Page 9 of Fall for Me

I’d tried to right away, in the ER, but he’d been beside himself, him and Cass and Jude crowding around Chelsea’s side. Later, in her room, he’d been so withdrawn, I’d tried to talk to him and he’d reared back like an angry dog. So I’d stayed until Cass insisted I go home to sleep.

Now, the further away it got, the harder it was for me to think of what to say to him.

I hurt your sister, Eli.

Irrevocably.

I didn’t mean to, but that’s just the way it is with me. People around me get hurt. They die. And I come out clean.

That wouldn’t make sense to him. An I’m sorry would be better. But those words were hollow as hell. I didn’t know what to say to Eli.

Maybe I never would. Maybe I’d lose him too—the best friend I’d ever known, who’d been with me through everything.

I felt sick at the thought. I turned around, grasping my hair and gazing out in the direction of the Quince Valley.

The gazebo.

I’d bought this piece of property with money I’d saved from working all through my teens at Reilly, and with the money mom left me when she passed. I’d wanted a place where I wouldn’t be disturbed. Quiet. Alone. And I wanted to be able to see the Quince River. It looked like the property ended where the trees thinned out with this view, but it didn’t. Fifteen feet down a steep path there was another stretch of grass, about 250 square feet, shaped loosely like a wide-based triangle. It ended in a sharp cliff at the apex of the ridge.

This was my favorite place. It was where I liked to go when I wanted to truly hide. It was where I went when I needed to remind myself of why I existed the way I did. Solitarily. Head down, focused on building up Reilly and Sons. Avoiding anything resembling a real relationship—making sure no one got too close.

Doing penance for Kevin.

I both hated and loved it here.

Loved it because even if someone came looking for me, they wouldn’t be able to see me. Because it was down a steep incline, it was sheltered from the rest of the property, but opened up wide onto the valley below. I’d always thought about building a structure of some kind down there—a screened-in gazebo. Something simple, but big enough for some austere furniture. A table and chairs, a daybed. Somewhere to escape even my own place. Where I could finally, maybe, inoculate myself from that panicky feeling I got when I stared at the Quince too long.

Because that’s why I hated it, too. Looking at the river that cut through our valley—the centerpiece of the view and the reason this place was as beautiful as it was—always dredged up that earlier memory, the one just as bad as the crash. Ancient and etched into my bones.

I didn’t come here to think about the gazebo, I knew then.

I came because I knew that old memory was the one thing that could push the crash—and Chelsea—from my mind. It hit me now, as reliable and familiar as my own face in the mirror.

Golden light that should have been beautiful. Then the jerk of my fishing line.

Then, rushing water and the tug of a current pulling me down.

Silence, interrupted by bursts of roaring water, orange-pink light, and that voice calling my name.

A knife sliced through my heart.

Good. The hurt of that memory took over.

But then I heard the echo of Chelsea’s laugh in the cab of my truck. I pinched my eyes shut, but I only saw Chelsea’s eyes, twinkling, blinking in slow motion. Her lips, plush and open. I’d wanted to kiss those lips so badly. That was my sin. I should have been aware of everything outside that truck. I should have seen the lights before they were too bright and too fast.

I ran my hand through my hair, picturing Chelsea how I last saw her, asleep in that hospital bed, that thick bandage covering half her face. The nurse said she might not remember what had happened, that her mind might protect her from the trauma by blanking out the incident. Good. I prayed she wouldn’t.

I looked out over the ridge, considering, not for the first time, if things would be better if I just shrunk into this land. If I put up a giant fence with a lock on it. Became a recluse: that weird old man kids told scary stories about.

But I couldn’t do that to Pop. I had to keep going with growing the business. I had to build something he could finally admit was good, even with only one son working with him. I sighed, heading back across my property. He couldn’t stop me from doing some paperwork here in my home office. Fine-tuning my already fine-tuned proposal to Cass, even if it never saw the light of day. Put this damn business shirt to good use.

A rumble sounded—an engine, coming up the dirt road.

My stomach lurched. As Eli’s truck with its distinctive red stripe down the side came into view, it hit me that I knew this was going to happen. If I didn’t go to him, he’d come to me.

A spasm of nerves danced through me as he cut the engine. This was good. This needed to happen.

I wasn’t sure what I expected to see on my best friend’s face as he jumped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Rage. Betrayal, maybe.

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