how I can ever explain it to her. I’m stuck with lying to her, and I’ll never feel good about that.”

  I understand that. I didn’t have to lie to my mom about where I was going today, but that was only because she was still in bed with a headache from crying all night. Just because I didn’t speak the lie aloud about who I was meeting didn’t make it any less of a one.

  “Look,” I say, watching Heath walk over to the tree and lean against the trunk. “Maybe we should just stop—”

  “No.” He makes sure to hold my gaze when he repeats the word. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t like lying to my mom because she wouldn’t understand, not because I’m doing anything wrong with you. You aren’t either. I just have to figure out how to not be a dick about it to you.”

  I exhale half a laugh. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

  “I am sorry.”