Page 20 of Fall Wherever They May

“Are you creeping on me again? Ooooh, what do we have here?” I joke.

I cast my eyes down at his books to see what he’s into. He tries to hide them behind his back, but I’ve already read part of the title for one of them. His eyes find the smut material in my hands, and he gives me one raised eyebrow. I give him one back as he responds, “It’s nothing.”

“Did that title say self-help for the recovering pretentious asshole?” I ask in jest, chuckling.

His hazel eyes flick from my books up to my eyes. “It’s sad that you read romance novels to live vicariously through your fictional characters. Fuck, it must be a lonely life living in a real world where nobody wants you.”

My head rears back as if he slapped me. Actually, I wish he would have slapped me because at least that sting would go away quicker, where this one will linger. All the blood drains from my face, and my eyelids burn. I deserved that. If he was looking to hit a mark, he just hit the bullseye with that one. I was only kidding around, but given our history, I shouldn’t have said it. Plus, I’m his boss, so what I said was unprofessional and uncalled for.

Sometimes I get carried away and my mouth just pops off. Cal hasn’t said anything to me in weeks, and I go and ruin everything by running my mouth. Why? I turn my head trying to fight off the tears and mask my hurt feelings.

“Asp—”

“Cal!” Tucker runs down the aisle, bypassing me. “What are you doing here?” They give fist bumps.

Quickly, I avert my eyes towards the bookshelf and pretend to look for a book, so neither one of them can see the unshed tears burning in my eyes.

“What up, Tuck? I was out and about and thought I would grab a couple of books that would help you. This one is on mental strength for young athletes, and this one is just some hockey stories for kids your age. And this one is for me.”

“Oh cool! Thank you, Cal.”

“Yes,” I mutter, “Thank you, Cal.”

I want to turn my head; to watch their interaction and see the way Tucker’s face lights up, but I don’t. I trace my fingertips along the spine of the books in front of me as I slowly make my way down an aisle, giving them a little time and space to talk. Okay, so that’s total bullshit. My nose is running, and I need to sniff, and if I do, Cal will know that I’m crying, so I’m trying to distance myself. As I move further away from them, I sniff and swipe at my tears.

“Aspen,” Cal pleads. “Can we talk, please?”

“Come on, Tucker, we still need to buy your hockey skates.” I call over my shoulder.

“Aspen, wait.”

I make my way to the register. I can’t let him see me cry. No man will ever see me cry . . . well, except the guy ringing up our books who’s giving me a concerned look. Tucker joins me at the counter, and I throw on my sunglasses and grab our bag of books. Cal is behind me, ready to check out. I don’t want to face him, but I know I need to. With no one else in line behind us and the sunglasses in place, acting as a shield between him and my emotions, it’s a little easier to face him.

“Tucker, I forgot you’re going to need a bookmark for your books; go ahead and pick one out.”

“Yes! Thanks, Mom.”

“Cal,” And fuck it; I’m not a coward, so I take off my glasses and look him in the eyes like an adult. “I’m truly sorry for what I said to you. I was honestly kidding, but with our history, I can see how you wouldn’t take it that way—”

“Asp—” I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Please, let me finish. I was unprofessional, and my comment was uncalled for. You are nothing but good to Tucker, and I’m so grateful for that. I thought I was lightening up the mood when really, I was setting the tone for what you said to me.” With a bookmark in hand, Tucker reaches us. I hand over a ten-dollar bill so he can check out. “Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

I put my sunglasses on, place the books in my oversized purse, and put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder to guide him out the door. With my thoughts in the clouds, I’m not paying attention to what’s going on around us. A crowd gathers around Tucker and me. I’m shoved in all directions. Cameras flash. One minute Tucker is standing beside me with confusion mirroring mine, and the next, he’s on the ground crying. I’m in a state of shock. Before I can bend down to pick Tucker up from the ground, he’s lifted into the air, then strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in close and away from the crowd.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cal

Have you ever heard the phrase: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all?” Yeah, we’ve all heard it. For the past few weeks, it’s a motto I’ve lived by, and that’s why I’ve stayed away from Aspen, even though I was supposed to help her. I gave Tuck information to pass on to her and have been pretty well mute. That is, until she said something about me being a pretentious asshole. I was instantly fired up, but the moment the words flew out of my mouth, the stricken look on her face and tears in her eyes made me want to take those words back.

When we’re bantering, I don’t think about what I’m saying, but her defeated expression did something to me I didn’t like, and it will haunt me. In that moment, I didn’t like myself. And after her heartfelt apology and the realization that she was only kidding, I felt sickened by my words and actions.

Standing at the counter, ready to check out, I hear a cacophony of shouts and voices. I drop the books onto the counter and run out of the store. Everything is utter chaos; people are shoving, lights are flashing, and shouting voices fill the air. Someone pushes Aspen, and I see red. All the bloodrushes to my head, and everything goes dark for a split second. I’m sprinting towards them when Tuck is knocked to the ground.

I don’t think; I just jump into action. Picking up Tucker, I cradle him in my arms with his face buried into my neck, grab Aspen around the waist, and guide her into the back seat of my black Chevy Silverado. She scoots over to the middle and puts on her seatbelt while I strap Tuck in, all the while, my truck is being surrounded by the paparazzi.

Quickly, I hop in the drivers seat. With one hand on the passenger’s side headrest, I turn my head, look behind me, and make sure I don’t run over the invading assholes while I reverse. Once we make it onto the main road, I drive for about ten minutes to put space between them and us. Pulling into a burger joint, I put the truck in park, jump out, and open the rear passenger door. Tears stream down Aspen’s cheeks.

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