The Moment We Fell

by Kelli Warner

  I run my hand slowly over the letter and blink at Jay through watery eyes. His expression bleeds remorse.

  “It’s true that your grandfather tried to pay me off to leave your mother alone. But he never told me she was pregnant. I swear to you.” Sadness fills Jay’s face, darkening his eyes. He holds my gaze for a long moment. “Martin asked me to go away so Abby could pursue her dancing. He said she was never going to truly focus on that if she thought there was still a chance she could be with me. But Paige, I never took the money.”

  Jay slowly paces at the foot of my bed, his hands on his waist and his head hung low as he sorts through his thoughts. “My father was an alcoholic, and he struggled to hold down a job. My mother worked three jobs to make ends meet.” He stops and tilts his head toward the ceiling. “I hadn’t planned to go to college. I wanted to work, so I could help my mother and relieve some of the burdens on her. When I told Martin that I wasn’t going to college, he was done with me. He told me there was no way his daughter could ever be happy with someone who would never be able to adequately provide for her—and he couldn’t risk letting her be with someone who would probably turn out just like his father.”

  My heart aches at the harshness of his words, and I imagine what it must have been like the first time Jay heard them. “But you did go to college,” I say.

  He nods. “My mother insisted. But by then, things were over between Abby and me. Her father made it clear that he was never going to accept me.”

  “That’s why you left?” I ask, wiping at my eyes. I’m seized unexpectedly by another round of sharp pain that propels a guttural sound from my throat.

  Jay puts a gentle hand on my wrist. “You need to relax. You’ve been through a lot. Please, try not to move.”

  I draw a few shallow breaths, and the pain eases. “Why did you leave my mom?” I ask again.

  When he finally answers, his voice is ragged, almost broken. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t. And I was so angry at Martin, I can’t even begin to tell you. I actually ripped up his check and threw it in his face.”

  That makes me smile, but it quickly fades when I remember that he’d still walked away, from my mother and, by extension, me.

  “I’d planned to tell Abby what he did, how he thought bribing me could separate us,” he explains.

  “Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell her?”

  Jay’s thoughtful; then, with new conviction, he says, “Because I knew how much Abby loved her father and how important family was to her. I thought if I just went off to college and never told her what he’d done, she could still salvage her relationship with her dad.” Softly, he adds, “I just wanted her to be happy. She deserved that.”

  “But she wasn’t happy,” I remind him. He’d read the journals. He knows as well as I do that was the end of my mom’s relationship with her father. She’d lost both Jay and Martin all at once. All because of lies and secrets.

  “I didn’t think Martin would be bold enough to admit to Abby that he offered me the money.” He shakes his head, a muscle thrumming along his jaw. “And I never thought him vindictive enough to lie and tell her I took it. If I’d known that—I would have made sure she knew the truth.” He closes his eyes for longer than a blink. “And when I got that letter and I realized that she thought I knew about you all those years ago and still walked away—that nearly killed me.”

  I study him carefully, and in the lines around his eyes, I see the sorrow over everything that went so terribly wrong all those years ago. He lost seventeen years with a child he never knew he had. I grew up without a father. And to top it off, my mother believed that she had been deceived by the boy who’d been her first love when, in truth, she’d been lied to by her own father. It’s a story that reads like a tragic novel where no one lives happily ever after.

  “Dad,” I say hesitantly. The oddity of the word is so foreign on my lips that I’m a little startled by the sound.

  Jay’s eyes swing to mine, awe filling his strained face. “You’ve never called me that before.”

  “I know. And to be honest, it feels kind of weird,” I say. “But—I think I could get used to it—if you don’t mind.”

  Jay nods and his smile widens until it consumes his face and his eyes glisten. “Yeah.” He reaches out and touches my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. This feels good, and for the first time in a long time, I want him to stay with me. But then I remember there is something I need to do.

  “Where’s Connie? I have to apologize to her. I said some awful things, to both of you, and I’m so very sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t understand.”

  “It’s okay, Paige.”

  “No, it’s not.” I swallow hard, recalling the hurtful accusations I’d thrown at them. “I spent so much time pushing you away, both of you, I didn’t bother to see what I had. I just felt—”

  “Abandoned,” Jay supplies. I lower my lashes. “Paige, I know this has been difficult for you. And you think I only invited you here because I felt obligated.”

  I stare down at the blankets.

  “That’s not true,” he says firmly. “What I said before—it was only because I was angry. I wanted you here with us the moment I found out about you.” His heavy sigh is filled with unspoken words, and he rubs his index finger across his lower lip in thought. “I don’t know why your mother would trust me to raise you after all these years, and believe me, there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about that. But all that matters is that she did trust me, and I will do everything I can to prove to you that she didn’t make a mistake when she made that decision.”

  I glance up and meet gentle eyes. “Look, Paige, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you to come here, and I was scared. I admit that. But please believe me when I say that I wanted you here. Maybe I didn’t show you that in the ways I should have, but this is all new territory for me.”

  “Me too,” I admit.

  “You and I are more alike than I realized. We’re both strong-willed and maybe a little stubborn at times.” I raise an eyebrow. “Connie’s words,” he says quickly, and I have to agree that’s a pretty fair assessment. I haven’t given Connie the credit she deserves. “But she’s also the one who told me that we need each other. And I think she’s right about that, too.” He eyes me hopefully.

  On the verge of tears once more, I nod. “Could you go get Connie? I really need to talk to her and apologize.”

  Jay reaches over and gently cups my cheek. I lean into his warm palm. “Sure.” He turns to go, but then stops. “You should also talk to Cade when you get a chance. I think he’d like to see you, too.”

  My heart immediately does a grand jeté inside my chest. “Is Cade here?”

  Jay’s smile softens. “He stayed until he knew you were going to be all right. Then he left.”

  The light wave of hope that swelled in my chest sinks. Cade left. He didn’t want to see me. I hurt him too deeply to be forgiven.

  “You were right,” Jay says. “I didn’t give him a fair shake. He’s a decent kid. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know how we would have found you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “When you didn’t come home, we didn’t know where to begin looking for you,” Jay says. “I went to Cade’s house on the off chance you were there. He and Shawn offered to help look for you. They found your car parked at the trailhead.” Jay shakes his head. “Thank God Shawn was with him. He knew just what to do. The doctors say if you’d spent just a couple more hours out there alone—things could have ended much differently.” Jay shudders at the thought of what he and I both know would have happened. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid so scared.”

  A new warmth fills my insides.

  “I’d like the chance to get to know him better. So, if you want to invite him over to the house, you have my blessing.”

  It might be too late for that gesture, but I don’t tell Jay that.

  “Oh, one more thing.” He motion
s to the journals in my lap. “Did you read both of these?” I look down at them, stroking the leather with my fingers, and shake my head. “You should. Especially that one.” I hold up the brown journal with my mother’s initials etched in gold on the front cover. “I think you need to read Abby’s last entry.” With that, he smiles and touches my hand before heading for the door.

  Cade doesn’t come back to the hospital that night, but Connie comes to see me, just as I’d asked. She sits rigidly in the chair across from me. I don’t blame her; our last conversation was pretty awful.

  Connie’s face breaks. “I’m so sorry, Paige.”

  “Stop, please,” I tell her, shaking my head, ashamed that she would try to take the blame for my embarrassing behavior. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things to you.”

  “It’s all right—”

  “It’s not actually, and there’s something I need to say to you.” She clasps her hands in her lap and nods. “I had no right to take out my anger on you. I was upset. You were there. I felt like I’d made a mess of everything, and when I saw you with my pointe shoes—”

  “I shouldn’t have snooped, I just—”

  “Please, let me finish,” I say. “This isn’t about what you did. You just happened to be the third person that day who was trying to get me to face something I wasn’t ready to face. I couldn’t handle that. But you were right. I don’t talk about my mom because if I did, I would have to deal with a lot of painful stuff,” I confess. “I’d have to admit that I’m so angry and hurt and lost right now—and I just couldn’t do that. But I had no right to say such terrible things to you. You have gone out of your way to be more than nice to me since I got here. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that, and I’m really, really sorry.” My voice is barely a whisper by the time I expel my final words.

  “Paige, I never wanted to take your mother’s place,” Connie says, casting her red, swollen eyes downward as if they harbor something she doesn’t want me to see.

  With every bit of strength remaining in my upper body, I coax the fingers of my left hand to slowly maneuver the small space between us to where Connie’s hands are clasped together on the edge of the bed. I give them a gentle squeeze. Connie’s head lifts, and she stares at me in wonder and confusion.

  “I understand now why you tried so hard to reach me. Jay—Dad—told me about Nathan.”

  Connie draws in a sharp breath. When she manages to swallow it down, her shoulders relax, and she nods.

  “You couldn’t save him, and I’m so sorry about that, but you saved me. Even though I didn’t know I needed saving. You convinced Jay to take me in, and I haven’t been the most grateful or easy houseguest.”

  “Let me be very clear about one thing, Paige. You are not a houseguest,” she says firmly. “You are a member of this family.”

  “See? How can you be so nice after the way I treated you?”

  “Because that’s what you do for family,” Connie answers matter-of-factly, tucking a strand of her thick, blond hair behind her ear. “I knew what you were going through and it wasn’t my place to tell you to get over it. We all heal in our own time. I had faith that you’d eventually come around.”

  “I’ve come around,” I manage, embarrassment heating my cheeks. “And I’m truly sorry for everything.” The tears come easily to the corners of my eyes and slide down my face. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

  Connie pats my hand. “I’ll never give up on you, sweetie.” She leans forward, brushing away the tears, and kisses my cheek.

  “Maybe someday you could tell me about my brother Nathan—and I could tell you about my mom.”

  Connie smiles, wiping at her moist eyes. “I would like that very much.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Paige

  “You are a badass, my friend,” Quinn declares, sitting cross-legged on the foot of my hospital bed. The last time the nurse came into the room, she’d reminded Quinn in a firm, motherly voice that the bed was only for patients, and she directed her to the chair, where “visitors are encouraged to sit.” Quinn had smiled politely and apologized in her sweet, syrupy voice that she reserves for adults in authority, but as soon as the nurse was gone, she’d hopped right back up on the bed.

  “I think you’re confused about what badassery really means,” I say, gesturing with my hand to the hospital equipment surrounding me and gritting my teeth at the twinge of pain in my shoulder. “No badassery here. This is clearly the result of good, old-fashioned idiocy.”

  “Still,” Quinn says. “Think about it. You could have died. But you were rescued in the nick of time.”

  “It wasn’t like Prince Charming rode up on his mighty steed,” I say, amused by the glimmer in her eye. “I was rescued by a Coast Guard helicopter crew.”

  Quinn snorts. “Yeeees—but they wouldn’t have even known you were there if it wasn’t for the hot guitar player who risked his life to save yours. Don’t look at me like that; I overheard Jay talking to Cade’s family.”

  “You’re right. Cade saved me, and I’m thankful,” I say. My fingers fiddle with the frayed edge of the blanket in my lap. “But he hasn’t bothered to come see me since I woke up. That can’t be a good sign.”

  “Relax,” Quinn says. “I’m sure he’s just waiting for everyone else to have a chance to see you first. That waiting room is a pretty happenin’ place. Everyone is here to make sure you’re okay.”

  I appreciate all the friendly faces who have stopped by to check in on me in the last forty-eight hours, from Aunt Faye and Tyler to Zoey and Sam and a bunch of girls from the dance team who I barely know. Even Mrs. Hopkins sent a teddy bear and a balloon with a “Get Well Soon” card. But still, the fact that Cade hasn’t been one of the people to step foot in my room—that worries me. Regardless that he’d risked his own life to save mine, it doesn’t erase the fact that we’d said some hurtful things to each other on the beach two days ago. And despite Quinn’s reassurances, there is still a good possibility that just because Cade saved me didn’t mean he ever wanted to see me again.

  “When are you getting out of here?” Quinn asks. “Hospitals creep me out.”

  “Hopefully, later today, if everything checks out. Jay’s trying to track down the doctor for a status report.”

  “Is your doctor cute at least?” Quinn asks, and I laugh. I’ve binged enough medical shows with her on Netflix to know precisely what she’s thinking.

  “He’s a grandfather,” I say.

  Quinn wrinkles her nose. “Bummer.”

  There’s a light tapping on my closed door. “I hope for your sake that’s not the nurse again.” Quinn rolls her eyes as I call, “Come in.”

  My heart stutters when the door opens, and Cade walks into the room.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Cade

  Paige stares at me like I’m a mirage standing in her doorway. I step into the room and take in the full sight of her, her arm in a sling and the bruises and scrapes across her face.

  “You up for another visitor?” I ask. She doesn’t respond.

  “All righty, then.” Quinn sighs, sliding off the bed. She snags her jacket from the chair and wriggles into it. “I think I’m gonna go check out the cafeteria. I hear the chocolate pudding rocks.” She gives Paige a hug and heads for the door. As she passes me, she flicks my arm and says, “It’s about time you showed up, punk.”

  I suppress my smile and move to the foot of the bed, where Paige’s weary eyes assess me. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she repeats, her guarded gaze filled with questions.

  “Looks like we’re going to have matching scars.” I gesture to the bandage on her forehead. Paige lowers her lashes. “Sorry I’m late.” Tentatively, I lean in to kiss her uninjured cheek, and I’m relieved that she lets me. Forcing myself to break our connection, I take a seat in the chair. “So, a funny thing happened the other day. A girl on the beach told me I needed to get my shit together and—how did s
he put it exactly?—Oh, yeah, ‘Stop throwing a selfish tantrum.’”

  Paige flinches. “Just so you know, that girl was a whack job. She didn’t know what she was talking about.”

  I reach for her hand. “You had every right to say what you did.”

  “No, I didn’t,” she says. “I was horrible to you. I think I just wanted someone else to hurt as much as I did. What’s going on between you and your dad is none of my business, Cade. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m really sorry.”

  “No one’s ever spoken to me like that before,” I say.

  “And no one should,” she insists.

  “Actually, someone probably should have said it a long time ago. I might have decked ’em if they had, but I needed to hear it.” I release her hand and sit back. Paige’s face falls at the distance between us. “Everything you said to me was true. I never gave my dad a chance to explain why he did what he did. So—I went to see him.”

  Wide eyes stare back at me. “You did?”

  I nod. “Yesterday. That’s why I wasn’t here. Because I couldn’t face you until I talked to him.”

  “Wow, Cade, that’s big,” she whispers.

  I stand and circle around to the foot of her bed, my thumbs hooked in my pockets. “I sat in the parking lot at the correctional facility with Macy for half an hour trying to get up the nerve to go inside. I thought about what you said, about how I was hurting her and—” I shrug. “I finally went in.”

  “How was it?”

  I blow out a long breath. “It was weird. I mean, I haven’t seen my father in nearly four years. He looks older. He looks—different.”

  “How so?” Paige doesn’t know what my father looks like. She’s never even seen a photo of him because I made Macy pack them all away years ago. I couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  “I’m not quite sure how to explain it. He was definitely surprised to see me, that’s for sure,” I say, closing my eyes and telling Paige the whole story.

  “It’s good to see you, son,” my father had said as he took a seat across from me at the large metal table. I bristled at the word “son.” When Mac called me that, I felt a connection, but coming from my father’s mouth, that one small word was more like a fork scraping across a plate than a term of endearment.