Page 84 of Break Your Fall

That runs in families.

I feel it every time I drink, how I want to keep going, how I come closer and closer to messing up the good I have in my life.

My eyes trail toward the open door and my ears pick up clanging from the kitchen. I push out of the bed and run on tiptoes to the hall, sneaking and shutting myself inside the bathroom. The pieces of last night are filling the holes in my memory and I need a moment.

I distract myself by using some mouthwash, watching the swoosh of my cheeks in the mirror, seeing myself as a hungover squirrel hoarding nuts. I spit into the sink and rinse it out, splashing water on my face. Tommy fills my head again as I use one of his towels to dry off, his smell both relaxing and sustaining my nerves.

Tommy was my best friend before I really knew what a best friend is. I’ve loved him too much. I’ve needed him too much. He was always the one I felt like I couldn’t touch.

And now … he’s my Tommy.

And I’m his Reyna.

I grip the edges of the sink until my heart calms, then face the boy who’s responsible for every racing beat.

We almost slam into each other as I pop out from the bathroom, jolting to a stop to avoid the collision, his arms out to catch me. He’s always catching me, breaking every fall. He breathes a laugh as he takes me in.

“I was coming to check on you.”

I muster a smile that fades with my reply. “I’m okay.”Just embarrassed and suddenly weak in my knees.

He studies me, his eyes examining like he’s trying to make sure that’s true. I sway like I’m still intoxicated. Because that’s exactly how I’m feeling under his gaze.

The front door flies open.

“You’re up.”

A few more breaths pass between me and Tommy before our locked eyes break away to Camille who’s carrying a stack of three take-out boxes from A Flying Grit to the bar.

“What’s going on?” I ask to shift the focus, moving around Tommy, closer to Camille as she sets the boxes down.

“Heard about your rough night, and I brought your favorite.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling Tommy behind me before he moves slowly to settle across from Camille at the bar. “But I have a shift soon, and I have, like, less than an hour to get myself together, so. . .” I take a step to the side, in the direction of the door, remembering I still need my sandals, feeling exposed and wanting another minute to myself.

Camille eyes my subtle movement, then eyes Tommy who looks from me to the boxes between them. “Well,” she says, removing the top box from the stack, and I’m thankful she’s keeping the questions in her stare to herself as she holds it out to me. “Take it with you.”

I take the box as she tells me to, and the reflexive action makes me want to hand it back when I gape down at her hand. “You’re growing out your nails?”

“Unfortunately,” she says with a sigh at her long, bare claws. “It helps with my newfound hobby. And Julian’s not complaining,” she adds, her tone suggestive and I’m expecting myself to wince, to feel a pang in my heart at the thought of Camille using her nails on Julian and the blasé way she’s planted the image like we can joke about sharing him now, but I don’t.

Tommy closes his eyes with a subtle shake of his head, and Camille’s stare is apologetic, like the words slipped out on their own and she wasn’t trying to be Cruella.

“Sorry,” she says, and now I’m shaking my head.

“No, it’s okay. He didn’t complain with me, either.”

I see Tommy’s stare whip to me in my periphery as a proud—admittedly a little smug—smile graces my lips. I feel like we’ve crossed over a line in our friendship that I’ve believed was drawn in the sand for good.

“Okay, another conversation that’s one bigT.M.I.,” Tommy chimes with a pointed look at Camille now as she holds my stare with silent amusement.

“Be careful, Tommy,” she warns, her head a slow roll in his direction. “I have a dog living with me that can still get lost.”

I chuckle at her subtle threat to move Banks back in here as Tommy warns back, “Do it and die.”

Camille smiles. “F.U.”

“Is he still mourning his old toothbrush?” Tommy asks her as he separates the boxes, placing them in their respective spots between them. His eyes find mine again, pulling for me to stay here, to come join them, but I’ve seized up, almost frozen right where I am.

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