Shameless (Loving Fallon Book 1)

by Delecroix, Cassandra

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Nick says, drawing my attention back to him. “You probably felt ganged up on. I had no idea he would be there, and things just went…downhill,” he finishes dryly.

  I look away, and that familiar ache begins building in my chest. I really don’t want to talk about this with him. After my conversation with Blake earlier in his car, I’m even more frustrated, and I have no idea how to handle any of this.

  “I know you’re really feeling pressured right now, and the last thing I want to do is make it worse for you.”

  I look at him once more. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  He nods. “I’m not asking you to make a decision right now or anything, but I want you to understand why I want something with you that I can count on. Something that is stable—without another guy added to the mix.”

  “Okay, I’m listening,” I say quietly.

  “You and I had similar childhoods when it comes to abandonment. After my mom died, my dad just seemed to lose it, and all he cared about was drowning his sorrows. He lost interest in me, and I had to fend for myself. You know how that feels, and you understand that desperateness of wanting to feel needed—for someone to care.”

  I nod with understanding.

  “You also fear getting hurt, just like I do. Fallon, I need someone to want to be there. Someone who will make our relationship a priority, someone that I can count on. I don’t want to be filling space for a short period of time until your interest fades. I need more.”

  “That’s what you think? That you’re just a temporary fix of some sort?” I ask with shock.

  “It’s how I feel.”

  “That’s how I felt with both of you. No one’s ever been interested in me, and you two are the first ones who actually want to stick around. I’ve come to realize that you both plan on being in my life if we can ever sort out this mess we’re in, and I need you to understand that if I thought either of you were temporary for me, my decision would be much easier.”

  Nick is silent.

  I look at him pleadingly. “I swear I care about you both. I don’t want you thinking I’m playing some sort of game; this is real to me.”

  “I know,” he says, his eyes holding mine. “The thing is, you have the power to hurt me, and after Blake, that would be a shitty thing to have to deal with.”

  “It goes both ways, Nick. You can hurt me back.”

  He looks at me soberly. “I just needed you to hear where I’m coming from with wanting to keep you to myself.”

  “Thank you for telling me. I just wish I could somehow explain myself better to the both of you, but I’m having a hard time sorting it out myself.” I flatten my lips, looking at my thumbnail on my right hand. “Growing up, no one ever wanted to hear what I had to say, so I’m not good at explaining my feelings or what I want,” I confess.

  “I wish I would have known you when we were kids. We would have made quite a pair,” Nick says lightly.

  A smile forms on my lips as I turn my head to look at him. “We would have been best friends,” I agree.

  We look up as someone comes down the staircase. The girl blushes when she sees Nick, and then she hurries past us and disappears down the stairs that lead to the first level. I tilt my head closer to Nick’s. “She thinks you’re cute,” I tease.

  “Not my type.”

  “You’re right, she doesn’t look like the type to put out on the first date.”

  “I meant she’s not you,” he muses.

  “Such a sweet talker,” I say, playfully giving his shoulder a shove. Then my gaze roams over the areas on his face that are still bruised. “Nick, can I ask you something?”

  “Ask me anything,” he says simply.

  “How often does your dad hit you?”

  His jaw hardens. “When he’s drunk and I’m unfortunate enough to be around.”

  “How often is that?”

  “Not too often anymore. I try to avoid him, and I’m pretty good at climbing out the window if I have to.”

  “We both have a thing for windows, don’t we?” I murmur.

  “That we do.”

  ~*~

  Saturday evening, I walk around the college district, searching for a party to ease the turmoil I’ve been feeling. Blake is out of town with his parents at some business function, and Nick is working. It’s probably for the best that I avoid them this weekend. The pressure is just too much, and I know that if I see one of them, they’ll push for my decision. It doesn’t matter that both have apologized, they still want me to make a choice.

  I walk until I come across a loud house party that is so packed that I’m brushing up against people just trying to move from room to room. With a drink in hand, I enjoy the loud music and watch the college students interact. I have no intention of drinking myself stupid tonight, I don’t want to land in someone’s bed or end up in a situation that I am too drunk to get out of. The point of this party is to get out of the house for the evening so that I can take a break from all the drama in my life—not party and go wild.

  A few guys approach me, and I just smile and tell them that I’m waiting on my boyfriend. They wander off, and I walk to the rec room to watch a game of beer pong. As I stand against the wall, trying to go unnoticed, I can’t help but think back to when I’d first arrived here in Ohio, and I’d gone in search for a party. I’d been alone, looking for a good time and some good sex. It’s ironic how much has changed since then.

  Even though I’m supposed to be distracting myself, I still can’t turn my mind off where Nick and Blake are concerned. I’ve thought long and hard about what my options are, and it all comes down to one—the only one.

  I’m not choosing.

  I won’t.

  If they want me to be with only one of them, they are going to have to make that choice for me, because I refuse to make it myself. Granted, no matter what happens, I’m going to be devastated. Sure, I could date Blake and try to hold onto Nick, that way I’d still have them both in my life, but I think that would be torture. I wouldn’t be happy with just friendship, and I’m betting Nick would be in agreement.

  One of them is going to have to walk away, and I’m quite certain it’s not going to be easy for them to decide. If they want this sorted out immediately, then they can find out what it’s like to have to make a decision that they don’t really want to make.

  As I sip my drink, my brows furrow. I completely understand their need for commitment—well, sort of. I mean, a two-person relationship is the norm, but I’ve known for a long time that I am anything but normal. Did my past cause me to want more than one relationship, or would I have turned out this way even if I’d been brought up in a loving home? I have no idea, and even if I knew the answer, it still wouldn’t change the present.

  Suddenly, I hear screams rise over the music and a loud pop-pop-pop sound coming from one of the other rooms. Everyone looks towards the doorway, and we see people running past. Someone pauses long enough to shout into the room, “Someone’s got a gun!”

  My cup falls from my fingers. It’s a mad-dash to the door, and I’m jostled and elbowed. We enter the hall, and I hear another pop as a girl screams behind me, shoving at me to move faster.

  Whoever is firing the gun is at the front of the house, which means there’s a crowd of people in the hall, trying to rush towards the back of the house. I feel like I’m going to suffocate as bodies push into me from every which way, and with my height, a lot of them are taller. Someone’s pushing hard into my back, and I’m pressed against a broad, male back that’s in front of me. I struggle to draw in a lungful of oxygen. The girls in the hallway are screaming, and the guys are shouting as everyone fights to flee the gunfire. There’s another resounding pop, and the crowd surges even more.

  I stumble, and the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground and getting trampled is my tight grip on the shirt in front of me. The fabric tears but not enough for me to lose my grip on it. The mass of pushing bodies is i
nching forward, and it feels like it’s taking forever to escape.

  When we approach a narrow doorway, I understand now why it’s taking so long. The doorway isn’t wide, and too many people are trying to go through at once, and it’s causing a jam. People are being squished to the side—mostly girls—as the bigger guys push through the doorway and into a kitchen. I’m going to end up one of those terrified girls being crushed if I don’t fight to stay where I’m at—behind the big guy in front of me. I literally wrap my arms around his waist and flatten myself to his back. He stiffens, trying to push my hands off his stomach, but then he gives up as he changes his mind and shoves the guy in front of him.

  He bulldozes his way through, and the second we push our way into the kitchen, I let him go. Everyone is fleeing out the back door, and I am one of them. I’m relieved when I feel fresh air on my face, and then I bolt down the stairs and run like everyone else.

  I don’t know if it’s one person shooting, or multiple people, or if their target is still running behind me, in front of me, or still inside the house. I veer off from the crowd and dart through a backyard and come upon a wooden fence that is waist-high. I don’t even think about it, I just climb straight over and run across the yard until I reach the other side. I’m up and over the second fence in seconds. As I try to distance myself from the crowd that had fled the shooting, I run through yards and down streets.

  Eventually, I am winded, and I have no idea how long I’ve been running down random streets. The houses are now fewer and farther between, and up ahead, I think I see the shadows of what looks like a playground. My side hurts, and I press a hand against it as I walk towards the swing set. When I approach it, I see that the top it is leaning, and I scan the area. Even in the dark, I can tell that the playground is very dilapidated and probably rarely used.

  Shit.

  I’m now in a bad area of town.

  Since I don’t trust the swing to actually hold my weight, I walk over to an old, wooden picnic table. After pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I sit down and swipe the screen to turn it on. My heart is still pounding out of control from my ordeal, and I’m anxious for Nick to come pick me up since I don’t want to wander around an unknown area. With shaking hands, I put the phone to my ear as it rings on the other end. It rings, and it rings until Nick’s voice curtly says, “Leave a message.”

  “Nick, it’s Fallon. I know you’re working, but something bad happened. I need you to call me back,” I say as calmly as I can before ending the call.

  I’m chilled, and I wrap my arms around myself as I anxiously wait for him to call back. Five minutes go by, and it’s at that point that I realize he might not check his phone until after his shift. If I recall correctly, he’s working a late one tonight.

  I don’t want to bother Blake, but I really need to hear a calm and reassuring voice. I call his phone, and his voicemail promptly picks up. Instead of leaving a message, I disconnect the call. My eyes roam the park, and I shiver. What am I going to do now?

  I’m startled when my phone chimes in my hand. It’s a text message from Blake. In the middle of something right now. I’m bored to death.

  Didn’t mean to bother you. Just needed to hear your voice, I send back, feeling a little better now that I am in contact with one of the guys.

  Everything ok? Blake sends back.

  I look around once more, and I hate that I am stuck here until I venture out on my own or Nick checks his phone. I just have a bad feeling that I’m going to run into trouble if I don’t get away from here soon, which is why I decide to be honest with Blake. Maybe he can help contact Nick. I quickly type, There was a shooting at a party, and now I’m in a bad area of town. Nick’s not answering his phone.

  I wait for Blake to reply, and my phone rings a minute later. It’s Blake. “What do you mean there was a shooting?” he demands.

  “There was gunfire at a party and everyone panicked. It was awful, Blake. I thought I was going to get trampled to death or suffocated,” I say shakily. “I ran as soon as I escaped the house. I didn’t know who the target was or what was going on, so I tried to distance myself from the rest of the crowd. Now I don’t know where I am, and I’m scared to walk around any further.”

  “Fuck. Where exactly are you at the moment?”

  “At a playground. It’s really old.”

  “What about a street sign? Are you close to one?” he asks as his voice calms.

  I look up and down the long and narrow street. There doesn’t seem to be any roads connecting to it, at least not in the vicinity that I can see. I must have zoned out while I was running, because I can’t remember how I ended up on this street. “There isn’t one nearby.”

  “What about a park name? Is there a sign anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “I’m an hour and a half away, Fallon,” he says grimly.

  “I know,” I say miserably. Then I think I hear voices, and my breath hitches as I look up. Two shadows are walking down the street, and they look like men.

  “Fallon?” Blake asks sharply.

  My eyes dart around as I look for a place to hide. There’s a small, wooden playhouse over by a merry-go-round that I hadn’t noticed earlier, and I rush for it. After squeezing through the door, I crawl to the corner and hide in the dark.

  I put the phone to my ear and whisper, “Someone’s coming. I have to go.” I disconnect the call and quickly turn my phone to vibrate. Through the crack in the wall, I watch as two guys walk over to the picnic table, their cigarettes glowing in the dark. I can’t hear what they are saying, but they have hoods up over their heads.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I’m frightened the sound might carry, so I turn off the phone completely. I hate to lose my only connection to safety, but I can’t let those guys know that I am here.

  I clamp my lips tightly together and peek through the crack, watching them intently. When they continue to talk and smoke, I begin to relax. They have no idea that I’m here, and there’s no way they are going to crawl inside this little playhouse without a reason. As the minutes tick by, they light up new cigarettes, and I rest my head against the wall of the playhouse.

  Twenty

  “Come on out, little girl. We’ll have ourselves a tea party. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  I cringe as his voice comes through the door, and I huddle in the bathtub, trying to make myself as small as possible. The lights are off, and I’d locked the door, but I’m not sure if it’ll be enough to keep him out.

  I want to call for mommy, but I’d seen her asleep on the couch, and I know she’ll be of no help to me. The last guy that offered to play with me had touched me in places that I didn’t want him to touch, and the memory causes my shoulders to tremble as I wrap my thin arms around my bony knees.

  “If you come out, I’ll give you some candy. I heard you whining earlier that you were hungry. Don’t you want some candy?” he coaxes.

  I press my lips together tightly, my heart thundering in my chest. Something hits the door, and I flinch.

  “Come out, you little brat.”

  I wake with a start, and for a moment, I think I’m still that seven-year-old little girl, hiding in the bathtub in the dark. Then the party and shooting come back to me, and I quickly put my eye to the crack. The guys are gone. Very cautiously, I crawl to the doorway and scan the playground. It looks empty.

  I scramble backwards and lean against the wall, too scared to actually leave my hiding place. I turn on my phone and look at the time. A full hour has gone by, and I have several voice messages and multiple texts. Blake is out of town, so I quickly try Nick again without checking any of the messages.

  He picks up on the first ring and asks tersely, “Why the fuck haven’t you answered your phone?”

  I’m relieved to hear his voice, and I welcome his anger. “I had to shut it off. There was a shooting at a party and I ran off. I got lost and found a park, and then two guys arrived, so I hid.”

  “Blake a
lready filled me in,” he cuts in before I can say anything more. “I’ve been driving past all the playgrounds in the area searching for you.”

  “Blake called you?”

  “He called the shop’s number, which is what you should have done. We’re not supposed to keep our cell phones on us during work hours.”

  “Oh.”

  Nick sighs. “Describe the playground that you’re at.”

  I quickly tell him about the leaning swing set, the merry-go-round, and the little playhouse.

  “I think I drove past that one about fifteen minutes ago. I’m turning around and headed back to that area.”

  I release a quick sigh of relief. “Thanks, Nick.”

  “Are you safe?”

  “I’m still hiding in the playhouse.”

  “Good. Stay put until I arrive and call your name,” he orders. “I need to call Blake back, he’s flipping out over the way you disconnected your call with him,” he adds.

  “Tell him I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to take any chances that the vibration would carry,” I say guiltily.

  “You did the right thing. It’s just been a hellish hour not being able to contact you. Call me if anyone approaches the playground before I get there.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you soon,” he promises.

  I end the call and peek out the crack again, verifying that the playground is still empty. Now that I know Nick is on his way, I begin to relax as I wait patiently, watching for headlights. This really is an abandoned area of town, because there’s not a single car in the area, and the few houses that line the street are completely dark. If those guys had found me, I’m betting there wouldn’t have been anyone in the surrounding area to hear me scream.

  After what feels like forever, but was likely only five or ten minutes, headlights appear driving slowly down the road. Instead of moving to the door, I watch through the crack as the car pulls over.