Page 100 of Break Your Fall

I reach off to the side, grabbing the stereo remote from the bar and lowering the volume, the music now sounding like a nice background noise instead of a front row seat at a concert, and she turns back to me, meeting my eyes with parting lips that I want to taste again. And again. And again.

“You’re gonna be on the walls,” I say instead with a smile as I move closer still.

“I am,” she squeals and jumps into my arms.

I catch her and squeeze her with a laugh. “That’s so awesome, Reyna.” I breathe her in as she settles against me, her fingers gliding through my hair at the nape of my neck. “You smell so good,” I whisper into her hair and she gasps, a soft sound that would’ve been inaudible if her mouth wasn’t so close to my ear. My whole body feels that gasp.

“That’s the food,” she says through a shaky laugh, then pulls back with wide eyes, her hands now gripping my arms. “Right? Please tell me the food smells good,” she presses in a panic as she faces the pot again.

“It doesn’t smellburnt, which is good,” I appease through a half-tease as I peer down at the bubbling steam from over her shoulder. “What is it?” I ask in a way that makes her laugh.

“Black pepper and parmesan spaghetti.” There’s so much pride in her voice that I grin. “I wanted something easy and pasta’s pretty easy. I might add some tomatoes.”

Now I’m biting my lip, fighting a laugh as she tries to lift the noodles with a spatula.

“Aren’t tomatoes already in the sauce?” My laugh escapes through the serious question.

“So?” Reyna says as she looks back to meet my eyes with bent brows, then she shifts, jabbing her finger into my chest with a playful squint. “Are you trying to sabotage my dinner?”

“No,” I drag out with unwavering amusement on my face as I reach in the side drawer and present the spaghetti fork. “But you might have better luck with this.”

She taps my chest once as she eyes the fork, then snatches it from my hand with a scrunched smile. “I knew that.”

She sets the fork aside with the spatula and sighs as I reach around her to lower the heat. “I’m nervous.” My draw back is slow as I look down at her, searching her stare, giving her the space to turn to me. “I invited my sister, too, and she can cook, and I want her to like my cooking, even though Ican’t cook,” she emphasizes with a pointedly wide stare before sighing back against the counter. “And I wanna celebrate being on the walls, but I’m nervous.”

I meet her apprehension with a soft smile. “It’s gonna be great, Reyna.”

She side-eyes me through her lashes. “That’s what my dad said.”

“And he’s right. You’re gonna be on the walls,” I say again, teasing and encouraging at once with a goofy hand gesture that makes her laugh.

“I am,” she says back, then sighs again, and I can see the doubt in her eyes before I hear it in her words. “It could just be because I’m his daughter, but—”

“It’s not,” I cut in, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. You’re talented and you know it. You’ve worked like hell and you deserve this.”

Reyna’s smile and nod builds slow as she holds my stare. “Well. Speaking of talented.Yourbrushstroke isn’t so bad.”

Her painting, my added words, the only ones she should ever have in her head, come into my mind right away, and my cheeks heat. “You noticed.”

“Uh huh,” she chirps, crossing her arms like she’s unimpressed, but there’s a playful purse to her lips.

I nod through my relief. “You’re not mad.”

She shakes her head, a warmth in her eyes. “It’s a completed piece now. It’s everything it should’ve been.” She drags in a breath, a flush to her cheeks and a smile through the tears building in her eyes. “It’s one of the best things you’ve done for me.”

I breathe a laugh with the same warmth in my eyes that also heats my face as I reach out and thumb away the tear that falls down one of her cheeks. She swipes away the other, gleaming up at me, my words having earned me this, a reaction I wanted that I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d get from her, and I feel like I could die happy right now. If she can’t help letting people’s words get inside her head, I hope she can let it be me and mine.

A loud sizzle of water slithers into my ears and ruins this feeling, reminding me of the sizzling water in my parents’ kitchen and the mess I left behind.

Reyna’s face shifts with mine, concern meeting my returned torment. “Where’d you go?”

I smile despite myself at her echo of the question, then sigh out, “To my dad.” And without a blink, I finally tell her. “I’m not going to Blareton.”

It only takes a second for her concern to deepen, her jaw a slow drop as she pushes off the counter, close enough to me now that I can feel her warmth. “What? When? Do they know—”

“I did everything I had to do,” I summarize, the words quick and more distant than I intend them to be, and I make a face at my inability to be able to talk about this the way I should. But I push through the unease enough to say, “It’s official. I’m not going. And I told my parents, and … my dad said I’m throwing my life away.” A disbelieving laugh trails the words as I look down and shake my head, my voice lowering with, “It’s over.” The needed conversation, the hashing out of feelings. “It’s over,” I say again on a whisper for my future, for the nagging insecurity.

“It’s beginning,” Reyna amends, the soft touch of her hand on my arm drawing my eyes back to her steadfast greens. She rubs my skin and I relax against her comfort. “It’s beginning,” she says again on a whisper of her own, this one sounding likewe’re beginning, but I can’t go there yet.

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