The Consequence of Falling: New York Times Bestselling Author
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The Consequence of Falling
New York Times Bestselling Author
Claire Contreras
Copyright © 2019 by Claire Contreras
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Afterword
Fuck Marriage by Tarryn Fisher
Acknowledgments
Also by Claire Contreras
One
Presley
Maybe I was being overly dramatic and petty, but I was having the worst day imaginable. First, I lost the photography contest to Jamie, which meant she was going on an all-expenses-paid trip to China while I spent summer at home pretending to breeze through my summer reading list. Actually, I’d just buy the CliffsNotes and pay someone to do my report for me. Then, my parents told me they were getting a divorce. Actually, the word they used was separating, but everyone knew that was a nice way of saying they hated each other and wanted to eventually divorce—eventually meaning when Dad figured out a way to keep Mom from taking all his money. Lastly, I was getting soaked while I waited for one of them to pick me up from cheerleading practice. It was ridiculous, really. They’d picked me up after school, and in the break I had from getting drilled by teachers and then by my cheerleading coach because I was off my game, they laid the news on me. And now, they were late to pick me up.
This was exactly how kids ended up traumatized by divorce. It resulted in splitting their time between two houses and being forgotten all the time. If our parents couldn’t be trusted to make something as big as marriage work, how could they figure out how to schedule their lives around their children? I was already seething, but that thought made me rage. How could they just decide to not be together? It was May. We were only a month away from our annual family trip to Europe. Dad had chosen San Sebastian as this year’s excursion after I’d traced our genealogy back there to the Basques and connected with second cousins. We couldn’t not go. We’d been looking forward to it all year. Instead of going back inside or trying to find cover from the rain, I walked forward and sat on the steps, letting the storm consume me. I wanted them to see the effects of their selfishness. If I got sick it would be a bonus. Maybe I could skip the stupid end of school year dance this weekend and the field day performance while I was at it. Suddenly, being captain of the cheerleading squad just seemed stupid. All of this was stupid.
The sound of a car approaching made my head snap up. It was Dad’s tinted black Mercedes. I ground my teeth together as I stood, pulling my now-soaked backpack with me. I hoped everything in it was water damaged. My entire body shook as I stomped to the car and pulled the door open, letting the backpack drop in the feet compartment of the passenger seat and sitting down as heavily as my body allowed. That was when I saw the person in the driver’s seat was not my father, and my anger was replaced by panic.
“Who the hell are you?” I reached for the door handle.
I’d seen enough suspense movies to know a kidnapper when I saw one, and even though this guy was younger than I would’ve imagined a kidnapper being, and a hell of a lot cuter, I jumped out of the car and ran back to the front of the school.
“Presley.” He called my name as I tried to open the front door, which was locked. Of course they fucking locked it.
“I need to go back inside.” I pulled the handles with both hands and shook the door.
“Your dad sent me.”
“Yeah right. I’ve heard that one before.” I slapped my hand on the glass as I looked inside. “Help!”
I heard his footsteps behind me and froze, grabbing the handles even tighter. I wasn’t going down without a fight, that was for sure.
“Your father sent me to pick you up,” he said. He was literally right behind me. Panic crept into my throat, blocking out the yell I wanted to produce.
“Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He chuckled, then that chuckle turned into a full-on laugh. “You look crazy, you know that?”
“I don’t care about how I look. I’ve heard of people getting kidnapped for ransom, and I’ve had a really bad day already and refuse to succumb to your bullshit.”
“I’m not going to kidnap you.” He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed, not roughly, but not lightly either. “I’ll get your father on the phone.”
“You have his car.” I shot a narrowed look over my shoulder. He dropped his hands. “You could’ve kidnapped him first. Call the police and have them send an escort.”
“Wha . . . I . . . do they do that?” His brows furrowed. His genuine shock made me loosen the grip on the handles. That and my hands hurt.
“Call them.”
His eyes widened. He looked unsure of what to do. I could practically see his thoughts ping-ponging back and forth—would he call or not? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. I knew from the way his back straightened and the way he was talking that he’d called my father. I didn’t know this guy, but I knew that much, because it was what they all did when my dad was on the line. I rolled my eyes as he stepped forward and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Presley Carina Rose, I swear to all that’s holy that if you don’t get your ass in that car right this second I’m going to ground you for a month.” He was fuming. I felt my eyes narrow as I let go of the door and yanked the phone out of the driver’s hand, stomping toward the car.
“You know what? Fucking ground me. Send me away to boarding school. Send me to live with Aunt—”
“Did you just curse at me?”
I stopped walking and slapped a hand over my mouth. I’d just cursed at him. I never did that. I opened my mouth to apologize, to say something, anything. Instead, I hung up the call and closed the car door. The guy slid into the driver’s seat. I didn’t turn to acknowledge him, but I heard the click of his seatbelt before he started driving. I hated—no, loathed—when my parents hired people to drive me around or watch over me when they went out of town as if I was a child. Technically, at fifteen years old, I was, but I hated being treated as such.
“He means well . . . your dad,” the driver said.
My arms, crossed over my chest, tightened. “Wha
t do you know about him? You just met him.”
“I know a lot more about him than you think,” he said. “And I didn’t just meet him.”
My eyes widened. I glanced at him. “You’re not like, my half-brother or something, are you?”
“What? No.” He made a face like he had a million sour things in his mouth. “Are you seeing a therapist? Because you should. You jump to crazy conclusions about perfectly normal situations.”
“I don’t need a therapist. I need the people in my life to get their shit together.” I looked out the window. “And for the record, you don’t know me or what conclusions I jump to on a regular day, which this is not, so I’d appreciate it if you kept your preconceived judgments to yourself.”
“Preconceived? You jumped out of this car saying I was trying to kidnap you. You wanted me to call the cops to escort us to your house, which I’m still not certain they’d do.” He shot me a stern glance. I looked at his mouth. I don’t know why I did that, but I did. His lips were plump and soft looking. It was hard not to look at his mouth. He didn’t notice. “You were also sitting in the rain when I got here. Who the hell does that?”
“Someone who’s trying to make a point.”
“By catching pneumonia?”
“Maybe.” I tilted my chin upward as if I’d made a great point, but it really did sound stupid now I was playing it back. “Anyway, he didn’t tell me he hired a new driver and you look too young to be employed by him.”
“I’ve been employed by him for years.”
My face twisted. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“And what the hell could you have possibly doing ‘for years’?”
“His dry cleaning.” He caught me staring at him, waiting for him to expand on that, so he did. “My uncle owns a dry-cleaning business.”
“Oh.”
“Would it kill you to be a little more grateful for everything you have? Your parents work hard to maintain the idyllic lifestyle you have. Some people would kill to trade places with you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate it if we keep this conversation to a minimum until you drop me off. I don’t need to be reprimanded by one of Dad’s employees, and I definitely don’t need to explain my gratitude to you.”
“I’m just saying, you may want to ease up on him. He’s going through a hard time right now.”
“Let’s make something clear.” I turned my glare toward him. Thankfully, we were driving into my driveway and this little conversation would soon be over. “You don’t know me and despite what you think, you’ll never know him either. Whatever façade he’s showing you is just that.” I reached for the door handle and grabbed my backpack when the car came to a full stop. “And next time he sends you to pick me up, ignore him. I’ll gladly walk home.”
I opened the door and slammed it behind me. I ignored my mother’s voice when I heard her calling from the kitchen and stomped upstairs. I needed to shower and get rid of the stench of the day. What I wanted to do was punch something, no, someone. I wanted to punch that stupid driver. I didn’t even get his name, and I didn’t want to know what it was anyway. I would forever associate him with my most fucked-up day of the century.
Two
Two years later
“Oh, hell no.” I stood completely still in front of the driver. “This has to be some kind of joke.”
I hadn’t seen him since he’d taken me home that day years ago, but I had learned his name and a few things about him: Nathaniel Bradley, my father’s favorite pet. He was currently putting himself through business school in NYU, which I’d admit was impressive. What wasn’t impressive was hearing my father talk about him all the time. That was unbearably annoying. It was surprising that when I went to visit my father, Nathaniel wasn’t sitting on his damn lap like a dog enjoying being pet or something.
Seeing him now, I realized he couldn’t possibly fit on Dad’s lap. He’d clearly filled out his formerly bony frame and morphed into someone who looked like he belonged in cleats, shoulder pads, and smack in the center of every woman’s fantasies. He grinned as I gaped at him, and I snapped out of my stupid thoughts. Yes, he was devastatingly handsome. No, I didn’t want him, and I definitely didn’t want him to think I wanted him.
“I’m here to drive you to prom.”
“I’d rather walk.”
“In those heels?” His eyes traveled slowly down my body until they reached my shoes. I fought the urge to cover myself. It wasn’t like he was looking at me in a creepy I-want-you way or anything, but this guy, as annoying as he was, was really damn good-looking and the whole thing was weird. Why had my father hired hot guys to drive me around anyway? Not guys plural, because I highly doubted there were very many who looked like this. I took in the amused expression on his face and remembered how obnoxious he was last time and shook off the attraction, meeting his gaze full-on.
“I’ll take them off if I have to.”
“You?” he scoffed. “Have you ever walked barefoot in your life, princess?”
“Don’t call me that.” I rolled my eyes and walked past him, letting myself into the backseat of the car.
If he was going to drive me, there would be a clear line between us. He was my father’s employee, which meant he was sort-of my employee too, and I didn’t have to answer to him. In truth, most of Dad’s employees were family, and even the ones who weren’t treated me like I was one of their own, so I’d never thought to draw a line between us. I wouldn’t dare. It was this guy who brought out the ugly in me, with his untamed dark hair and his chiseled jaw and that stupid arrogance his blue eyes gleamed with.
“Isn’t it customary for the guy to pick up the girl for prom?”
I bit my lip to keep quiet. I wouldn’t respond. I wouldn’t respond. I wouldn’t respond. Truth was, Ben and I had broken up last week but decided to go together anyway and the prom was happening in the building across from his, so it seemed like a waste of time for him to collect me from my house across town. He was a self-absorbed asshole, who if he felt like he wasn’t getting something out of the exchange, he’d rather not make an effort. Not that I would say any of that to Nathaniel Bradley. He’d probably side with Ben anyway.
“Cat got your tongue, Presley?”
“Why aren’t you at some college party or something? Don’t you have anything better to do on a Saturday night?”
“Sure I do, but I’m having so much fun driving a little over-privileged brat around.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at me through the rearview.
My fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. “You know what would make this night a whole lot better? If you weren’t in it, so can you just shut up for the rest of the night?”
“I’ll think about it.”
* * *
“He’s not good for you.”
Those were the first words Nathaniel Bradley said to me when I got back in the car at the end of the night. I sat in the front seat this time and instantly regretted my move when he spoke the words.
“You literally dropped me off here. How would you possibly know whether or not he’s good for me?” I rolled my eyes and shook my head as he drove away from the Ritz, where the prom had taken place, and Ben’s parents had a penthouse apartment.
“He didn’t even walk you to the car.”
“Because he lives in the building.”
“He should’ve still walked you to the car.”
“Maybe he wanted me to stay.”
That shut him up for all of ten seconds. He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you? Isn’t that what people do on prom night?”
“What year do you live in?” I made a face. “People don’t wait for prom night to fuck anymore.”
“I don’t think they ever did.” He glanced at me. “I meant, why didn’t you stay out later? It’s not even midnight.”
I shrugged. “I was bored.”
“Bored at your boyfriend’s house?”
My night hadn’t gone as planned. For starters, Nathaniel wasn’t wrong. I should’ve still been in that building, preferably upstairs in Ben’s room, naked. Instead, I’d left the minute things started getting hot and heavy. Everything felt off. One minute I wanted him to rip my dress off, as usual, and the next I felt cold as stone and wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as my heels would allow it. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but something was definitely wrong with me. It’d been that way since my parents finalized their divorce last year.
My emotions had been all over the place. My therapist said it was normal. She said I had to give myself time to heal. I’d felt like I’d been sucker-punched with the news of the divorce though and everything that followed was a bit of a blur. I’d done everything I could to cope with the heavy guilt I felt in a healthy way. I knew deep down that it wasn’t my fault that Mom decided to step out on her marriage. It wasn’t my fault that she seemed to be looking for happiness in someone else’s house instead of ours. It wasn’t my fault, yet I felt like maybe something I’d done was the cause of all of this. Maybe it was because I’d heard her say that kids ruined everything in her relationships. Kids meaning me, since I was an only child. Whatever the reason for this feeling, I wanted to numb it. Those were the times I got myself into things that made me feel like I was in over my head. Tonight would have been another one of those nights if I hadn’t bailed on Ben. I pressed the back of my head on the headrest and turned my face to look out the window. It was definitely for the best that I left when I did. I was so lost in thought that I nearly jumped out of my seat when Nathaniel spoke again.