Page 27 of Fall for Me

Seamus

“Seamus.” The word was whispered, but I knew my name had never sounded better. It turned from something I never thought of to something sweet and good.

“Seamus!”

My eyes flickered, and in a wallop, I remembered where I was and who I’d found on my back porch.

She was staring right at me.

My stomach jolted. I sat upright.

Chelsea had gotten out of the hammock and was on her feet, leaning against the post it was hooked to, across from me. I’d turned a light on inside before sitting out here and it cast her in a warm glow, alighting her unbandaged cheekbone; her shoulder, the curve of her breast…

I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, feeling slightly woozy. “I didn’t mean—I fell asleep.”

“Join the club,” she said. Then Chelsea stepped down to the ground and sat on the porch, leaning against the pole. She looked down. “I’m sorry I just turned up here. Kind of weird, I know. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“You could have hung out inside if you wanted. I don’t lock my doors.”

I don’t know why I said that, even if it was true. No one ever came up here. I didn’t lock my truck, either. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Behind her, the girls clucked. They needed food. My stomach growled. I did too. I dropped my hand back down. “What are you doing here, Chelsea? Is Eli going to come and knock me out again?”

She smiled, and something twinged inside of me. I had to look away, out to the stars above the tree line. How long had I been passed out?

“He doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not really sure what I’m doing here. I guess… well, I got discharged from the hospital today and the prospect of going home, my siblings everywhere… it was too much.”

She must have seen the question on my face—why here?

“Yesterday, when I came here, and when I stood out there,”—she looked toward the ridge—“I felt like I could breathe. It’s as if this place is at the end of the world, and that’s where I feel like I am now.”

Something went tight inside of me. I’d never articulated the thought before, but I knew that was exactly how I felt about this place. It was why I was so comfortable here. Unless I was swinging a hammer or a baseball bat on the field, I always felt like I was standing on the periphery of life, looking in at everyone else enjoying themselves. That’s what this place was. Far in the outer reaches. Of town, of the road. Of everything.

“Yeah,” I said after a moment. “I understand.”

She gestured out toward the ridge. “Would it be okay if I went out there? I just… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Is that okay?”

You can go anywhere you want here, Chelsea. I’m at your mercy.

“It’s my favorite place to look at the stars,” I said. Then embarrassment shot through me.

But she didn’t blink. “Well, I guess you better come with me then.”

I considered her a moment, then got up, flicking on the string lights running the length of the porch. Then Chelsea Kelly and I walked across my grassy field to the ridge through the trees. It was dark out here, the only light coming from the moon casting a silvery light across the trees and over the shape of the woman walking next to me, her footsteps quiet in the grass. Yesterday I’d seen her wince when she walked, so I kept my stride at half-length, allowing her to take her time.

When we got to the edge, I saw the way her eyes took in the grassy space down below.

“Here,” I said, holding out my hand.

But I saw in the pale moonlight hitting her face that she was still in pain. It didn’t look as bad as yesterday—presumably because she was wearing sneakers—but it still looked painful.

She reached her hand out and placed her hand in mine. It was smooth and warm, and heat spread up my skin at her touch.

I didn’t know how long she was going to be here, or if she’d ever come back, but I couldn’t make anything out of it. I knew she probably wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to get away from her family. I loved the Kelly’s, but they were a lot. I didn’t know how I’d cope with four siblings, especially when they were all older. Kevin used to tell me what to do, but I couldn’t remember it being annoying now. I could hardly remember anything of our life together before he died. Everything was eclipsed by the memory of the end.

When we reached the bottom of the path, I pulled my hand away, but Chelsea grasped harder. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t trust myself not to fall.”

My stomach jumped, but I readjusted so her whole hand fit in mine. “I’ve got you.”

If she looked up, I couldn’t tell—I was training my eyes toward the edge of this clearing, where we were walking to. I pulled her to a stop a few feet from the edge. Here, there was no obstruction to our view.

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