Page 72 of Dare to Fall

“Yes, Mother. I’m fine. I was just calling to check on the status of everything. I saw that Connor’s name was revealed. Do you know if there is any risk that Eva’s name will be released as well?” I asked in a hushed voice, careful not to wake Eva.

“You’ve really fallen for this young woman, haven’t you?” she sighed.

“I…I can’t help it, Mother. I’ve never felt this way before—about anyone. She’s so incredible, and I just don’t want to see her hurt by this any more than she already has been.”

“I was hoping you would find your person someday. I knew it would come if you would just open your heart a little more, but I have to say, I’m a little taken aback that she is wrapped up in this scandal. I don’t want to see you get hurt at the end of all this.”

“I’m not the one who is at risk of being hurt, Mother. If Eva’s name gets plastered across the Internet, it could follow her for a very long time. It could even impact her ability to get a job and build a future for herself.”

There was a rustling of papers. She was probably working late at her desk in their home library.

“I understand that, which is why I’ve been working with the press team and our lawyers nonstop. We still haven’t identified the person who leaked the story, so it’s difficult to tell if the source even has information on Eva. But if she has friends who are aware of the situation, I don’t have any control over stopping them from spreading rumors. If you really care about her, I think the best thing you could do for her is to prepare her for what may come. Don’t let her be blindsided by the potential of this scandal. When something of this magnitude gets rolling, a lot of people will give in to the temptation to be part of the spotlight. This could change a lot of relationships for her in a short period of time. But I will make sure that she is protected in any way I can.”

The truth of my mother’s words stung like the edge of a knife. With how much the story had already progressed across the country, it wouldn’t be surprising if her friends started to get in on the action. Everyone wanted their fifteen minutes of fame—until they made it to the other side and realized just how fucked up it all was. The heat from the spotlight always seared the skin of those it touched, leaving an everlasting mark.

Eva stirred in the bed across the loft. I watched as she eased herself up onto her elbows and gave me a breathtaking smile.

“I have to go, Mother. Thank you…for helping me with this.”

“We’re always here for you, Garth. Meandyour father.”

I knew she couldn’t help it, trying to mend the fractured relationship between all of us. But now wasn’t the time.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

I clicked off the call and made my way to the bed.

Eva looked up at me with sleepy eyes as I leaned down and planted a swift kiss to her lips.

“Hi, beautiful,” I said as I lay down next to her and pulled her into me.

“Hi,” she said throatily. “What time is it?”

“It’s midnight now. You’ve been asleep for a few hours.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I’m starving.”

I chuckled. “Anything in particular you want me to order?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly.” She turned around to face me and wrapped her arms and legs around me. The warmth of her skin seeped into my bones. Through thick lashes, she gazed up at me longingly. And with just one look, she told me more than any words could convey.

Eva sat on the sofa in nothing but her black lace panties and one of my white V-neck t-shirts. She was stunning when I saw her at the university art exhibit, dressed in leather leggings, high heels, and a low-cut blazer, but seeing her like this, eating pizza on my couch and wearing my shirt with her long tan legs spilling out of it, made me fall for her all over again.

It was amazing how she had already come into her own by spending time away from those who were stifling her. I felt privileged to watch her blossom, to witness the unfolding of her wings.

“Can I be honest?” Eva asked between bites of cheese pizza.

I took a swig of beer and said, “Sure.”

“I didn’t know that being an artist could be so lucrative—at least not at such a young age. Is it a common thing?”

“What you see now is the outcome of a decade’s worth of really, really hard work. I wouldn’t say that being an artist is always lucrative. And there’s a lot of suffering and sacrifice that comes with it. When I was in college, I was working a full-time job as a waiter in New York. I barely slept, and I was rooming with three other guys in a tiny-ass apartment. It wasn’t glamorous. But what I discovered during that time is that life doesn’t hand out freebies. If you want something—reallywant something—you have to be willing to work your ass off for it. And that’s what art is for me. It’s the one thing in this world I don’t mind working hard for.”

“So, any artist who works their ass off will be able to have all this?” She gestured to the large space.

“I think that if you are doing something you love and you’re willing to put in the work, then yes. Anyone is capable of turning their passion into a substantial income. Maybe not in the traditional sense of making art and selling it to buyers, but they will find a way to make their passion their job. I’ve always found it funny that people think there is a limited amount of money people can make. That the top one percent is hoarding all the money and no one else can climb the ladder. It’s such bullshit. Money is infinite.”

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