Headfirst Falling Read online

  We’re both breathing heavily, and he grins. “Keep kissing me like that and you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

  I press my lips to the patch of skin at the base of his throat. “I like trouble.”

  “You think you like trouble,” he corrects.

  I roll my eyes and tip my head back against the bed. “I’m starting to think you’re just a big tease.”

  He lifts a brow. “I’ve been called many things. But a tease? That’s a first.”

  I cover my eyes with my arm and groan. “You’re frustrating.”

  His fingers wrap around my wrist and he pulls my arm away from my face. “How so?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and try to get a read on his eyes. The only thing I see is curiosity. “You aren’t picking up what I’m putting down, and I guess it’s driving me a little crazy.”

  He runs his thumb across my jaw and lowers his voice. “It’s not like that.”

  I turn away from the touch. “Stop it. That’s distracting.”

  He lifts his hands and retreats, scooting back and putting some distance between us on the bed.

  “What is it then?” I press.

  He smiles, but it’s uneasy. “I just want to take things slow with you. Is that a crime?”

  “Yes!” I throw one of my hands in the air. “It is a crime. It’s making me feel like a pissed-off, hormonal teenage boy—if that’s not a crime, I don’t know what is.”

  His eyes soften. “Be patient with me, please?”

  I drape my arm over my eyes again but nod. “Okay.”

  He works one of his legs between mine, and before I know it we’re tangled up again. His lips brush my temple when he speaks. “I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

  I slide my arm away from my eyes and see that he’s serious. “Me?” I don’t know why I say it, because I heard him perfectly fine.

  He chuckles. “Yes, Charlie, you.”

  It takes a minute for it to sink in. “Why?”

  “Because it gave me a break from Iraq. Thinking about you was the only thing that could make me forget where I was, so I did it a lot. And for a few hours or minutes, or even seconds, I’d be home with you instead of in the shitty desert. Sometimes I think that’s the only thing that saved me. Many of the men I served with didn’t have an escape. And some of them let their own minds destroy them.”

  If words could break souls, his just broke mine in half. He had my head tucked under his chin the entire time he was speaking, and not being able to see his face is killing me. I twist around and scoot up until we’re face-to-face. For the first time ever, he looks broken. The change is subtle, and the only place it shows is the deepest part of his eyes. Something about seeing him this way makes everything inside of me sad, and I can’t imagine what he must feel like inside.

  I can feel the tears behind my eyes. “Jackson, I—”

  He presses his finger to my lips and smiles. “Don’t. Not yet. I have more to tell you about.”

  I nod and his finger slides away. Then he starts to talk.

  He tells me about how close he was with his squad and how they’d sit around and talk about home when things got bad. Then he tells me about how much Adam talked about Claire and how much he talked about me. When he moves on to Mary Jane, he’s laughing.

  “She left me a voice mail about finding herself,” he says.

  “Did it make you sad?”

  “Hell no.” He grins. “I was an idiot for putting that ring on her finger. And I knew it the second I did it. Adam and I played her message on repeat and had a celebration. We drank a bottle of whiskey and Adam cried actual tears of joy.”

  I roll my eyes. “She’s not that bad.” But even as I say it, I know I’m lying through my teeth, because Mary Jane sucks. Then I realize how much less it hurts when Jackson is the one talking about Adam.

  “You’re right. She wasn’t,” he admits. “I had a broken heart and she knew it, but she stayed with me anyway. I’ll never understand why she did.”

  I swallow hard, because I was the reason for his broken heart. I hate that. That I pushed him away the way I did. I aim to change the subject. “What do you remember most about Iraq?”

  He starts talking about the sand. How it was a pain in the ass, because it was everywhere. That it’s his most vivid memory from Iraq even though he hated it. Which is weird, but he says he can still remember the exact way it smells and tastes.

  We lie side by side in silence after he stops talking, him combing his fingers through my hair and me tracing circles on his chest. I’m not sure how much time has passed when he tilts my face up and kisses me. When he pulls away, he’s staring at me like he can’t believe I’m here. Or that he’s here, maybe. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I ask

  “That it took seven thousand two hundred thirty-five miles and fourteen months in the desert, pouring sand out of my boots, for me to realize what you really mean to me.”

  My entire body melts. I know this is it—the point of no return. And I’m all in.

  * * *

  I sit in my dad’s backyard with my feet dangling over the edge of his pool and swishing through the cool water. It’s hot out today, but there’s a small breeze cooling the air.

  Taylor floats by on a raft, singing along to the music coming from the iPod dock and waving her hand through the air.

  Dad and Billy are at the BBQ pit. And Billy’s wife, Leigh, is asleep on a sun lounge. Oliver is at my dad’s feet, scouring the ground for any dropping scraps.

  Jackson and Devin are on a beer run. I think they’re more into each other than Taylor and me, and she’s been in a wet bikini all day. That’s a serious bromance.

  I stand and towel-dry my legs. Then I head inside to check my hair before they return. The humidity is making it frizz, and I probably look like a mess.

  I stop in the middle of the hallway when I pass a cracked frame on the wall. It’s a picture of Adam and me on my first day of kindergarten. I had on overalls and my hair was in a sloppy ponytail. I wanted braided pigtails that day, but my dad’s skills weren’t up to par, so I got a knotted mess on top of my head instead.

  That day was awful. My dad hugged me and told me he loved me outside of the classroom door. Then he told me that I had to go inside. As soon as he walked away I burst into tears. I wasn’t silent-crying either, or even sniffling...I was sobbing, like can’t-breathe-hiccuping-gasping-because-my-dog/hamster/bird-just-died crying.

  Then Taylor walked up to me and said no one would sit by me if I didn’t stop. So I did. And she sat by me. Before our first snack break of the day she had me pouring an entire bottle of Elmer’s glue into the classroom fish tank. And that was how I got sent to the principal’s office on my very first day of kindergarten. I let her trim my bangs on the second day, and after that we were best friends.

  I travel down the hall a little farther. The next photo I stop at is of Adam and me on the day he left for basic training. It’s the last photograph I ever took with my brother. He’s got a broad smile on his face and his arm is slung over my shoulder. He looks totally confident. I’m smiling too, but my eyes are worried.

  My eyes are completely traitorous. Without them I would have a pretty good poker face, but I can’t really talk about that since they are, in fact, part of my face and are always there to sell me out. That’s how, despite my smile, Adam knew I was freaked, and he wouldn’t let it slide.

  I remember a lot about that day. The camera died, so my dad went to the car to get batteries. Birds were chirping in a stand of nearby trees. I remember listening to them and thinking how odd it was that as a group they all sounded the same, but when I singled one of them out I realized they were all singing something different.

  Adam reached out and yanked on a strand of my hair to get my atte
ntion.

  “Hey!” I cried, turning to scowl at him.

  His grin was goofy. Brotherly. Annoying. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?”

  I contemplated my words before answering. “I’m worried about you.”

  He rolled his eyes and brushed off my comment like a speck of dirt on his shoulder. “You should worry less. Your life would be much simpler.”

  He didn’t understand, not at all, and part of me knew I wouldn’t be able to make him understand where my worry was coming from. I didn’t want to waste our time trying to. So I decided to try to understand where he was coming from, what his reasoning behind all of this was. It’s a question I’d asked many times before, but one that he always easily avoided.

  So for what was probably the hundredth time I opened my mouth and asked, “Why are you doing this, Adam?”

  He sighed and turned to face me. “Have you never wanted to be part of something bigger than yourself?”

  I shrugged, because I’d never really thought about it. I was content with getting by in my own little world.

  “Well, I have,” he said. “I think about it a lot and I want to do something with my life. To be part of something bigger. To protect and stand up for something. This is about freedom and the people who fight for it. Doesn’t that mean something?”

  “But why does it have to be the army? Can’t it be something else?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s a brotherhood, Charlie. This is about putting others before myself.”

  I just tried to accept it, but it was hard. Really, really hard. Part of me wonders if I really ever did. Or if I was still deep down mad at him for leaving me.

  Sometimes I hate memories, because it’s impossible to be content with them. It’s easy to dissect them and obsess over how things could have been different, even though it’s pointless.

  I draw in a big breath and push all of it away. Then I walk the rest of the way down the hall to the bathroom. The last picture I see before I close the door behind me is one of my dad and me. We’re both smiling and so are our eyes, and that makes me feel a little better.

  * * *

  My instincts were right. My hair is a tangled mess and my cheeks are pink from the sun. I splash some cold water on my face and dry it with a towel. Then I open the medicine cabinet in search of a comb. My eyes scan the rows and I quickly find one. My hand freezes in midair as my gaze lands on a translucent prescription bottle.

  Weird. He doesn’t take any medications.

  I decide I shouldn’t snoop and focus on combing through the tangles in my hair instead.

  What if it isn’t even his?

  Curiosity consumes me. I twist my hair into a messy bun at the nape of my neck and reach for the bottle. It’s certainly his. It’s printed clearly on the bottle.

  Patrick Day

  Erlotinib, generic for Tarceva

  150 mg once daily

  The date on the bottle indicates that the prescription was filled three weeks ago. I rattle the bottle; pills remain. Maybe it’s an antibiotic or something. Everyone has an old bottle of antibiotics in their medicine cabinet, right? I push down the top and twist until it opens. Then I peer inside. Seven pills remain. Whatever this is he’s taking it regularly. I wonder what they’re for.

  I don’t think anything is wrong. I mean, he doesn’t seem sick. But I guess that doesn’t really explain the bottle in my hands, does it.

  My dad bellows from somewhere in the house, “Charlie? Can you bring the burgers out?”

  I glance at the name of the prescription and try to commit it to memory so I can look it up later. Then I put the bottle back, close the cabinet and head for the kitchen.

  I grab the tray of patties he’s pre-seasoned and take them outside. “Here you go,” I say, setting the tray on the table beside the grill.

  He stares at me for a second and, cocks his head to the side. “You okay? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I smile, doing my best to make it sincere. “I’m a little hot from the sun, is all.”

  “Well, drink a beer or somethin’. Liven up!” He grins at me and his carefree demeanor is back.

  I twine my hands together and nod. “Will do.”

  Jackson and Devin are coming through the side gate as I cross the deck to the pool, but right now I want to talk to Taylor. I shed my cover-up and jump into the pool at the deep end, treading water to keep my hair dry. I kick off the wall, propelling myself to her raft.

  She cries out in protest when I crash into her and her raft wobbles. “Damn, Charlie!”

  I laugh and kick us to the shallow end where I can touch bottom.

  She lifts her sunglasses and scowls at me. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No. I need to ask a question,” I whisper.

  “Why are you whispering?” she whispers back.

  “Because I don’t want anyone to hear.”

  She leans up on the raft. “Oh. What’s up?”

  “Have you ever heard of erlotinib? Is it an antibiotic, maybe?”

  “Erl-oh what?” she practically yells.

  “Shhhh!” I hiss, snapping my head around to make sure my dad hasn’t heard. He doesn’t let on if he has. I don’t want him to think I was snooping through his things, which is exactly what I was doing, but not on purpose.

  “What’s the big deal?” she asks, lowering her voice again.

  I shrug. “Nothing, really. So have you heard of it?”

  She frowns as she concentrates. After a few seconds she shakes her head. “No. I haven’t. It’s definitely not an antibiotic, though.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s this about?”

  I shrug again. “Nothing. I was just curious.”

  She’s looking at me like I’m crazy but lets it drop.

  I swim to the edge of the pool and rest my hands on the side. I’m considering getting out to do a search for the medication on my cell phone when two bottles come into my line of sight. I smile. One pink wine cooler, one beer.

  Jackson enters the water with a graceful dive, disappearing beneath and resurfacing beside me. He grins, water dripping from his hair and over his face.

  “Hi.” I leave out the part about me wanting to lick his face.

  He pushes the wine cooler into my hand. “Hi.” I take a sip. It’s cold and sweet, refreshing. He takes the bottle from me and sets it to the side, then he moves my hands apart and wraps them around his waist. “You okay?”

  I nod and tip my head back to make sure my dad isn’t watching us. He’s always joked about Jackson being his son-in-law, and if he figures out I have a real interest in him it’s over. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  Jackson pushes a piece of hair out of my eyes. “He’s not paying attention.”

  “I am, though,” Taylor sings, waggling her eyebrows suggestively as her raft floats by.

  I drop my arms and heat tinges the tips of my ears.

  “Go somewhere else,” Jackson says, but he’s grinning when he pushes her raft away, sending it gliding to the other end of the pool.

  When she’s gone, I grin at him. “So...you and Devin?”

  His head falls back and he laughs, loud and loose. “Yeah, yeah. I like the guy. So what?”

  “Have you asked him out yet...like, on a date?” I tease.

  He plucks his bottle off of the concrete and takes a drink. “Actually we’re going golfing this week.”

  “I’m not sure I’m going to like this,” I fret.

  He sets his bottle back down and cocks his head to the side. “Like what?”

  “Sharing you.” I run my hand up the length of his torso, stopping just beneath the surface. Then I let my hand trail back down, slowly this time. My fingers skate over his stomach, bumpin
g along the defined contours of his muscles.

  “You’d better stop doing that,” he warns. “Or I’m going to kiss you.”

  Instantly I stop. “Don’t. My dad would never let it go.” He’d be planning our wedding within seconds. I peer over Jackson’s shoulder where my dad is deep in conversation with Billy.

  Jackson follows my gaze. “I’m sure he’s already got a pretty good idea about us.”

  My hands are still on his waist, and I let them drop away. “Why do you say that?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “Because I asked for his permission before I asked you out.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I stare at him, jaw dropped in shock. “Who still does that?”

  “I do.” He shrugs again. “It’s no big deal.”

  I shake my head. “Do you have any idea how nosy he is?”

  He lifts his hand to my face and slides it beneath my jaw. “People will find out eventually,” he says, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. Then he bends and kisses me, slow and open for everyone to see. When he pulls away he winks and disappears beneath the surface. I watch his long body swim away from me. He pops up on the other side of the pool and lifts his body out of the water.

  My lips are still tingling from the kiss when I feel eyes on me. I make a slow turn, because I know who it’s going to be. My dad. He’s still by the BBQ pit, waving at me with a smile that’s a mile and a half wide.

  Lovely.

  * * *

  I take a big bite of my burger and chew. Then I smile at my dad. “The food’s great.” We’re sitting outside on the patio. Billy had to leave early because Leigh had a bad headache. Devin and Jackson went inside to get Taylor’s pie, and she’s supervising, I guess.

  He cracks the top on his water bottle and downs half the bottle in three big gulps. “Thanks, cook.”

  I take another big bite and raise my eyebrows at the plate he’s barely touched. “Are you not hungry?”

  He crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

  “Are you sick?” I press.