Page 56 of Even if You Fall

I wasn’t sure if my heart flatlined or if it was just going so fast I couldn’t register it anymore.

Either way, a dull sound of amusement tumbled from me as another wave of dizziness washed over me. “What?”

“You must’ve missed that between everyone talking out there,” he mumbled. “Couples share rooms.”

“We aren’t a couple,” I said weakly.

His eyes drifted up and locked onto me for long, heated moments before he said, “I’m aware. I’ll sleep on the floor. Doesn’t change that this is our room.” Clearing his throat, he pushed from the door and said, “I’ll, uh...I’ll take one of the other rooms once everyone leaves tomorrow night.”

Grabbing the handle, he opened the door, only to turn back to me. His lips parted and forehead pinched like he was struggling over what to say.

But with a guarded, conflicted look my way, he slipped from the room and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with my traitorous heart and my ridiculous wants and,Oh my gosh, why am I so dizzy?

I sank to the bed and dropped my head into my hands, willing the sudden vertigo to dissipate, all while the cause of it plagued my thoughts with his unfairly distracting looks and unexpected words.

Like with Owen, I knew it would be so easy to believe Adam. It would be so easy...and it would end up being another mistake. Only this time, I wasn’t sure I would survive it.

By the time I left the room, my bags were still packed, my lungs still felt too tight, and everything spun if I turned my head too fast, so I made a mental note not to as I locked my smile inplace. After all, my pain was meant for me, and me alone. And I knew with my current smile, no one in that house would ever suspect anything was wrong. I knew I would eventually come close to falling for my own pretense.

Nearly twenty years of pretending I was better than fine—that I wasgreat, even—had taught me as much.

The only hiccup in my plan was Adam Thatcher.

I reminded myself as I walked that he wouldn’t get to me. He wouldn’t lie to me with pretty words, all for the sake of tricking me—of making me fall.

But when I stepped into the kitchen where he was having an animated conversation with his family, I found myself trapped in those captivating eyes that seemed to be trying to convince himself of the same thing.

“This time, I’m sure of it,” Adam’s youngest sister loudly claimed from where we were all gathered in the large living room late that night—everyone curled up on the massive couches and plush chairs. Blankets only partially covered most of us because Adam and the rest of his siblings continued getting up to throw things at each other or do hilarious reenactments of whatever embarrassing story they were telling of each other.

And I was surprised to realize how much I was truly enjoying this time, snuggled under the softest blanket I’d ever touched, beside Adam Thatcher.

I hadn’t once thought about going back to the room to grab a book. All my worries from earlier had melted away sometime during dinner, though everyone was still sure Adam and I were a thing. And even though I clearly didn’t belong here, not one of the people in the room had made me feel that way. With every story told of their childhood, I was eagerly looped in, as if Adam’s family couldn’t wait for me to know all about their family.

It probably should’ve made me feel worse because I wasn’t the person they thought I was—the person they wanted me to be—but it didn’t. If anything, it made me long for this. It made me want more days and nights of this loud, loving,realfamily that was so unlike my own.

“This time,” Sam echoed Ellie disbelievingly.

Ellie took the pillow—that was probably originally Adam’s—from behind her and chucked it at Sam as she claimed, “I mean it!”

“She means it,” Adam mocked and instinctively ducked just as his mom appeared behind us, swatting for the back of his head.

How he’d heard her coming above the light music playing through the room, laughter, and arguing, I had no idea. But he just glanced over his shoulder, offering her a mischievous smirk until she relented and held a muffin box between us. One ofsomany currently in the kitchen because Adam and I hadn’t been the only ones to swing by the bakery...all three of his siblings had too.

I think my stomach literally threatened me at the thought of them.

Adam hadn’t been lying—his mom really did try to feed people too much.

“Oh my gosh,” I began as Adam took one, my eyebrows drawing together in apology as I glanced between him and his mom. “You’re so sweet, and such a generous host, but I might need to be rolled back to the room as it is. I might never move from this spot again if I eat another bite.”

She laughed as if the idea was as amusing as it was foreign. “I need to feed my kids,” she told me seriously, my heart wrenching at the sentiment because she’d been looking at me as she said that. She’dmeantme. “Eat.”

“I—”

“She meansthanks,” Adam said for me, grabbing a second muffin and shoving it toward me as he did.

I brought one of my hands out from beneath the blanket and grabbed the muffin instinctively, my too-full stomach momentarily forgotten when my fingers brushed along Adam’s and lingered because he didn’t pull back right away.

But he eventually did. And my stomach was all too happy to remind me it was absolutely not okay with me even holding food right then.

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