Page 100 of When We Are Falling

I find the boys upstairs on the roof terrace and share a couple of drinks with them, my thoughts a million miles away. I stay an hour or so before making my excuses and heading back to the truck. The dark interior welcomes me, and I sit there vaping, thinking about everything as the night lengthens and people filter out of the Tavern, the evening drawing to a close.

The boys leave, the last of the patrons filing out behind them. Soon the lights inside the Tavern flicker off and the door closes. Blake emerges, keys in hand, and I follow her with my gaze as she walks to her car.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel, but I stay put, watching until she’s safely inside her car and driving away. Only then do I start the truck, heading home alone.

Chapter 47

Blake

The next day,I’m still thinking about Ethan as I wipe down the counter for what must be the hundredth time tonight, my gaze on a couple together on the dance floor. They’re lost in their own world, swaying like a slow tide rolling in, the dim lights illuminating their intertwined bodies.

As they stare at one another, the music playing over the speakers seems distant, barely noticeable, and it’s pretty clear the real song is beating between the two of them. The way he’s looking at her, like she’s the very center of his universe, makes my heart clench.

I swallow hard, blinking back the sudden wave of emotion. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a couple like this, wrapped up in each other, but tonight, it hits differently.

The way his hand rests at the small of her back, fingers splayed wide like he never wants to let go, her eyes bright as she smiles up at him. The ghost of Ethan’s hand presses againstmy back and I suck in a breath, but that’s not my story. Not anymore.

That feeling yesterday when we locked eyes, his apology, the way his voice cracked, like he was holding back, keeps replaying in my mind. The connection between us... it was still there, crackling and pulsing like it always does when we’re in the same room.

And the fact is, I still love him.

It’s not something I can turn off, even though I wish I could. Glancing down at the rag in my hand, my fingers tighten around it, knuckles whitening—loving him doesn’t erase everything that happened between us. Doesn’t erase the fact I can’t let him in like he wants.

The couple on the dance floor twirls slowly, her laughter floating through the air, soft and light. I envy her, the ease with which she gives herself to him, the trust it takes to lean into someone that completely.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.

So, with a sigh, I turn to the customer waiting to order drinks, a smile forced in place as we chat about things that don’t matter, and the night marches on. Soon it’s closing time, and the Tavern empties. I clean up quickly, going through the motions I could quite literally do in my sleep, before setting the door alarm, the small red light blinking as I switch the light off, darkness swallowing the bar.

Locking up, I take a step back. The night is quiet, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, broken only by the distant slap of water against the boats in the marina and the creak of dock ropes straining in the wind. There are no voices, no cars driving down Main Street. Just me and the night and my lonely, heart-sick thoughts.

I’m about to head to my car when the quiet is shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. I fist the keys, lettinga couple protrude from my fingers, and spin, fast. It takes me a split second to process David striding toward me through the darkness, eyes bloodshot, movements agitated and on edge, clothes rumpled.

There’s a wild, almost desperate energy in the way he moves, while his face is gaunt, cheeks hollowed. An instinctive step back, a slash of tension lancing through me.

“David?” Trying to keep my voice calm. “What are you doing here?”

He stops a couple of steps away, looking like he’s been through hell. His hair is matted, streaked with sweat, and the dark smudges beneath his bloodshot eyes make him look haunted, like a man who’s spent days wrestling with his demons. There’s a strong smell of cigarettes and stale sweat clinging to him—he’s been unraveling for a while.

“I just came to tell you it’s over. She’s never going to pay for what she did. Not that you fucking care.”

I grip the keys a little tighter, trying to ignore the wild, desperate look in his eyes. For so long, I’ve been telling Ethan I could handle David on my own, refusing to face the truth staring me in the face: David isn’t the boy I grew up with anymore, the one I trusted never to hurt me. And for the first time, real fear settles in. “You could’ve called.”

“Called?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. His eyes bore into mine, accusing. “You’re too busy with your new life, right? Too busy forgetting where you came from. Forgetting everything we went through.”

Another step back. “That’s not true, David. I’m just—”

“Just what?” His voice rises, frustration spilling over. He closes the distance between us. “Too good for me now? Trying to protect that bitch, Sylvia?”

“David, please—”

He leans in close, the acrid smell of body odor hitting me. “I couldn’t find anyone. No one wants to give evidence against her. She’s going to get away with everything she did to me. And you don’t give a shit. You never have.”

“I do care. I—”

But before I can finish, he grabs my wrist, pulling me close. His grip is tight, almost painful, the heat of his breath on my face. My heart leaps into my throat and wedges there.

“David, let go,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even, though it trembles at the edges. Trying to pull back, but his fingers tighten like a vise around my wrist, pinning me.

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