Page 49 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“In what way?” Nan asked softly.

“That it was a secret I was meant to keep. That it happened and I needed to bury it to move on. It wasn’t healthy for me.”

Nan sighed. “I messed that up, then, didn’t I?”

Jase shook his head. “You did what you thought was best, Nan. I know that. And I wasn’t particularly forthcoming about feelings and all that.”

“Even if I didn’t mean to, it still hurt you, how I handled it, didn’t it?”

Wave.

Memories of Cerys telling him that he only wanted to storm out of a conversation when someone prodded at something that hurt. He stayed with it. And was honest. “Yeah, Nan. It did. But I don’t blame you for it.”

His nan nodded sadly.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to call you to make you feel like crap, Nan. I’m sorry.”

“No, Jase. Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I look forward to hearing it. You’ve mentioned Cerys a lot in this call. And don’t tell me she’s just a friend because I know you better than that. You never talk about the women in your life.”

Jase paused and looked over the lake.

Wave.

“She’s good for me, Nan. And she’stoogood for me. But somehow, I’m growing on her. Any tips on winning her over?”

“You want to know the thing that made your granddad so special to me? He was a tough as nails miner with his mates. All bravado and cussing and footie scores. But with me, he was tender. He listened. He made me feel beautiful, even on my shittiest of days.”

Tenderness, listening, caring about someone more than me.Holy fuck. He was going to need a frontal lobotomy or something to conquer that shit. But for once, he was willing to try. “Thanks, Nan. Listen. I need to go make breakfast, but I’ll call you again when I’m back in Detroit. Love you.”

“Love you too, lad.”

An hour later, he walked up the stairs with their breakfast on a tray. He took a big breath outside of Cerys’s bedroom door before knocking and pushing it open.

Cerys lay on her back in bed in the ridiculous onesie. One hand was up near her face, the other tucked beneath the soft white bedding. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, her pink lips slightly open as she slept.

Jase placed the tray down next to the bed, and then sat on the edge closest to Cerys. He stroked a finger along her forehead, moving some of the hair out of the way. “Cerys,” he whispered softly, aware that the last time he’d woken her, she’d come to with such a start she’d rolled off the sofa. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sunshine.”

Cerys began to move, eyes closed. A long stretch, followed by rolling onto her side to face him before she finally opened them. “Morning,” she mumbled.

Jase leaned forward and kissed her gently, smiling against her lips when her hand snuck around the back of his neck and held him to her.

“I brought you breakfast.”

Cerys released him and scootched herself up the bed. “You did?”

“Yeah, thought it might be nice, given it’s Valentine’s Day.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “That’s really lovely of you. Thank you.”

“Don’t be too excited. We’re running low on food, seeing we were meant to leave yesterday.” He lifted the tray between the two of them. “Coffee, toast from the last of the bread, some cereal.”

Cerys looked over everything on the tray. “It’s perfect.”

He reached across the blanket to squeeze her knee. “What made you come to Detroit, Cerys? Was it to get to know your dad?”

Cerys shook her head. “Surprisingly, no. He’s repeatedly shown he has no intention of filling that role. I enjoyed playing piano but didn’t love being a professional pianist. I wasn’t quite in the top percent of those who get full-time orchestra gigs. So I was part-time, which didn’t add up to enough work. I tried doing musical theatre gigs, but I didn’t love being tucked under the stage. A friend from uni had opened a small recording studio and I did some freelancing for him, playing on other people’s stuff—which I enjoyed, but not as much as I enjoyed the production side of things. Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No.” He placed a hand on her calf as she bit into the toast. He grabbed the spoon to the cereal. “Tell me. I want to know.”

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