This Is Falling Read online

  God, I’m an idiot. If I could get one redo in life, it would be to go back to that moment outside the Thunder’s stadium—in that very second when I realized it was Sadie standing behind me. I wouldn’t even bother to turn around. Instead, I’d just grab the sides of Rowe’s face and kiss her, like one rude show-off in front of my ex-girlfriend. And not because I give two shits how it would make Sadie feel. Actually, I don’t like the idea of making her feel bad. But if it would wipe away all doubt in Rowe’s mind and make her realize how much she means to me, then I’d kiss her for hours right in front of Sadie just to prove my point.

  “Preet! You ready?” Cash is tossing the ball, playing with his grip, ready to warm.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just waiting for someone to show up. But it’s all good. She’s here,” I say, sliding the mask up on top of my head so we can throw for warm-up.

  “Which one, that sexy little blond thing next to your brother?” he asks, and I smile and shake my head.

  “No, that’s my brother’s girlfriend. But feel free to tell him you think his chick is hot—he likes that. Mine’s the other girl, darker hair, long-ass legs,” I say, waiting for him to throw back to me so I can turn around and take her in one more time.

  “You mean the one that dude’s hitting on right now?” he says, and I just hold up my hand to halt his throw. What. The. Fuck?

  “Oh, you have to be kidding me,” I grit through my teeth. Cash walks up next to me, putting his elbow on my shoulder.

  “So, I’m taking it—he’s not supposed to be here?”

  “No. And in a few minutes, he won’t be breathing,” I say, tossing my mask from my head, and dropping my glove to the ground before I break into a jog.

  Rowe doesn’t see me coming at first, but Ty does. I make eye contact with my brother, and mouth a few choice words, but he just shakes his head and laughs. Without even hesitating, I hop the small wall in front of the seats and climb up the two rows to the dugout row where the big bodybuilder man is now sitting way too fucking close to my girl.

  “Hey, who the fuck are you?” I ask, unable to stop myself. I passed civil and polite twenty yards ago, and I’ve gone straight to crazy.

  “Nate!” Rowe says, her arms out like I’m the one who’s out of line here.

  “Dude, I’m sorry…I was just visiting with Rowe. I’m Tucker,” he says, reaching out a hand, which I slap away instantly.

  “Tucker? You know what rhymes with Tucker? I yell, igniting a round of laughter in my brother.

  “Nate! That’s enough,” Rowe says, standing in between her new friend and me. “Tucker, I’m sorry,” she says, showing me her back while she talks to…this dude!

  “No, it’s okay. I get it. I’ve got things to do, so no worries. Just thought I’d stop by. I’ll…I’ll just see you Monday,” Tucker says, pulling his hat a little lower on his brow. The dude is big—I mean, wide! And I’m already feeling like an ass from the scene I caused, but he’s leaving, and that’s what I really wanted. “Nate, man. Heard good things about you. Really, nice to meet you—maybe next time it’ll be in better…well, circumstances,” he says, reaching his hand out toward me again. I just look at it and laugh once before looking away.

  “I’m sorry,” Rowe says quietly to him again as he leaves.

  “What the hell, Rowe?” My entire body is tingling with adrenaline, and I’m still pissed as hell, so yeah, I’m taking it out on her.

  “Nate, go play your stupid game, or I’m going home,” she says, sitting back in her seat and pulling her knees up, her feet propped on the top of the dugout. “Go on. Run along,” she says, waving me off. I’m so pissed; all I can do is run my hand over my face to keep myself from saying a slew of more things I’ll undoubtedly regret in the next twenty minutes.

  “Shut up, fuck nut,” I say to Ty as I walk by and flip his hat from his head. “Your head looks stupid in that hat. It’s too big.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better, bro. I can take it,” he laughs. And he keeps laughing the entire time I walk back out to the bullpen.

  “How’d that go?” Cash asks, nodding to the girl I just pissed off beyond recognition behind me.

  “Not well, Cash. Not well. Just throw the damn ball,” I say, pulling on my mask and squatting, an extra bit of juice still coursing through my veins. I was going to hit the ball hard tonight, but like hell if I ever wanted to get pumped up with something like that again.

  Coach was pleased. Two triples and a homerun—I’d say it’s a personal best. I swung like I was taking my bat to Tucker-fucker’s midsection, and I ran like I was hunting him down. I am not a jealous person, or at least, I’ve never had a reason to feel like this before. And I don’t think I like it.

  As the game wore on, the reality of my behavior really started to set in, and by the seventh inning, I found myself afraid to step out from the dugout in Rowe’s view. God, I didn’t even want her to look at me, I was so embarrassed. But I know if that dude shows up again, I’ll be right back in crazy mode.

  “Yo, your brother’s out there waiting on you,” Cash says, throwing his dirty towel at me.

  “Thanks man. Hey, nice arm today.”

  “Ha, only half as good as that stick you’re swinging. See ya tomorrow,” he says, holding the door open and giving me a glimpse of Ty out in the hall. I shove my equipment in the locker and slip my feet into my sandals, my socks, pants, and undershirt completely saturated with the dirt from the field.

  “Hell of a game, bro. Glad to see she didn’t completely fuck up baseball,” Ty says, holding his knuckles out for me. I pound them with mine and then lean against the wall.

  “I kinda used it, I guess you could say,” I admit.

  “Yeah you did. That homer went a good four-twenty,” he says, tipping his hat down on his forehead, just to remind me that I was an ass to him, too.

  “Sorry about the hat thing. It fits your head just fine,” I say, my eyes squinting while I look up at him sideways, feeling every bit of shame on my face.

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re right—I have a tiny head. But hey, it’s big where it counts!” he says, making me break into a small laugh. My brother’s arrogance is the world’s greatest depression elixir.

  “Rowe go home?” I ask, honestly not knowing when or if she left. I hid from her sight for the last forty-five minutes.

  “She’s still here. Right where you left her. Said she wasn’t moving a muscle until you apologized or some shit like that. But I don’t know, dude, I think she’s the one who owes you an apology bringing a dude like that out here and waving him under your nose,” Ty says, and I know he’s wrong, but I just smile and pat his back while I head down the hall for the most awesome begging-display of my life.

  “Yeah, probably. But I’m gonna go apologize anyway,” I say, turning around and walking backward with my arms out. Ty turns to face me, his hands clasped behind his neck.

  “Pussy,” he teases.

  She’s still fuming. I can tell by the way her legs are bent, perched on the dugout in the exact same position they were when I walked away a few hours ago. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, and her eyes are zoned out, looking at the field in front of her. I walk over to her slowly, and I stop when I’m two seats away. I sit down, putting my feet up like hers, and we both sit there silently for several minutes, watching the grounds crew work to ready the field for the two teams playing early in the morning.

  I’d like to be the first one to speak, but I don’t know what the hell to say. There are so many things I need to tell her, and so many massive fuck-ups over the last twenty-four hours that I need to make amends for—I don’t know which one takes priority. So I sit there, patiently waiting for her to give me a sign, to tell me what she needs to hear first, what she needs to hear most.

  “You called me your friend,” she says finally, and my heart squeezes tightly. She still won’t look at me, her eyes following the two men on the field who are pulling up bases and re-chalking lines. I need her to se
e me. I still don’t know what I’m going to say, but I know the words will come as soon as I can get her eyes on mine, so I get up and hop on top of the dugout so I can walk over to where her feet are resting. I sit so my legs are straddling her feet, and then I wrap my hands around her shoes, mostly to keep her from kicking me.

  “I think we both know that you and I were never friends, Rowe.” She shifts her eyes to mine quickly, holding my attention with this silent stare for even longer minutes.

  “What are we then, Nate? What is this…this, whatever we’re doing? What are we to you?” All I want to do is move her goddamned legs out of my way so I can get to her mouth and kiss her, but she’ll run if I rush this.

  “I can’t tell you what we are Rowe. I can’t tell you that, because that entirely depends on you. But I can tell you what you are to me. And it’s not the word friend. It’s so far beyond the word friend that I’m scared shitless right now to say it out loud, because I’m afraid you don’t want to hear it. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. You are the face in all of my dreams and the smile I see when I close my eyes. Your voice when you sing in the shower late at night, when you think you’re alone, is like music to my ears—and I know, that’s totally weird that I listen to you, but don’t interrupt my flow, we can get back to that later,” I say, holding a hand up to stop her.

  “You’ve got me all twisted in here,” I say, running my palm over my chest. “I don’t know what to do, how to act, and what to say. Clearly, I don’t have a fucking clue what to say! It all comes out like garbage, because there aren’t any words that are good enough. And I worry—God, Rowe, I worry all the time that something I do or say is going to break you. And I can’t have that, because you’ve come so far, and you’ve come this far with me. And it’s such a gift, the way you’ve trusted me, given this part of yourself to me. And I know, I was kind of…well, shit, Rowe…I was crazy when that Tucker dude was over here, because I see how he looks at you. Hell, it’s the same way I look at you. It’s the way you deserve to be looked at—admired and adored. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up everything just because I’m afraid. Because I know the second I walk away, a hundred Tuckers, who all probably deserve you more than I do, will line up to take my place, and I will hate every last one of them. And I’ll hate myself for giving up.”

  “What are you saying, Nate?” Her eyes haven’t moved from mine the entire time. I don’t even think she’s blinked. But I can see her heart on her sleeve, her eyes just waiting to let the tears fall. She’s so afraid I’m going to break her right here, right now.

  “I love you, Rowe. That’s it. I love you. I love you. I love you!” I stand to my feet and shout those words, getting the attention of the grounds crew, who all whistle and mock me—as they should. I jump down and swing her feet sideways so I can kneel in front of her, my face pressed flat against her lap while I speak. “God, Rowe—that feels so good to say. I love you, and I meant it the first time I said it. I never should have taken it back, and I should have said it sooner.”

  When I look up into her eyes, the tears are threatening to fall even more, and she’s breathing in deeply through her nose, just trying to stay strong. If she runs from me now, it will kill me. It will absolutely slay me. But it would still be worth it. Just getting the chance to tell this girl I love her once would be worth all the pain in the world.

  Rowe leans forward until her head is pressed against mine, and only then do the tears fall from her eyes, landing on her legs in front of me. I reach up and rub my thumbs gently under each eye, and she leans into my palm, her eyes slowly opening to look at me, her heart pounding so hard I can feel it in every part of her body.

  “You didn’t dip your shoulder,” she says, and my lungs fill completely with relief and hope—and so much goddamned love for this girl that I can hardly stand it. I bite my tongue, but I can’t help the enormous smile pushing up the corners of my mouth.

  “No. I didn’t,” I say through small, breathy laughter, reaching down to grab her hand in mine and kissing it. “Anything else you see wrong with my swing…coach?”

  “No,” she says with a small quiver, letting one last tiny tear fall through her smile. “Well, maybe the follow through. Oh, and your feet are a mess. And your head moves a little…a lot. But, other than that…”

  “God, I love you,” I say, pulling her face close to mine and pressing my lips to hers so hard, she can barely squeeze out any more words. But she does.

  “I love you, too, Fifty-seven.”

  Chapter 23

  Rowe

  This is living.

  It was like I was born the moment I told Nate how I felt. Coming here, to McConnell, was a breakthrough for me. But loving Nate—letting myself be human and feel something again…that was breaking free.

  My parents will be here in the morning, and my belly is full of nerves over it, but they’re happy nerves. I don’t know how I’m going to introduce Nate, but I know my mom and her intuition, so I don’t think I will have to say much. I just hope they love him as much as they always loved Josh.

  Josh was a part of our family, almost from the very beginning. He spent time with my father without me. Sure, usually talking baseball. But there was a love there, a connection. I desperately want them to feel that with Nate.

  “There, smell better?” Nate says, coming in his room after showering. His hair is wet and twisted in all directions. I love the way the ends are golden from the sun.

  “It’ll do,” I tease, causing him to toss his wet towel from his hand at me.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re staying here again tonight. I think that’s the real reason Ty wanted us to make up,” Nate says, slipping one of his McConnell baseball shirts over his head. I’m a little disappointed that he does, because if anything is going to happen tonight, Nate is going to need to be the aggressor. I’m too…I’m just too new at all this.

  “Yes, I bet he’s glad to end the fussy fuss,” I laugh.

  “Oh god, I swear, him and fussy fuss! He used to make fun of me when we were kids with that damned phrase. He’d punch me, steal my ice cream, and then tell Mom I was making a fussy fuss.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “Right? I’m such a victim,” Nate says. He sits next to me and folds his hands together and leans forward to rest them against his knees. His smile is shy and uncomfortable, and it’s sweet. We both keep stealing glances, then looking away as soon as we’re caught. It’s funny how putting your feelings out in the open can add this whole new layer to your world. We both seem to be sort of stuck, not knowing what to do with one another or how to act. And I wish like hell he’d just kiss me and keep going.

  “You wanna get him back?” I say, just trying to erase the awkwardness in the air.

  “Huh?”

  “Ty. You wanna get him back? You know, for the years of abuse?” I raise my eyebrows, and Nate stands up with a big smile.

  “Uh, yeah I do. What’d you have in mind, Prankmaster?”

  “Oh, so you acknowledge that I am in fact the master now, do you?” I say, standing and poking at his chest. He pulls me in for a quick kiss.

  “You had me at pink,” he winks, and I roll my eyes.

  “Okay, Jerry Maguire.”

  I spend a few minutes looking around Nate and Ty’s room, pulling open a few drawers and looking for just the right point of attack.

  “He has a Playboy in here. We could pull some pages out and glue them into his textbook so they show up in class,” I suggest.

  “No, Ty would actually like that. In fact, I think he’s done that before,” Nate says, joining me to flip through drawers and look under Ty’s bed.

  I’m about to give up, when I get to the bottom drawer and I move a few balls of socks to the side. “Uh, Nate? What…is this?” I ask holding up the small, brown teddy bear with two mismatched button eyes.

  “That’s Cookie!” he says, taking it from me and squeezing it once.
“Unbelievable! I can’t believe he still has this thing…and he brought it, to grad school!”

  “Nate…we have our target,” I smirk, taking the bear back from his hands and tucking it in the bottom of my purse. “This bear is being held hostage, and Ty is about to be our bitch for the next few days.”

  “I LOVE it!” he says, laughing and picking me up in his arms and swinging me around. “You…are a genius! An evil genius—an evil, sexy genius!”

  He kisses me with a little more force, still holding my legs off of the ground, and the more he kisses me, the more I can tell his mood has changed. I don’t even hesitate with he finally sets my feet on the ground and begins walking me backward toward his bed, all the while his lips on mine. I pull my shirt over my head, and he follows with his. It was only on him for minutes, and I’m so glad it’s off again.

  Things get real when he reaches for the button on his jeans, unsnapping and kicking them from his legs. And all of the absoluteness—the sureness and confidence I had felt moments before—starts to wane. Nate is not Josh. And I’m glad he’s not, because Nate is who I love now. But he’s not some sixteen-year-old inexperienced boy. It’s clear in the way he looks, in the way he moves and in the way he’s touching me now.

  “We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, sensing my nerves. How could he not, I’m pretty sure my entire body is shaking. But just the thought of stopping—of not getting to have him completely—makes my heart hurt, so I shake my head quickly before he can change his mind.

  “No, I want to. I’m just…a little out of practice.” I feel stupid saying it, but I want Nate to know what he’s getting.

  “We’re here…together. You say stop if we need to stop. And I will be fine with that. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding quickly and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath and lose myself in the feeling of Nate’s kiss on my head. When I open my lids again, my view is of his lower body. He’s wearing a pair of black boxer shorts, and nothing else, and all I want to do is run my hands over every inch, every muscle along his back, stomach, sides, and...