Page 21 of Don't Fall

Chapter Five

Tessa

After a much-needed night of dreamless sleep and solid rest, I wake up the following morning feeling unusually confident about my life. Sleep will do that I suppose. Or maybe it’s just that total exhaustion has the opposite effect and I spend a great deal of my life in that state of sleep deprived existence.

Dick curled over my arm and pressed to my chest, I stumble my way out into the living room just in time to see Drea swing the front door open and wander in. It occurs to me somewhat too late that telling Lane about Drea’s busting in tendencies would have been a good idea last night. On the upside, Drea nearly always has pants on.

“Did you know you left your phone over here yesterday?” She swings her leg over the back of the couch and the rest of her follows in a plop on the cushions.

“That explains how I made it through eight hours of sleep without being woken up even once.” I wander toward her and the corner of my bulky rubber case peeking out from under a stack of junk mail, both of which are in her outstretched hand, ready for the taking.

“I’ve heard it jingle about three times since I’ve been up. No calls though. Just texts. I would have woken you up otherwise,” she explains but there’s no need. I know she would have let me know if she thought it was important.

Breath catches in my throat when it sinks in. I wonder how long it’ll be before I have to worry about missing important calls again. The last few years where Aunt Edi was living up North, every call from her was a priority. But, she’s the only one who’s ever held that status in my world. Outside of Drea, I can’t even think of anyone off the top of my head I’d bother answering for. Honestly, I’d rather people just text me anyway.

When I peel the phone out from the pile of envelopes, I see her name at the top of the screen instantly. I figured it’d be her.

“Miriam.” Aunt Edi’s youngest daughter and the only one who wasn’t pissed that I got the condo.

She nods, her focus on the TV she just turned on. “I saw. You going to call her?”

I’m scanning the messages as we speak. “Probably just send her a text. She was just checking to make sure I made it home alright.”

Drea laughs, but it’s at something she’s watching. Then she remembers we’re having a conversation. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Never mind, dude,” I shake my head, chuckling at the lost look on her face. Early morning Drea is about as coherent as drunk Drea.

I move into the kitchen and automatically find myself in front of the coffee maker. Lane already made some. God love him.

“Want some coffee?”I let the sugar pour into my mug an extra count. All summer long, Aunt Edi’s oldest, Meredith, spent her mornings shaming me into drinking my coffee severely under-sweetened, reminding me repeatedly of her diabetes, and when that didn’t work, pointing out just how much having me there was adding to her grocery expenses. Apparently, sugar wasn’t even on her shopping list before I got there.

“Are you offering me backwash and grounds or a for real cup of coffee?” Drea calls over from the couch where her eyes are still glued to the screen.

“A for real cup. Mind you, it will include both by the time you near the end, but what you do when you get to the backwash and grounds is entirely up to you.”

“Creamer,” she announces, as if that’s a complete sentence.

I’m not sure we have any. We. Weird.

My head hidden in the fridge in search of a flavored milk substitute, I miss his entrance until I hear him.

“Good Morning.” Lane has a pleasant morning voice. Of course, he’s already had his coffee, so that probably helps.

“Professor Michael,” Drea chirps, clearly suppressing a giggle.

“It’s Lane,” I correct her, retrieving the creamer and pulling my head back out of the fridge. “Does he look like he has Michael hair to you?”

She drops her head to her left shoulder, curiously investigating his head. It’s a nice head. Even when he’s glowering at me. Which he’s doing right now.

“I’m gonna grow it out. And slick it back. Or maybe, maybe I’ll get it cut into a mullet. What are ya gonna call me then, huh?”

It’s my turn to glower. “Nothing you wanna hear me say to your face.”

“Ron!” Drea chimes in, like it’s a game or something. “Ron is totally a mullet name!”

Lane glares at her, speechless, then redirects it at me. “Out of curiosity, how many people have keys to this place?”

“Like, locally? Or nationwide?”

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