Keep From Falling (Markson Grove Series Book 1)

by Amy Vanessa Miller

  * * * *

  Keep from Falling

  a novel

  Copyright © 2015 by Amy Vanessa Miller

  Cover Design by Shirphie Li

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  WARNING:

  This New Adult Romance contains violence, coarse language, sexually explicit scenes, drug abuse, and illegal situations. Intended for mature reading audiences only.

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thity-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Bree

  When I was twelve, I used to imagine my wedding day.

  I’d be wearing a beautiful white gown that would flow into a gorgeous long train. My hair would be decorated with pink roses, white lilies, and covered in the sheerest veil imaginable. I’d walk slowly so everyone could take in how beautiful I am. I’d anticipate every step I took, not because I’d be worried about falling, but because this would be my wedding day and I wouldn’t want to forget any details. I’d walk toward my future husband with excitement and longing. It would all be so beautiful.

  In front of me, carrying my future husband’s wedding ring tied to a bouquet that would match the flowers in my hair, would be my best friend, Skylar. She’d be dressed in a beautiful blue gown that we both decided made her look like a princess from one of our favorite movies. Her hair would be done up really pretty, without any braids or funky accessories in it. She would fuss about that of course, but she’d do it anyway because she’s my best friend and she would do anything for me.

  She would be so happy for me because this would be what we had always hoped for one another. True happiness. Perfect bliss. Forever.

  But when I was twelve, things weren’t the way they are now. Things were simple and straightforward. Skylar was my best friend and I was hers. There were no other titles and no more expectations than that.

  When we were twelve, there was a place for that future husband waiting for me at the altar… but there isn’t place for him anymore.

  “Ready to get going?”

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts and immediately look up from where I am sitting on the floor in front of my locker. Skylar is standing directly in front of me with an incredibly beautiful smile etched across her face. She looks exceptionally happy today, and that rare happiness makes me smile inwardly.

  “Just messing around with this new phone,” I say as I stuff the phone in my jeans pocket. “I’m ready when you are.”

  I reach my hand up for her to help me to my feet. She takes my hand quickly, pulling my body up to hers. She lets her hand linger a bit on my shoulder and shoots me a quick wink. I laugh, shoving her away playfully.

  This is typical Skylar, being her beautiful self. She loves to make me want to kiss her in public.

  “How many apps did you get on that thing so far?” she asks as she drapes her arm over my shoulder, pulling my body close to hers. She’s two inches taller than me, so when she does this it feels like my body fits into hers perfectly.

  “I don’t even know where to get apps,” I say with a laugh. I turn my face to her and move in closely to show her that her teasing will go nowhere with me. I look around and once I’m sure that no one is paying any attention to us, I steal a quick kiss on the lips before taking off running down the hall. She follows after me.

  Once outside, we continue running through a walking trail behind the school that leads to a lone apartment building at the end of a cul-de-sac where Skylar lives with her aunt, Cecelia.

  I’m giggling as Skylar catches up to me and passes me on the trail. She turns around just as she pushes in front of me, blowing me a kiss before turning back and sprinting toward the doors of the building.

  I pick up my speed in the parking lot and manage to dart in front of her just as we reach the doors. I hurry inside and attempt to get to the elevator before she does but it’s no use, she makes a jump ahead of me somehow and reaches the elevator button before I do.

  “How the hell do you do that all the time?” I ask with a tired laugh. I’m very much out of breath and I need to bend over slightly in order to catch it.

  “That’s easy, I always let you think you’re winning,” she says, sticking out her tongue playfully.

  The elevator dings and the paint-chipped doors open up to reveal a badly lit elevator car with what used to be a royal blue carpet but now is closer to a pasty grey.

  We both scurry inside and as soon as the doors close behind us, we crash into one another and kiss passionately. I run my hands through her beautifully long, black hair, getting my finger stuck where the cl
ips and braids are as she pushes me up against the wall of the elevator. I gasp, clutching her hair tightly. She begins to kiss my neck, then my shoulders, and then starts to unbutton my shirt. I take her hands into mine instead and press my body to hers, pushing her up against the adjacent wall. She lets out a surprised gasp when her back hits the wall. She smiles, pressing her lips to mine harder than before.

  The doors to the elevator open abruptly. We both look to the door in surprise and gather our composure as we distance ourselves from one another. I peer at my left shoulder and realize my shirt and bra strap have been pulled down. I yank them up quickly.

  Mrs. Grand, an old woman with blue hair who lives on the third floor, stands in front of us with a look of horror on her face. I clear my throat uncomfortably.

  “Going down?” she asks, coolly.

  “Going up,” I say with a wink.

  “I’ll take the next one then.” Her eyes move back and forth between the two of us in disapproval.

  Skylar sneers and just before the doors close, she sticks up her middle finger at the old woman.

  “Skylar!” I gasp, grabbing ahold of her hand. “You can’t be doing that kind of shit every time someone doesn’t approve.”

  Skylar shrugs, unaffected. “She deserved it.”

  I smile and move in closer to her. “I love you,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her neck.

  She smiles back and kisses me hard on the lips. “I love you too.”

  Once the elevator reaches the eighth floor, we walk down the hallway hand in hand until we approach apartment sixteen.

  “Is your aunt home?” I ask, loosening my grip of her hand in the off chance that her answer is yes.

  Skylar shakes her head. “She has another new boyfriend, so what do you think?”

  I sigh. I hate that she’s stuck living with this careless woman. I actually don’t even understand how Cecelia’s managed to maintain custody of her all of these years, especially after Skylar’s older brother, Keegan, overdosed in this very apartment when he was only fourteen. That was eight years ago. It feels like yesterday.

  Skylar notices the look on my face. “Like it matters anyway,” she says with a careless shrug. “More alone time for us.”

  I laugh as she pulls me through the kitchen toward her bedroom. “I’ve been wanting to hold you all day,” she says, pushing me down onto her unmade bed.

  “Me too,” I reply. It’s the truth. I have been thinking about Skylar and our relationship for the greater part of the day. Not about making out like I’m sure she’s been thinking about, but about our relationship, in general. Where it’s going; where it can or can’t go in the future; where we want it to go. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed at length before because we know my parents would never understand. Homosexuality isn’t something embraced in the Porter household. It isn’t even something tolerated. And if they can’t understand it, then we can’t be public about it. Skylar needs them in her life; they are all she has.

  For us, though, our attraction to one another has never really been about sexual orientation; it’s always been about who our souls are to one another. We are connected, and our love is deeper than something so simply defined as a gay relationship. We are more than that. But more isn’t enough of a label for the outside world and we know that. I’m ready to tell people who we are to each other. I need it. Desperately.

  Skylar leans in to kiss me but notices something is on my mind. “What’s up?”

  I press my lips together for a moment, contemplating how to begin. “We need to figure out what we want… for our future,” I say finally.

  Skylar looks deep into my eyes for a long time before finally speaking. “We are with each other and we love each other. What more is there to figure out?”

  “Well,” I begin, “if we are going to continue being together this way, I think we need to tell people. Make it clear that we are more than just friends to one another.”

  “Why? We’ve already talked about this, we can’t.”

  “I think it’s time.”

  I see the uneasiness in her hazel eyes. This conversation scares her. “Do we really need to decide this right now?” she asks, biting down on her lower lip so hard that I think it might draw blood.

  “Yes,” I say, refusing to back down.

  “If we tell people, everything will change.”

  “I don’t care what everybody thinks, and I know you don’t either. I just want a life beyond our bedroom walls. This is real. If we want to keep going with it then we have to tell people. It’s not going to stay a secret forever and I don’t want it to anyway.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m just scared that once we tell people things will get complicated and I’ll lose you.”

  I shake my head and take her hand into mine. “That’s never going to happen,” I whisper reassuringly.

  Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she quickly brushes them away, smudging her mascara and eyeliner in the process. She takes a slow and steady breath as if to calm her insecurities. “What about your mom and dad?” she asks.

  The inevitable question. It always comes back to what Alice and Dean Porter will think. Skylar’s fear of their reaction to the news is the only thing keeping her from agreeing to this and I know it. “What about them?” I mutter. I don’t like that she’s bringing them into this debate yet again.

  “They’re going to disown me, Bree. I won’t be a part of the family anymore, your mom will disown me the instant she finds out. I know it.”

  As much as I want to say otherwise, Skylar has a point about my parents. They would never in a million years understand, of this I am certain, but I don’t care. I’m willing to drop them out of my life forever for her. She just doesn’t seem to feel the same way, and it’s frustrating.

  I shrug. “We are leaving for university in less than five months. It doesn’t even matter what they think.”

  “If I get accepted. I still didn’t get a letter,” she points out.

  “Oh, you’re going to get that letter. We’ll be rooming together, loving each other every night, and what my parents think about it won’t matter at all,” I say, but I know as I’m saying it that Skylar won’t budge on this. That realization makes me sad and angry in equal measure because it means we truly are stuck like this forever, hiding in our rooms for no one to ever see us.

  I pull my work uniform out from my backpack and begin to undress while avoiding eye contact with Skylar. “You should call in sick and stay here the rest of the night,” she says, not noticing my cool demeanor.

  I force a smile. Although I’m not really feeling up to going into work tonight, I’m definitely not feeling up to staying here with Skylar. I’m angry with her for choosing my parents over us. I hate it. I hate how this conversation always has to come back to them. Always.

  I finish dressing and then turn to face her. “I can’t call in sick today. I’m training someone.”

  Skylar gives me a little pout, “are you sure?”

  I flop down on the bed next to her. “I’m sure,” I say and give her a quick kiss on the lips so that she doesn’t realize how upset I am with her. She doesn’t handle that sort of thing well, so I try to avoid it as much as possible.

  She grabs ahold of a pillow and hits it playfully over my head. She doesn’t seem to notice my anger in the least, which is fine because I’m not in the mood for a fight anyway; at least not that type of fight. But a pillow-fight, on the other hand…

  “Oh no, you didn’t!” I shriek, grabbing the other pillow beside me and hitting her with it as hard as I can. She tumbles to the floor in a fit of laughter, and as she struggles to get up, I launch another pillow at her face.

  “Ok, ok. I give!” she yells out, holding up her hands in surrender.

  I freeze on the bed, still sitting up on my knees ready to smack another pillow in her face at the first sign of movement. She’s smiling mischievously, so I’m not sure if I should trust her. I don’t eas
e my grip on the pillow.

  Suddenly, she launches herself on top of me full force and has me pinned on my back with my hands above my head.

  I laugh. I can’t stay angry with this girl. She’s too perfect. “How the hell do you always do that?”

  She leans into me, pressing her chest against mine as she kisses me hard on the lips. She lets go of my hands and sits up. “Do you want me to walk you to work?”

  “Nah, it’s fine,” I say, gently pushing her aside and getting up off the bed. I look in the mirror and pull my hair back into a messy ponytail as I examine my navy blue uniform shirt that has ‘Pete’s Convenience Store’ written across the front. It’s wrinkled from being stuffed into my backpack so I run my hands over it in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles, but I’m unsuccessful.

  I sit back on the bed beside her and reach for her hair, which is flowing down her back in a messy cluster of braids, beads, and barrettes. I run my fingers through a piece that isn’t braided or beaded yet and move myself behind her, sitting crossed legged, as I begin to braid another piece of it. “I wish I had your hair,” I say.

  She laughs. “I don’t know why anyone would want this mess when they could have those perfect strawberry blond locks of yours.”

  I reach my hand around to the front of her neck where the black heart-shaped pendant I bought her last year hangs on a thick silver chain. I let my hand linger on it for a moment, thinking about the day I gave it to her.

  “What are you thinking about?” Skylar asks, breaking into my memory.

  I smile dreamily. “I was just remembering the day I gave this to you. The day I told you that I loved you for the very first time.”

  She smiles, as her mind seems to drift back to that day as well. It was such a scary day for me. Even though she had already made the first move by kissing me the week before, it was up to me to decide where that kiss would eventually take us. I was petrified, but I wanted to be with her. I wanted it so much. I needed to find a way to show her that my first reaction to the kiss; of gently stopping it, was a mistake.

  So, I bought her the necklace and told her how I really felt; that I was in love with her and had been for a while. I was just too scared to admit it to myself.