Falling Deeper (Falling Series)

by Lucia Grace

  As soon as I make it over all the girls stand and embrace me. First, one by one, they carefully wrap me up in their comforting arms. Then they all move in for a group hug. Careful not to jostle me too much.

  “It’s so good to see you out and about,” Tracey says, as she pulls away from the group hug.

  “Finally,” Amber adds. Snarky smile in place.

  “It’s good to be out.”

  We all take our seats and as Tracey and I look on, Sam and Amber start gossiping and talking like the last couple of weeks never happened. And I couldn’t be more thankful to them for that.

  As the conversation flows and we’re all still sitting around our usual table, thirty minutes later, the bell above the door jingles and all the air seems to get sucked from the room. I’m facing the door, but before I even lift my head I know who has just walked through.

  It’s confirmed when Amber, who’s sitting to my right, gasps then murmurs, “Oh my,” loud enough for most of the shop to hear.

  As I make eye contact with Kayson, Tracey leans across the table and whispers, “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

  I swing my head to look at her before bringing my gaze back to Kayson. It’s like there’s a magnetic force between us, because whenever he’s around me, I can’t keep my eyes off of him for long.

  “No, don’t be silly.” But she is so damn sweet for asking.

  “Is that him?” Amber says quietly as she leans into my ear. She doesn’t need to explain which guy she’s asking about, because even though Kayson walked through the door with the very good looking Paxton Miller, only one of them can’t take their eyes off of me.

  Back in college I told Amber about Kayson. Along with discussions here and there since then. But she’s never seen what he looks like.

  Until now.

  “Yeah,” I reply, barely audible over the chatter amongst the shop, as I get lost in taking him in. “That’s him.”

  Kayson has yet to move away from the door or take his eyes off of me. He’s just standing there, taking me in as I do the same to him. He’s wearing a dark blue short-sleeved shirt with his last name stitched on the front and dark blue slacks, the standard uniform that the Pleasant Beach EMTs wear.

  Huh, he’s a medic?

  Man, does he make it look good. The short sleeves are stretched by his bulging biceps and the pants fit snugly on his muscular thighs. As my eyes peruse back up, passing what I’m sure is still a six-pack, back up to his face, I blush when I realize that he caught me ogling him this whole time. My face must be red as a damn tomato, and I can’t help but duck my head slightly to try to hide behind a curtain of my dark hair.

  Kayson shakes his head lightly when he notices, before tossing that damn dimpled smirk my way. Causing my blush to deepen.

  He turns away, still smirking, and my heart flutters.

  I watch as he places his order, grabs his coffee, then walks out of the shop with one last look.

  And one last smirk.

  My heart flutters again.

  Damn you stupid heart.

  KAYSON

  “So you know Ember Martinez?”

  I slam the passenger door to the ambulance a little harder than I intended when I hear Paxton say Ember’s name.

  I was lucky that my boss back in Pembrooke was understanding about the family emergency I had to get back to. Grant was always great. He was the reason I became an EMT in the first place. Grant was my sponsor when I first got clean and got out of rehab. When I started going to meetings he told me that he saw something in me and asked if I ever thought of trying to help others. When I told him I had, he let me know of the program at the local community college, helped me get enrolled, and then nine months later I was certified. It’s thanks to him, along with Damon, that I was able to get ahead.

  So knowing that he’d understand, I called him amongst the debris after my breakdown in the kitchen, and told him I was giving my notice and leaving effective immediately. I just didn’t let him know the family emergency was for my ex-girlfriend. He didn’t know that the only family I had left was my mom and that she died a few years ago. All her drinking finally caught up to her. Good fucking riddance. This world is better without her tainting it with her hatred and bitter soul.

  When I told my boss I’d be moving back to Pleasant Beach, he told me a buddy of his worked for the fire department and knew they were hiring another EMT. It was like it was meant to be or some shit. So I packed the few belongings I had from my apartment, loaded up my truck, and drove the few hours back home, praying for the first time in a long time that Ember would survive all this.

  I clear my thoughts, then my throat of the growl of jealousy crawling up it, before I reply. “Yeah, I do. Or I used to.”

  “Used to?” Even though I’m considered the new guy to the squad, I forget Paxton only moved here a couple of years ago so he wouldn’t know about the history between Ember and me. But that doesn’t mean his questions are no less pissing me off. I hate that he even looked at her and now he’s speaking her name and asking questions.

  Getting pissed may make me seem like an asshole, but I really don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to try to get my girl back. And after the look Ember just gave me while she stared at me, I think I may actually have a chance.

  I’m thinking she may have caught on to me with the gifts I’ve been sending her all week. I kept it anonymous for a reason, but guessed that she’d figure it out sooner or later.

  Looks like it was sooner.

  “You both couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other, so I’m guessing your ‘used to’ means there was more than friendship between you two?” Paxton breaks me from my thoughts.

  “What we are or aren’t doesn’t really concern you. Neither does speaking her name.”

  Paxton snaps his head in my direction after starting up the ambulance, a look of confusion taking over his face. Then understanding takes over and he smirks.

  “The fuck are you smirking about?”

  “Oh, nothing. I heard you were an asshole. But I didn’t take you as some whipped asshole.”

  “What the fuck did you just say to me?” My tone incredulous.

  “What?” His tone knowing. “You just went caveman on me for simply saying her name. Before that you had a dopey look on your face when you were lost in thought. You’re a whipped asshole.”

  I take a long look at this fucker. Tan skin, styled dark-blond hair, blue eyes. Your average All-American golden boy. And he’s calling me dopey?

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to like that. But it isn’t me. Mind your business and we’ll get along just fine. All right?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  I think he’s finally done talking, but he isn’t.

  “Dopey.”

  That motherfucker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EMBER

  Sam convinced me to make it out for our monthly lunch date at Sophie’s Kitchen. When I walked in I wasn’t surprised to see Tracey and Amber sitting there too, at our usual table. It had been almost two weeks since meeting them at The Coffee Press, and almost the same amount of time since I’ve heard from Kayson, too. A day after I saw him another package showed up at my doorstep.

  What I was surprised about though, was the ambush of them trying to convince me to go out with them for a girls’s night.

  Although I shouldn’t have been.

  They informed me that I had felt sorry for myself long enough and that it was time for me to get back to the land of the living. They understand what I went through was traumatic. They just don’t want to see me revert back to those dark days again. Those were Amber’s words.

  I rolled my eyes but of course agreed. I can never say no to them.

  At my agreement, Sam whooped so loud the entire diner looked over at our table in time to see Amber and Tracey high-five then proceed to do a happy dance in their seats. I tried to shush them and hide behind my menu as the
y giggled at my discomfort. Enjoying it per usual.

  As I’m stepping out, shaking my head at remembering their antics and trying to think of what I will wear tonight, I’m not paying attention and bump into a solid wall of muscle.

  I stagger back a small step and look up into the kind hazel eyes of Damon, who’s dressed in uniform. A smile stretches my face as I blush in embarrassment.

  “Always so graceful,” he mutters through a chuckle in his deep drawl.

  “I know, sorry. I just left the girls and they had me lost in my thoughts. They’re trying to get me to go out tonight,” I reply as I roll my eyes.

  I step away from the door when he indicates with his right hand to follow him as he shakes his head at my response. One side of his mouth lifting into a smirk revealing one of his two dimples. “I should have known.”

  We fall in step and share a small laugh before we stop at the corner and his face turns serious. I know what’s coming before he even asks because he always gets the same, hard look on his face before anything to do with the shooting is brought up.

  “How are you feeling?” His voice is deeper and rougher than it was just a moment ago.

  “I’m good, Damon. I’m doing real well. Still a little sore, but I’m doing better,” I reply softly.

  “You know you don’t have to lie to me, right?”

  The confusion I feel must be playing out on my face because before I can ask what he’s talking about, he responds, “I see the unease and fear behind those rich eyes of yours, Em. So don’t lie to me and tell me you’re okay when I know you’re losing sleep at night. Just know I’m always here for you to talk to if you need to.”

  There’s no sign of happy-go-lucky Damon to be found, as a look of understanding seems to cross over his face, behind his eyes. Like he knows the same pain. But it passes just as quickly, as does the subject.

  “Have you told him?”

  I’d much prefer to go back to discussing my sleepless nights and admit the truth about my nightmares then discuss what I know he’s asking.

  “He deserves to know,” he states simply yet firmly. “I could understand why you kept it from him all these years. I didn’t agree with it, but it wasn’t my place. But now that he’s back, that he’s made it clear he’s here to stay, he has a right to know.”

  As his words settle over me, a mixture of pain and shame consume me. Pain at the reminder and shame for still not telling Kayson about our son.

  I lower my eyes as to not see the disappointment in Damon’s. “I know he does, Damon. I know. I just haven’t found the right time.”

  “There will never be a right time, Em. I mean, fuck. He may have made some huge mistakes in his life. One of the biggest being the way he ended things with you. But no one is perfect and he has every right to know.”

  My eyes snap back up to his. The audacity of him!

  “I know he did, Damon!” I say in a low and guarded tone. “I know he has a right—”

  “No, I don’t think you do, Ember. And I think you like punishing him for his past mistakes. I think you like it too much. But I also think you’re scared because you know it won’t end well for you.”

  I look up at Damon. Shocked, saddened, and outraged. Tears threatening to fall.

  He sees the emotion flit across my face and his eyes soften.

  “Look. I’m not trying to be an asshole.” I scoff at him. He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t play games. You know this. So when I say I’m not trying to be an asshole, I fucking mean it.” He shifts his stance, bringing his arms to cross over his broad, uniformed chest. “But what I am trying to do is push you in the right direction, because in order for you both to move on and heal, whether as a couple or not, you need to tell him what he’s lost. Because as much as you hate it, he does deserve to know.”

  With those last words, Damon mutters a “think about it” and leans in to place a kiss to my cheek before walking off behind me.

  Leaving me too stunned to reply.

  The run-in I had with Damon plays like a highlight reel through my mind. I can’t shake his words.

  How did he know about my nightmares? Each night as I close my eyes, they ravage my dreams and tear through my thoughts.

  I still can’t shake that feeling of fear and desperation. I can’t unhear the screams of the kids, the exploding sound of guns being fired, Damon’s frantic voice as he fell to his knees by my side to apply pressure to my wounds. To cradle my head in his lap and pleading with me to hold on. I can’t unfeel the burn of the bullets singeing and tearing through my skin, fighting for breath, warding off the darkness.

  I relive each scream, each sob, and each bullet.

  So how did he know when nobody else does?

  Then there are his thoughts and opinions on the biggest issue. The secret I’m not telling Kayson.

  It isn’t that I’m trying to punish him. I’m not. I’ve just let it go for so long, and so much time has passed since the loss of our son, that telling him now feels wrong.

  I know he deserves to know. He did four years ago and he does now.

  But I know once I reveal to him the loss of our son that I won’t be innocent in this anymore. And I’m not ready to forgive him yet.

  A wave of sadness washes over me. I know I’m being selfish, but I can’t bring myself to tell him yet. I will. I have to. But I just can’t yet.

  Steeling my resolve, I push my conversation with Damon to the back of my mind to focus on the here and now, and right now it’s time to finish getting ready for girls’s night.

  The girls have been trying to get me out of the house for two weeks now. Pretty much since the minute I arrived home from the hospital. But I’ve been putting it off for as long as possible because of the shooting and then my recovery.

  So needless to say, I’m not too surprised that they ambushed me the way they did this afternoon with the news that we’d be going out tonight.

  No questions, no refusals.

  I needed drinks, dancing, and dick, as Sam so eloquently put it.

  That girl. Let me tell you. Spitfire.

  I was told, well demanded really, that I be ready by 8:00 p.m. sharp and they’d be here for a pregame drink while picking me up. These girls have had my back for so long I finally had to give in. They’ve pulled me out of my shell, brought out my sass, and have dried more tears and caused more laughs than I could ever count. So here I am, standing in front of the full-length mirror that hangs from the charcoal gray walls of my bedroom, assessing my outfit choice, when my doorbell rings.

  I walk down the hall fidgeting with the too-tight, too-short dress that Sam insisted I wear, that she knew I was hiding in the back of my closet. I finally make it to my front door as it bursts open with three of the most beautiful women I know—inside and out.

  Lord help us, the men will be salivating tonight.

  Sam and Amber burst through first with Tracey following closely behind. All dressed to the nines and ready to dance.

  Sam has her long, dark auburn hair done half up, half down with a poof on her head. Her makeup is done up like a pro. And she’s rocking a fire engine red dress adorned with a sequined bodice.

  Tracey, who is all firecracker on the inside and timid on the outside, is wearing a deep magenta dress with her light brown, waist-long hair done up in loose curls like mine. Lightly done, flawless makeup enhances her features and her shoes are to die for.

  Then there is Amber, who is dressed in a royal blue baby doll dress and black heels topped with a bow at the ankle. She has her medium-length, red hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

  What I was hoping to be a low-key night out with my girls definitely won’t be happening with the outfits this group is wearing, that’s for sure. I should have known better.

  I snap out of my assessment of my best friends as I hear Sam let off a wolf whistle. I spin around to my living room to see all the girls huddled together now, assessing me.

  “I knew that dress was perfect for tonight. You
look smoking hot, babe.”

  I blush under their scrutiny and the collective agreement amongst the group.

  Amber walks into the open kitchen and places a bag down on the kitchen counter before rummaging through my fridge for the soda she’s sure to find.

  She pulls it out and places it next to the bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter before asking, “Drinks or shots?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EMBER

  After an hour and a couple rounds of drinks and shots the girls and I stumbled onto the elevator and made our way down Main Street to the only club in our small town, Smoke.

  We walk right by Mo, the bouncer, just like every other Saturday night we’ve come to dance. He gives me a chin lift and a “good to see you” before I make it inside behind the rest of the girls.

  The familiar scene of club-goers dancing, drinking, and flirting welcoming me into the dimly lit club.

  I take a deep breath as a feeling of normalcy comes over me. I guess the girls were right; coming out tonight is going to be good for me.

  As I scan the club in front of me, taking in the modern and industrial atmosphere, I startle when Sam and Tracey come up to me.

  “I’m going to go find a booth and then meet them on the dance floor,” Sam shouts over the music blasting through the club, vibrating off the walls and dancing bodies, as she points to Tracey and Amber to my left. “Do you want to come with me or go straight to the dance floor with them?”

  Sam bumps my hip at her question, and I wince slightly at the tenderness I still feel in my stomach. The walk over in heels probably wasn’t the smartest idea. She sees the flash of pain cross over my face before I can cool my features. I offer up a small smile before I give my response.

  “I’m going to walk over to the bar to order a round of drinks, then I’ll go over to the table you choose. I’m going to sit this dance out for now.”

  She nods in understanding and gives me their drink orders before we all split up.

  After placing the order with the bartender behind the bar and asking them to deliver to the booth I point to behind me that Sam picked, I make my way over to it. I offer a few apologies after bumping into a few gyrating bodies between the chrome high-top tables, and huff a breath as I plop into the booth seat.