Page 41 of Fall Wherever They May

“Well, let me buy you a drink then.” He turns to the bar to get Gina’s attention, but River’s words stop him in his tracks.

“No, I was talking about you, not to you.” She pushes at his shoulder and walks over to the round booth.

“Ooooooh,” The crowd around laughs at his expense.

Aspen sits beside me in the booth River snagged; everyone else in our group is seated all around us as we play speed quarters. We all take shot after shot, joking, laughing, and having a good time. The two shot glasses have caught up with me. With a quarter in my hand, I bounce it on the table and miss. I have one more chance to bounce another quarter; I shoot again and miss. I quickly take both shot glasses and down them. I’ve never been good at quarters, and it shows. I’m certain we played the entire game wrong, but we are all drunk by the end of the round, so either way, mission accomplished.

River grabs Hanah and Aspen’s hands, dragging them down the stairs and onto the dance floor. The guys stand with me at the railing of the loft upstairs, which overlooks them. There are cages in every corner with women dancing, but are my eyes on them? No, they are on the raven-haired beauty that has seemed to gain all of my attention. We watch the girls dance, arms in the air, swaying their hips to the music.

“So, are you going to finally admit you got a thing for the boss lady?” Carter asks with his elbows resting on the banister.

I scoff. “I don’t have a thing for Aspen. We’re just friends.”

The moment I say that, my eyes narrow on three guys making their way over to the girls. One of them begins dancing with Aspen. He runs the back of his hand from her shoulder down to her hand, intertwining them as his other hand goes to her waist. He grinds his crotch on her ass, but she immediately moves to put space between them. He leans down to whisper in her ear. My blood begins to boil, and I become dizzy. I don’t want him near her. I would probably label this feeling as jealousy, but I don’t want to be jealous. We’re friends, and that’s it, but I sure the fuck don’t like his hands on her. My jaw ticks, and my teeth literally crack as I stand by idly and watch them. When she turns around and wraps her arms around his neck, I can’t takeit anymore. I swiftly turn and breeze my way down the stairs, cutting through the crowd, maneuvering people out of my way until I’m standing in front of them.

“Move.” I say to the guy.

“No. Aspen . . . It’s Aspen, right?” He asks her, and she nods. “Aspen and I are talking. You can wait.” He pushes me back.

He has one hand on her waist and one on my chest, and all I see is red. “Get your fucking hand off of her,” I say.

“Cal!” She scolds, then steps back from the asshole.

“Fucking make me,” the douche says with his fist flexing at his side. He still has his hand on my chest. My fist flies.

“Cal! Stop!” Aspen screams as I punch him two times in the face, feeling his nose crunch. “Stop it now!” She goes to grab my arm, but I jerk back from her touch and turn to walk away. Bouncers are hot on my heels as they follow me to the door. The cell phones in my face don’t escape my attention as I dash out of the club.FUCK!Once outside, I jog down the sidewalk, trying to put distance between myself and anyone who might want more pictures to sell to the tabloids. Aspen is running after me, her heels clacking loudly.

“Cal! Stop!”

My feet meet the pavement in fast strides. I can’t talk; I’m too pissed off, and fuck, I’m drunk. And something has been stirring within me all day. I’m confused as to what. I’m trying so hard to keep everything locked up tight, but Aspen makes me feel. She’s always made me feel. From the moment I heard her voice, before I even saw her beautiful face, she’s been embedded so deep in me. The guilt assaults me again. My conscience tells me I shouldn’t have these feelings for Aspen; it’s wrong for my heart to race when she’s near me. As if I have any control over how she makes me feel. It’s right then that I realize why I’ve been feeling like I have today. It’s my wife’s birthday.Fuck my life.It’s my wife’s fucking birthday, and here I am out with another woman. Wanting another woman. I can’t do this.

“Cal, stop fucking walking!” She yells.

I stop abruptly and turn around. “Are you telling me that as my boss or my friend?”

She rears back and looks at me incredulously. “Cal, I’m your friend. I mean . . . yes, I’m your boss, and what just happened is going to be a fun time to clean up with Teagan, but I’m asking you to please stop walking and talk to me—as your friend.”

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend!” All my emotions spill out of me. Her face immediately drains.

I rub my hands up and down my face trying to collect myself. Pulling her into the dark alley, I back her up against the brick wall. One hand goes to gently cradle her throat, and the other grabs her hip as I push our bodies close together—I rest my forehead on hers. I close my eyes and whisper the lie I’ve been telling myself, “I don’t want to be your fucking friend. I don’t want you.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue as it leaves my mouth.

She gasps. My mouth is so close to hers I can taste the Patrón from all the shots we had. I want to kiss her, but I know if I do, there will be no turning back for me, and I’m not ready. I’m such an asshole.

My hand slides from her neck and traces across her collarbone and down her arm, erasing that bastard’s touch. Our fingers intertwine, and our foreheads break apart. I just want to be close to her. I’m tormented. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of being broken. I’m tired of wanting her and feeling awful about it. I’m just fucking tired. Our eyes clash. “You come into my life and turn it upside down. I thought I could do this.”

“You promised.” She says softly, tears marring her emerald eyes. “You said you wouldn’t do this to me. You knowmy history—and you say you don’t want me? Fine! I told you not to catch feelings. But if that’s the case, Cal, if you really don’t want me, then what was that bullshit back there with the guy I was dancing with? Huh?”

“Well, what was that shit with the bartender? Huh? What was that?” I point in the direction of the club. “You’re being a fucking hypocrite, Aspen.”

“Me?” She pats her chest, then digs into mine with every poke of her pointy red-polished nail. “You’re the one who takes all my secrets, all my confessions, and hoards them, but you give me nothing in return! You’re locked up like Fort Knox. When I ask about your life, you give me nothing. Nothing! You redirect or change the subject. I asked you what it was like where you grew up, and your answer was, ‘It was cold.’ Like, what kind of fucking answer is that? What does that even mean? So yeah, I might be a hypocrite, but so are you . . . and what’s more is you’re a fucking coward too.” She swipes a finger under her eye to wipe away a stray tear, shakes our hands apart, then she pushes me off her.

“It was cold because I was fucking homeless, Aspen! Okay?” I yell. I rub my palms over my face, gathering myself. “Nights wherever I could lay my head on a bench were fucking cold. Trying to make sure I was safe and in a well-lit place where some creep wouldn’t try to violate me in my sleep was terrifying. I was a homeless child with a cracked-out mother. Is that what you want to hear? Because it sure the fuck isn’t what I want to discuss. It’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t go around sharing that tidbit of information in casual conversation.”

With her fingertips spread over her lips, she gasps, her eyes wide with the realization I presented her. “Cal, I’m sor—”

“I just need to go home. We can talk this out when we are both sober. I’m getting a ride.” I say softly as I cut her off. Idon’t want her pity. I pull up the app on my phone and order a ride for us.

“Well, that’s not surprising, Callan Miles. A man’s back is something I’m used to,” she cries, brushing away her tears. “Go on! Leave! It should be easy for you. It’s been easy for everyone else,” she yells.

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