If I Fall

by Anna Cruise

  “How did you know?”

  “I don't. But I'm choosing to believe it.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “How did you know what to do? With...with her?”

  He'd taken charge when no one else had. Marched in and immediately knew what to do.

  He shrugged. He was still shirtless—he'd never gotten his back after draping it across Lauren—and I saw the goosebumps on his arms.

  “I dunno,” he said. “I did some research, you know?”

  “Research? Like for a project?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. For my parents. They were into that kind of shit.”

  I said nothing, just stared at the sand.

  “And I was always worried I'd be the one to find them. You know, come home from school or something and just find them passed out on the couch. I...I wanted to be prepared.”

  My heart broke a little for him at this admission. I couldn't imagine being in that position, knowing your parents were just a step away from disaster. I thought about my own mom. Sure, she had problems, problems that needed to be addressed, but it wasn't like Case.

  “I'm sorry.” It seemed so inadequate but there was nothing else to say.

  “Me, too,” he said, a sad smile on his face. “I'm sorry they pissed away their lives. My mom, she's getting her act together. A day at a time, like I told you. But my dad?” He shook his head. “Lost cause. Has been from day one. Total fucking loser. And that's a hard thing to say about your own dad, you know?”

  I nodded. I knew. My dad was no parent of the year but at least he was trying. In his own way, he was trying.

  “You looked pretty shaken up back there,” he said. He squeezed my hand again. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

  “I just...” My voice trailed off.

  “You just what?”

  I felt the tears well up again. I blinked rapidly, trying to stem them. “I just...I saw myself in her. You know? That could have been me, Case. It should have been me.”

  “Nope.” His voice was firm. “Not you. That will never be you.”

  “Not anymore,” I admitted. “But it could have been. I was on that path. Right next to her, Case.”

  “But you took a different road, Meg,” he said softly. His thumb stroked my fingers. “You got off that path. You did it.”

  I nodded, the tears streaking down my cheeks. Case gathered me up against him and I buried my face against his bare chest. His skin was warm, smooth and I let the heat envelop me, soothe me.

  “It's going to be OK,” he whispered, his lips brushing my hair. “You're going to be OK.”

  I nodded, trying to believe him. But I was still shaky and my stomach was still a twisted, knotted mess.

  I pushed away from him. Gently.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I said. I could feel the bile rise up, could feel my stomach begin to heave.

  He dropped his arms and I bolted toward the concrete building behind us. It was deserted and I launched myself into an empty stall, kneeling in front of the toilet just as I began to throw up. My stomach convulsed and emptied again, my retching mixing with my sobs, echoing in the empty building.

  My stomach finally emptied and the tears finally stopped. I didn't know how long I sat there, my cheek pressed against the toilet seat, the porcelain cool against my clammy skin. My knees were still shaky but I pushed myself up into a standing position and walked over to the sink. There were no mirrors but I knew what I looked like. Hell. I turned on the sink, the water streaming loudly into the basin. I stuck my hands under it and splashed some on to my face, then rinsed my mouth. I shut the water off and I pulled a paper towel from the holder and dried my face.

  I took a deep breath. It was over.

  Not just my relationship with Aidan, but everything associated with him. The drinking. The drugs. The people I'd called friends who would have done the same thing to me as they'd done to Lauren that night—turned away.

  Case was right. I'd turned the corner, gotten off the wrong road. And it had taken me a long time—too long, probably—but I finally saw Aidan for who he was. For what he was. And all the things that went with him.

  I'd fallen. Fallen hard. But not so far that I couldn't pick myself up.

  I smiled to myself. I'd picked myself up. No one else. Me.

  And I could live with that.

  I wadded up the paper towel, dropped it in the metal trash bin and walked back outside. The cool air was refreshing, the breeze hitting me squarely in the face, tossing my hair across my cheek. I breathed in deeply, letting the salty air settle in my lungs, calm me down.

  I was going to be OK.

  Better than OK.

  I took a few more steps away from the building, looking for Case. He wasn't where I'd left him. I squinted into the dark, trying to make out a silhouette or a shadow that might be him. I knew he was still there somewhere, knew that he wouldn't leave me.

  But I couldn't find him.

  I looked the other direction, away from the water. And that's when I saw him.

  Lying in the sand.

  Not moving.

  I ran toward him, my heart racing again, my feet digging into the sand, the spray flying around me as I ran. I reached him and dropped to my knees. He was face down, his body twisted awkwardly. I pulled on his shoulder and rolled him over toward me.

  I tried to scream but no sound came out. A cut on his forehead oozed blood, his hair matted against his skin. A big red spot was swelling beneath his eye and there was blood on his teeth, too. His eyes were open but unfocused. Panic clawed at me and I felt myself begin to hyperventilate, my ears ringing, my heart thumping so hard I thought it would burst right out of my chest.

  “Jesus,” I whispered. “Case? Case?”

  He lay there, motionless, and I began to sob. Because I was convinced he was dead. I lowered my head to his chest, pounding the sand with my fists.

  “Say something, dammit!” I thumped his chest. “Goddammit it. Say something! Breathe!”

  He groaned, something unintelligible and I lifted off of him, my tears of grief morphing into tears of relief. His eyes were still unfocused, his body unmoving against my legs. But he was alive.

  My hands went to my pockets and, once again, I found my phone. My hands shook violently and I fumbled with it, nearly dropping it in the sand. Who did I call? 911? I'd just placed a call a half hour earlier. I steadied myself, trying to get the tears under control as I touched the screen and dialed Sara's number.

  And got her voicemail.

  “Shit,” I said. “Shit!”

  Case moaned again and mumbled something I couldn't understand.

  “I can't understand you,” I said, tears pouring down my face.

  He took a long, labored breath, his chest rising then falling. He moved his head slowly toward me and his eyes focused. “I'm alright,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. He was not alright. He wasn't going to die, but he'd gotten the crap kicked out of him.

  I didn't know what to do.

  “I'm fine,” he said. “I promise.”

  “You need help.”

  He shook his head, wincing at the pain. “No. Just get me home.”

  I looked at my phone, lost in thought. I scrolled through my contact list, knowing all of the people I'd regularly called over the last few months wouldn't come. I hesitated for just a moment, my eyes focused on a name, then touched the screen to dial.

  I held it to my ear and as the phone rang, my eyes lasered in on something a few feet away in the sand, just on the other side of Case.

  A broken beer bottle.

  One that looked just like the one Aidan had been holding.

  I couldn't think about it anymore, about what that might mean, because the person I was calling finally answered.

  “I need help,” I said, my voice breaking. “Please. I need help.”

  FORTY TWO

  Jada and Logan helped me get Case into the car. We put him in the front seat, easing his frame into the
chair. Jada reached around to belt him in.

  Logan touched his shoulder. “You can handle a short car ride to the hospital?”

  He'd grown more lucid and managed a nod. “Yeah. But I'm fine. We really don't need to...”

  “We're going to get you checked out,” I said, cutting him off. “Just to be safe.”

  He tried to frown, but couldn't manage it with his swollen mouth. I was pretty sure the wounds were surface ones but I still thought he should be seen.

  Jada shut the door and turned to me. “Are you alright?”

  I'd called her without much thought. I could have called my dad, could have tried Sara again. But something in my gut told me to call Jada. She'd been my best friend for years and she'd never let me down. Not even when I'd abandoned her, when I'd walked away. She'd retreated but she was still there. Pissed off, for sure, but she was there. And I knew she would come, no questions asked. And she did. The only question she had was where to meet me. She and Logan had gotten there in half the time I thought it would take them.

  “No,” I said. My eyes were swollen from all the tears I'd shed and my stomach and knees felt wobbly again. “But I will be.”

  “Do you know who did it?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Aidan?”

  I nodded again.

  “What an asshole,” she muttered. Jada didn't swear. Ever. “Is he still here?”

  “I don't know.” I'd thought he left during the Lauren incident but clearly he'd stuck around long enough to beat the crap out of Case.

  “I want to find him,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “He's not worth it.”

  Her eyes locked on mine and she frowned. “Not worth what? My anger? He sure as hell is. Look at what he did to Case.” She motioned to the passenger seat. Case sat there, his head thrown back against the head rest. “And look what he did to you.”

  “He didn't do anything—” I started to say but she cut me off.

  “Yeah, he did, Meg. He tricked you. Toyed with you. Told you all the things he knew you needed to hear. He is such an asshole.” Her voice quivered with anger.

  I knew all these things. Every single one of them. But I knew that some of the responsibility of the things I'd done still lay with me.

  “He's not worth it,” I repeated.

  Logan spoke up. “She's right. Let's just get him to the hospital.”

  “No,” Case began to say but Logan shot him a look and he stopped.

  I opened the back passenger door and climbed in, Jada following suit. Logan started the car and we pulled away from the curb, making our way back toward Ingraham.

  I stared at my hands. They were still trembling.

  The car slowed and I looked up, thinking we were at a red light.

  But we weren't.

  We were stopped two blocks from the beach, halfway between two stop signs. Logan sat there, his hands gripping the steering wheel and Jada's hand was on the door handle.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  I didn't need to. I looked out the window and saw what they were both staring at.

  Aidan, standing on the sidewalk. Staring back at us.

  FORTY THREE

  “Let's just go,” I whispered.

  But it was too late.

  Aidan sauntered over, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

  Jada opened the car door and got out. So did Logan.

  Aidan smiled thinly and took a drag from his cigarette. “Well, what do we have here?”

  Jada looked him up and down, the disgust visible in her face. “You are an asshole.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah? You think so?

  “I know so.”

  “Whatever, Ice Princess.”

  She stiffened a little.

  “You got a problem, sweetheart?” he said, sneering at her. “Or you just want a little taste of what the good girl got?”

  Logan stepped forward. “Lay off, man.”

  Aidan shot him a look. “And what the fuck are you gonna do? Pretty sure your motto is 'turn the other cheek.' Right, Jesus freak?” He glanced back at Jada. “I always wanted a piece of you, you know. That hair, those tits. Mmmm.”

  Logan took a swing, his fist connecting with air as Aidan dodged the punch. He might have been too fast for Logan but not for Jada. She stepped forward and, in one quick motion, brought her knee up into his crotch. Aidan's knees buckled and she dropped her knee, then brought it up again. He groaned and collapsed to the sidewalk.

  “Pretty sure no one is gonna be getting a piece of you any time soon, asshole,” she said. She kicked him swiftly in the side and he doubled over, curling into a fetal position.

  Laying there on the ground, I couldn't believe that I'd ever seen him in a different light. As he rolled around, his eyes shut tight, it was like I was seeing him for the first time. As someone I never, ever would've spent a single second with.

  And someone I never wanted to see again.

  “Let's go,” she said to Logan.

  They both climbed back into the car and Logan peeled away from the curb.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked, dumbfounded. When had my best friend turned into some ninja master?

  Jada smiled at me. “Self-defense 101. My parents made me take it, remember?”

  I sat there, my mouth open in shock.

  Her eyes were wet with tears. “Never thought I'd have to use it. I'm glad I remembered what to do.”

  I smiled at her, my own eyes moist. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Jada nodded and reached for me, wrapping me in a hug. “No one messes with my best friend. No one.”

  EPILOGUE

  I pulled the tape gun across the box, sealing the edges shut.

  “Last one,” I said to Case.

  He picked it up and moved it across my bedroom, next to the other boxes lined up against the wall. His arms flexed as he lifted it, setting it on top of a low tower of matching boxes.

  “I just checked with Sara,” he said. “Kitchen is done, too.”

  I nodded.

  “You wanna grab something to eat?” He glanced at his watch. “It's after two. We didn't eat lunch.”

  My stomach growled right on cue. I didn't realize it until then but I was starving.

  He must have heard because he laughed. “I'll take that as a yes.”

  I set the tape gun down on my bare mattress. Case had disassembled the beds earlier that day, both mine and my mom's. While I'd finished packing up my room, he'd positioned himself in the living room, unhooking cables, packing up the components in the entertainment center. The movers were coming in the morning. Not to move us into a new house, but to put our stuff in storage.

  I grabbed my purse and phone and wandered down the hallway, looking for Sara. She was in my mom's room, a half-empty box in front of her. She smiled when we walked in.

  “Hey,” she said. “You done with your room?”

  I nodded. “We're gonna grab some lunch. You want anything?”

  “Nope, I'm good.” She motioned to the bathroom counter. I saw an opened bag of chips and a diet Coke.

  “You cool if we go?” Case asked. “We'll be quick.”

  “No problem.” She folded a towel and placed it in the box. “We're almost done here.”

  Case reached for my hand. “Let's go, then. Before your stomach decides to eat itself.”

  We got in his truck and drove toward the beach. He pulled into Alberto's. “This OK?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You wanna eat here or bring it back?”

  I thought for a second. “Here.”

  He parked the truck and we went into the tiny restaurant and placed our order. A few minutes later, we were sitting at a table, eating quesadillas and tacos.

  “You alright with tomorrow?” Case asked, taking a long drink from his can of Coke.

  I tore off a piece of quesadilla. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “It's not forev
er,” he said. “Just remember that.”

  “I know.”

  “And your mom...” He folded the corner of his paper napkin. “She needs this step. You know? A chance to get re-acclimated to the outside world. A chance to do it without having to worry about you.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “My mom never got that.” He smiled a sad smile. “I think she would have been a lot better off—a lot more sure of herself—if she had.”

  My mom was in a halfway house. She'd been released from rehab after four weeks on the button and, at her counselor's advice, had transitioned to a halfway house instead of coming home. I'd seen her once since she'd gotten out and she reminded me of the flowers Sara had planted in the backyard. Rosy and pink, delicate but determined.

  “I'm not thrilled with living in Hillcrest over the summer.”

  Case nodded in sympathy. “I know. But it was either that or moving in with your dad, right?”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  “And Hillcrest isn't that far.” He reached out and touched my hand. “I'll come and get you. You know that. Be your personal chauffeur.”

  I grinned. “You better.”

  “Promise.” He took a bite of his burrito and swallowed. “Every day. I don't want to go without seeing you this summer.”

  My stomach flip-flopped a little. “Me, either.”

  He lifted his can of Coke again and took another swallow. “When do the new people move in?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. A couple of days, I think. The house closes tomorrow. Sara's got that power of attorney thing for both my mom and my dad.”

  He nodded. “Right. So, that's good.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  I still had mixed feelings about selling the house, about moving, especially since I had no idea where I'd eventually end up. We'd all settled on me living with Sara through the summer. Dad had originally wanted me to live with him but, even though things were slowly improving with him and Cheri, I wasn't ready to be there full time. He'd initially been frustrated with me for that, but Cheri had calmed him down and smoothed things over. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to be with him all the time and Cheri seemed to understand that better than he did. With mom still rehabbing, the only other choice had been Sara. Her garden apartment in Hillcrest had two bedrooms so there was room for me. And we'd grown closer—a lot closer—after the night with Lauren and Aidan.