Page 105 of Perfect Pursuit

Damn you, yes. I want to light up that sweet little ass of yours.

Fallon:

I’m leaning over and lifting up the back of my skirt…

Five years. It’s been five excruciating years since the vivacious blonde who could charm a rattlesnake off a rock it was sunning on captivated me as if I were her next prey. Yet, she had no idea of the hold she had on me until I pointed that out to her. “Fallon, I swear to you, I’ll fix us.”

It’s a promise, a vow.

One I don’t intend on breaking.

After I realized random fucking wasn’t going to take away the ache for the one woman I wanted, I gave up having sex since well before that night I blew up at her for taking that friendly photo with my brother. Instead, I realized no other woman would do.

Hurling my phone away from me so it lands on the couch, I lift the water and down another guzzle . How the hell was I supposed to know what was really going on? That’s easy, you fucktard. You knew her. She’s not the type to expose herself like she does with you to anyone else.

Now my subconscious decides to make an appearance. I fall to my knees in agony because I do know her. I know her drive, her determination, her absolute ethical morality.

You blew it to hell instead of asking her why she was working there. I finally admit the truth to myself because I am terrified of being hurt again.

Thus I come to the crux of my problem—being hurt by women. Being devastated in the wake of their leaving me. More recently, the aftereffects of being lied to amid terrible circumstances I can’t control. And finding out what truly happened to my sister and her husband, even taking the steps to fall for Fallon scared the piss out of me. Then to realize she, too, was lying to me was enough for me to abandon the relationship—and her. Only to find out I was the douchebag because I didn’t give her all of me.

Including my trust. That’s not Fallon’s fault. It’s because that was taken from me long before I became involved with her. Still, she’s paying the price for it.

I cross the room and pick up a framed photograph of my brother and me with our arms wrapped around a beautiful woman, equally enthralled with her as she was with us. We had no way of knowing that just days later, she’d be taken from us.

Our mother, Melissa.

For years, our father told us she’d died as the result of a cut she didn’t treat properly from a fence. It caused an infection they couldn’t administer the proper antibiotics to because she was pregnant with our baby sister, Paige. Apparently, after Paige was safely delivered, they tried to do their best to rescue our mother and failed.

It was a lie.

She was in a brutal car wreck caused by a drunk driver the day before Paige was born. But the lies and betrayals told for close to forty years after almost broke our family apart. I learned from him the truth is as plain as the nose on your face. That most people don’t have honor or integrity, and won’t keep their word.

Those are the life lessons I learned at Tyson Kensington’s knee.

Staring down at the picture of my mother, Jesse, and me, I wonder aloud, “What would you have taught us, Mama? How would you have taught us all to believe in doing the right thing, no matter the cost. To be honorable. To seek out the truth regardless of how hard it cost me personally?” Then I blurt out, “What would you have thought about me and Fallon?”

A wave of shame washes over me when I realize I’ve held this photo a hundred times since Fallon and I became an us, yet I’ve never asked my mother that question. She once accused me of being ashamed of her, but she had it wrong. I’m the one she should be ashamed of, with a father who would have sooner let his family fall apart than admit to his own culpability.

Fallon’s everything with her unending capability to bring out the best in everyone around her—including me. From the moment I met her indigo blue eyes in my rearview mirror, she’s been the one person I haven’t wanted to disappoint, also making her the one person I can’t quite quit. She’s the antidote to superficial relationships and meaningless conversations.

She’s the one person I need in my life.

And I threw her away because of what?

Forcing myself to relive the last few weeks, I go over every piece of evidence. I come to the same conclusion Q?za did—I didn’t piece together the facts. Most importantly, I didn’t factor in the woman I’ve known for the last five years.

I grab my phone, knowing exactly when we had this conversation.

Ethan:

So, are you living it up with every Phi Beta Douchebag there is?

Fallon:

They’re more like Pansy Boring Doormats.

Ethan:

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