Page 31 of Fall For You

“Okay well, I’m tired now,” Vi says as she tugs the bedclothes closer, as she curls up on her side, as her eyes slide shut. “I’m just going to take a little nap. You’ll still be here when I wake up, won’t you?”

“Yes,” I tell her, as I turn off the light. “I will. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

I don’t think she means it literally. I don’t think she’s actually expecting me to be here, in her room, when she wakes up. But, then again, what the hell do I know about any of this?

There’s an armchair on the other side of the room and I settle into it. And no, I don’t plan on staying here all night, either. But for a little while, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

As the silence deepens, my fears begin to reemerge. I’m not sure if I can do this. The lizard pokes his head back out of the shadows.

Time to go, he whispers viciously.Time to go. Time to go. Time to go. go. go. go. go.

My mouth grows dry. My palms begin to sweat. My chest tightens… I roll a metaphorical rock in front of thecave entrance, cutting off the chant, the panic, the flood of adrenaline.

Or, at least, that’s how it feels.

I pull a deep breath into my lungs, and then slowly let it out. I can do this. I know the lizard will probably always be with me, and always looking for ways to escape. But for now, I’m the one in control. It feels surprisingly good.

But then, a little while later, when I consider what the future will likely hold—for me, for Vi, for Carter—I feel it start to scrabble again at the edges of my consciousness.

“Fuck you,” I mumble, clenching my fists, clearing my throat, blinking back the tears of grief that have clouded my eyes. “I’m not listening. I’m not going anywhere. I’m digging in. So you can just fuck off. Fuck all the way off.”

And for a little while, it does. And that feels even better.

CHAPTER

NINE

Carter

The first thing I notice,as I blink myself awake, is that it’s morning. And later than usual.

Fuck! Did my alarm not go off?My immediate surge of panic has me struggling to sit up, and—ouch! My head!

For a just a moment, I feel like I’ve become trapped in one of those carnival sideshows; the kind that you only ever see in movies. Usually horror films. I feel like I’m strapped to a revolving wheel while bright, sharp knives are thrown at my head. My initial thought is that I’m sick. Or possibly dying. Then I remember getting drunk last night.

So, it’s just a hangover. It’s nothing fatal. I guess that’s good.

I feel an even bigger sense of relief when I recall my rambling, incoherent call to an exceedingly groggy Luis (some time in the wee hours of the morning) informing him that I would not be in this morning. Or possibly not today. And also, a small amount of guilt—when I also recall his annoyed response: that a fucking note would have sufficed, or a text, or…basicallyanythingother than a call in the middle of the fucking night thatwoke him up, disturbed his sleep and got him out of bed hours earlier than needed.

I chuckle a little now, thinking about it, amused by the memory of his outrage. I’ll think of a way to make it up to him. I swear, I will. Sometime. But definitely not right now.

I close my eyes, prepared to drift peacefully back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that my kitchen is in good hands. But then I remember the reason for last night’s overindulgence. Jo. Aw, fuck.

I crack one eye open and glance at the window, trying to determine what time it is. Trying to calculate where she might be.

It’s a complicated equation. It’s like one of the ones that I used to hate, and frankly sucked at, back when I was in school. I waste a few minutes, and burn through far too many brain cells, trying to calculate what time she might have left, how fast she’s likely driving, whether or not she would stopped somewhere, for food, or gas, or a bathroom break. If I take that total and subtract it from whatever time it is now, and then multiply that by however many miles it is across Texas… Or do I need to divide?

Shit. Whatever. I have no idea. All’s I know is that it’s a great big, wide-ass state and she’s probably still within its borders. For all the goodthatdoes me. I mean, it’s not like she’s going to turn the car around. Not even if I could remember where I left my phone this time around, not even if it’s charged. Not even if I called and begged her not to leave me.

“Jo,” I groan, pulling a pillow over my face, feeling tears start to leak from my eyes. I can’t help wondering why everything is so hard, why heartbreak hurts so much, why nothing I do is ever good enough.

“What’s the matter? What do you need?” an impossible voice impossibly inquires.

I shove the pillow away. “What—” I say, as I narrow my eyes and scowl suspiciously at Jo, who’s perched on the side of the bed, eyeing me with concern. Or, to be more exact, scowling at what had better not be a hallucination.

“Yeah, that’s what I just said,” Jo responds, frowning worriedly. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“—Are you doing here?” I say, finally getting the rest of the question out.

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