Page 2 of Fall to Me
Jaxon revs his engine, the sound of his glass pipes filling my ears before I hear another crunch. My car turns to the side. Everything spins and flips, over and over and over, the contents of my purse flying all around me. My head cracks against the window, then the world goes black.
One
River
TWO YEARS LATER
Bracing my hands on the bathroom counter, I stare at myself in the mirror, running escape routes through my head, while a girl next to me washes her hands. Women are in and out of the stalls, drunk and giggling with their friends. That should be me right now, giggling withmyfriends, but instead, this is what I’m doing. It’s become my routine anytime we go out. I prepare myself for the absolute worst, then hype myself up to have a good time and pretend to be the girl everybody else sees.
Four exits. One behind the bar. One at the end of this hallway. One on the left, behind the DJ booth, and one at the double doors up front. There are plenty of hiding spots if you need one. Which you won’t, so stop this shit.
Drink. Get drunk.
Have fun.
Go out there and give ‘em hell. You can do this.
The pep talk isn’t working. While washing my hands, scenarios continue to play out in my mind. I let out a sigh and give the rubber band on my wrist a few hard snaps. According to my therapist, it’s supposed to help redirect irrational thoughts and feelings.
He’s. Not. Here. River.
My jaw ticks as determination sets in. I need to move the fuck on. I dry my hands, then head out to find my friends, Hannah and Evie, and my sister, Aspen. Well, I say sister . . . Aspen’s not my biological sister. She’s actually my best friend, but she’s my sister in every way that counts. She and her mother had no family of their own until us.
The bass pounds throughout the nightclub. Each beat crashes against my chest and vibrates through the soles of my shoes as I make my way to the group at our table.
“There’s my beautiful sister. Here, I bought you a drink.”
Aspen thrusts a cocktail into my hand, and I wrap my lips around the straw, slurping down the strong concoction until there’s not a single drop left in the glass. Thank God for her. I fucking needed that.
If you couldn’t tell, places like this trigger me. Hell, the smallest things trigger me: a sound, a word, a smell. But it’s places like this that really do me in. I can’t help but think that the man who fills my worst nightmares could be hiding in the thick of the crowd somewhere, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Of course, Aspen doesn’t know any of this, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t deserve to have any more of my issues pushed on her. Plus, we’re all here in Vegas for her and her fiancé Cal’s “single sayonara party.” They’re tying the knot tomorrow, and tonight, I’m not gonna let a damn thing come between her and a good time.
Hannah takes the empty glass out of my hand and replaces it with another drink. My eyes lift to the other side of thetable and lock with Carter’s. He’s Cal’s teammate, best friend, and best man. He’s also the guy who’s been trying to date me since I moved to New York a year ago. For some reason, I find enjoyment in fucking with him, so I ask, “Enjoying the view, Fight Club?”
“I most certainly am,” he smarts off with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Usually, I hide behind a mask of snark while pretending to be normal. Reality is that I’m not normal, and I’m internally freaking the fuck out. Not for long, though. Once I have enough alcohol in my system, I won’t give a shit about a damn thing anymore. I know it’s not a healthy way of dealing with my trauma, and I don’t typically drink like this, but it’s the only way I’m gonna make it through tonight.
I roll my eyes and reach over to grab a full shot glass sitting in front of Carter. After downing the clear liquid, I slam the glass back on the table before turning to the girls.
“Let’s go dance,” I say, grabbing their hands and leading them out onto the dance floor.
A kaleidoscope of flashing lights pulses in the air and drifts across nameless faces before disappearing back into the dark corners of the nightclub. With all the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, now I can finally let my worries go and maybe enjoy myself.
“This Is What You Came For” plays through the speakers, and I raise my arms above my head and let the beat take control of my body. With every movement tethered to the music, my hips sway as I thread my fingers through my hair, lifting it from my damp neck. When I look up, the room seems to blur around me, and my focus is pulled back to Carter.
Standing at the railing beside our table, he laughs with the guys as they watch us dance. Their faces light up with each flash from the strobe-lights as they all clink their shot glasses togetherbefore throwing them back. When Carter sets down his glass, his gaze falls back on me. His eyes are always on me, but this time, instead of looking away, I hold his stare and let my hips move just a little more seductively.
Take that, Carter Graham.
I can’t begin to break down why I like antagonizing him so much. Maybe it’s the fact that when I mess with him, I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. And when he smarts back, he’s never unkind. Actually, he’s pretty funny when he’s not being so serious.
“You like him!” Hannah admonishes, eyes wide and shining with disbelief.
My head whips around. “Do not!” I shoot back.
As the lie spews from my mouth, my mind wanders right back to him again. Not that he or anyone else needs to know he lives rent-free in my head. I mean, how could he not? That man is a six-foot-three, golden-tanned, tattooed Adonis packed with muscles that make my stomach flip. His sandy blond hair is perfectly tousled, like he ran a hand through it and called it a day. And those dimples . . . God, they’re so dangerous they can make any woman drop their panties. Well . . . any woman but me.
Either way, letting my thoughts of him run rampant is far better than acting on them; nothing wrong with a little fantasy, right? Not that I’m admitting to having any of those about him.
