“I’ll stay for a few minutes.”
“I was hoping for all night...or forever.”
I frown, because I feel my resolve slipping away. That’s not what I want. I want answers first. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I told you the thing with Mary Jane was nothing. She’s in my past. You’re in my future.”
I take a deep breath and speak through a tangled web of emotions. “It’s not about that.”
He sighs. “What’s it about then?”
“You shut me out when you went to California. And I know you tried to explain things before New York, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. It makes me wonder if you ever will, and it makes me realize how little I really know about you.”
“You know me, Charlie.” His voice is soft, coaxing.
I shake my head. “That’s bullshit. You and I both know it. You’re not the same person you were in high school. Going to war changed you.”
“I’m the same person—”
I throw up my hands, cutting him off. “Spare me the crap. Either be real, or I’m out of here.”
He sighs and pulls out one of the stools, gesturing for me to take a seat. I do, and he sits next to me. “The way I treated you after Daniel killed himself was unacceptable. I reacted the wrong way,” he says. “I was torn, and I figured I had two options. I could let it all out and scare you off. Or I could hold it in and try to keep you.
“What he did was just so messed up—really, really, fucked up. He put a deer rifle in his mouth and took his own life. In his mother’s kitchen, right in front of her, Charlie. When I heard that I freaked out, because I want to protect you from that kind of thing, not bring you into it. It made me sick. So, so sick.”
My heart shatters into a million more pieces in my chest, and I reach out for his hand.
He lets me take it and continues talking. “It’s not just Daniel who’s messed up either. It’s all of us. Do you remember Beck?”
I nod my head.
“He’s out of his freaking mind too. The world isn’t big enough for him since he got back from the war. He’s jumping out of planes, racing cars on the streets, doing drugs, fighting with anyone and everyone—doing anything he can to catch an adrenaline rush.
“And Evan. He’s a great guy. But he’s in therapy three days a week, because the dreams he has at night are that bad. We’re all a little fucked up, a little out of our minds. I don’t want you to see that side of me.”
“But I want to know that side of you, Jackson,” I say quietly. “I want to know what you struggle with.”
He smiles but it’s small and sad. “I don’t have nightmares or anything. I guess I just struggle with my own head, with my memories. There isn’t a day that doesn’t pass that I don’t make myself sick thinking about Adam or some other soldier who didn’t make it home.
“I spend hour upon hour wrecking myself, thinking about what I could’ve done different. Finding ways to blame myself. No matter the situation I always find something that I should’ve done—could’ve done different. Something that could have saved someone.
“I lost my damn best friend. I lost him. I’ll never get over that. Never. It’s always going to hurt, Charlie. It will always make me sick. I’ll never accept it. More than any of the other guys, Adam was my brother. I was most connected to him, and I would’ve given my own life if I could’ve just saved him. I would’ve done anything to save him. Anything.”
Tears build in his blue eyes, and before I know it he breaks off in a sob. And just like that all the walls he’s built to keep everyone out come tumbling down. I pull him into my arms and steer his head against my chest. He’s holding on to me like I’m his last breath. And somewhere in the mix of all this, I start to sob too.
I’ve never seen Jackson cry—ever. He’s so vulnerable and open right now. It’s heartbreaking. I’d do anything to take this pain from him, but I can’t. I can only try to help him through it. “You’ve got to let it go, Jackson,” I say when the sobbing subsides and he gets quiet.
He takes a deep breath, head still buried in my chest. “It’s not easy. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You need to talk about it with someone. With me...a therapist...anyone.”
“I’ll talk to you.” He lifts his head to look at me. “And a therapist. I’ll do anything to keep you in my life.”
I slip my hand over his and interlace our fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”
“Promise?”
I smile and nod my head. “Promise.” I lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips.
His hands reach up and tangle in my hair, cradling my head, holding it in place. He runs the tip of his tongue along my lower lip, and I open my mouth, allowing him to intensify the kiss. His tongue sweeps across mine and he pulls me in tight.
It’s incredible and perfect, and different than ever before. I didn’t think I could be drawn to him in any other way, but I was wrong. The attraction for him is so much more intense, and our relationship so much stronger, now that he’s been so emotionally open with me. It’s like there’s a chain wrapped around my heart, one that’s tangled and connected with his heart too, and it’s anchoring us together.
He pulls away and runs the tip of his nose up the length of mine, his breath ragged. “I love you.” His lips brush against mine with the words.
“I love you too.”
More than anything.
Chapter Twenty-One
We’re in my father’s backyard, grilling and swimming, just as we were the day I found the prescription bottle in his medicine cabinet. I was happy then, before I knew about his cancer, but I’m happier now.
“How was his chemo yesterday?” Taylor asks, floating gracefully on a raft in the water.
I kick my feet through the water. I would jump in if I didn’t have an anchor casted to my right arm. I smile down at the dazzling purple cast. It’s not so bad, and it’s temporary. “It was good. He talked about baseball the entire time, though.”
I let my mind wander to my first experience with my dad’s treatment. It was something else, not what I expected at all. It made me realize how oblivious I’ve been. I’ve spent the majority of my life in my safe, little bubble, and I’m finally stepping out of it.
The biggest thing I took away from the day is that cancer affects everyone. It affects men and women, children and teenagers, all walks of life. It’s scary in that way—no one is safe from it. But there’s something else to be said about my time there, and that’s of the people who surrounded those getting treatment...the parents, husbands, wives and friends. The people trying to be strong for those who can’t be strong for themselves. Cancer is scary, of course it is, and I’m not saying I’m not scared of it. I’m terrified, but I am stronger than my fear. For my father I’ll always be there, and together we’ll beat this. I know everything is going to be all right, because I have faith that it will be.
Taylor laughs and propels herself to the edge where I sit. “Jackson told Devin that Stewart is out on bail,” she says, getting serious.
I take a long, shuddering breath in and raise my chin. “He is.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Karma will have his way with him. I just have to be patient until his trial... He’ll get what he deserves then.”
She smiles up at me and lifts her sunglasses to her head so I can see her blue eyes. Reflections of the water sparkle in them. “I’m proud of you.”
I laugh and splash her with a kick. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Hastings. Our story isn’t over yet.”
She arches a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’s next?”
“A wedding, of course.”
Her eyes spark. “Yes. A Hastings wedding with a Charlie Day maid of honor.�
��
“Yep—unless you’re going to ask me to wear something peach and taffeta. Because I’m not okay with that.”
“You will wear what I wish, and you will look fabulous,” she says dramatically. Then she blows me an air kiss and kicks off the side, sending her raft to the other side of the pool.
I tilt my face up and close my eyes. I finally feel healed. I can be alone with my thoughts and not want to run. I don’t have anything to push away, and I don’t need whiskey or wine. And that’s both amazing and freeing.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by my dad’s laugh. It’s loud and loose, and he’s got his head thrown back, arms thrown around Jackson’s and Devin’s shoulders. He’s happy. The happiest he’s been since we lost Adam. We’re both the happiest we’ve been since then. The Day family has finally found some peace, and a broken soldier from the war brought it to us.
* * *
Later that night I sit alone on the boat dock and stare up at the night sky. I count the stars—there are so many, a vast blanket of twinkling lights. They hold so many stories. I wish I knew them all. I know one, Adam’s story, and that’s enough. I smile to myself. “Hey, big brother,” I whisper aloud. He hears me, wherever he is, I know he does. Maybe he’s with the wind today, or in the waves.
I hear footsteps approaching me on the dock. “There you are.” Jackson plops down beside me. “What’re you doing?”
“Looking at the stars,” I say. “What’re you doing?”
“Looking at you.”
I laugh softly. “I’m not much to look at.”
“You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand across my cast. “And this is kind of cute, too.” He trails his hand up my arm to my shoulder then across my collarbone and to my neck. He slips it beneath my jaw and tilts my face up. “I love you, Charlie. More than anything in this world. You know that, right?”
I nod and press my lips against his. “I love you more than anything in this world. Even ice cream.”
He grins at me, and I grin back. The only thing I feel is happiness and love. Everything in this world is finally right.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in tight. I’m safe and loved and never alone. For the first time in my life I’m undefined and free and jumping headfirst into a new Chapter of life with the person I love most in this world.
Epilogue
I stand with my back against an old oak tree as I watch Charlie place new flowers on Adam’s grave. She brings each rose to her nose and inhales before she sets it down. She’s smiling and talking to him quietly. Telling him about the new school Claire will be attending in the spring and how well her father’s chemotherapy has been going. She’s happy. Thank God she’s happy.
After a while she stands and brushes the dirt from her jeans. The wind picks up, and it sends her long hair blowing. She shivers and pulls her jacket tighter around her.
I open my own jacket and pull her into it. “You ready to go?”
“Yes.” She looks up at me with a dimpled smile. “Let’s go home.”
I dip my head and press my mouth to her soft lips, sending shock waves between us. When I pull away she’s blushing. God, I love that blush. I love everything about her. I think I always have.
I smile and reminisce about the time she made pancakes in my kitchen. She was dancing and wearing a bikini. The pancakes were awful, maybe the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. But they were perfect.
I remember the way her dark hair fell around her shoulders, wild and untamed. And I remember the shine her green eyes had. She had pancake batter on her face, and her hair smelled like my shampoo. I remember everything about that day.
I thought I loved her before, but in that moment I knew I did. I knew I loved her, wanted to marry her, never wanted to be without her. I should have told her right then—but she knows how I feel now, and that’s all that matters.
* * *
Charlie’s voice echoes down the stairwell and into my office. “Jackson!”
I climb the steps, taking them two at a time.
She sits up in bed and yawns. “Where were you?”
“Working.”
She looks at the alarm clock and frowns. “It’s after midnight.”
I smile, amused. “I had a lot of work to do.”
She lets her head fall to the pillow and rolls her eyes.
I laugh and push a strand of hair away from her face. “The back of your eyes look like my mother’s.”
She rolls them again. “Very funny.”
Then she’s biting her lip, and my breath catches. I move to cover her, letting my hips push her down. I kiss her, slow and purposeful, focusing on the pounding of her heart beneath my chest.
“I love you,” I say against her lips.
“I love you too,” she whispers back.
The words hit hard, and they reach all the way to the soul. I love the way they sound coming from her lips—like they’re a secret, a secret we keep between the two of us and away from the rest of the world. This is our love.
She’s my home now. Some days are difficult, because I left more than sand in the desert. I left family there, hundreds of fellow soldiers still fighting, my brothers—soldiers who deserved to come home just as much as I did, if not more. It’s not fair to them, and it hurts when I think about it. But stronger than my bond with them is my bond with her.
This is where I belong. To her soul I’m anchored...we’re intertwined in a way that can never be undone. She’ll always be mine, and I’ll always be hers. It’s that simple. Above all else I choose her.
I’m finally home.
* * * * *
About the Author
Melissa Guinn is a caffeine-driven respiratory therapist by night, and a writer by day. She was born in West Texas, where pump jacks outnumber the locals, and you never forget to say “yes, sir” and “yes, ma’am.” It’s in West Texas that she currently resides with her husband, their two dogs and half-tailed cat-dog.
Melissa’s first novel, written in a Lisa Frank spiral-bound notebook, is still a source of endless family jokes, but she never put the pen down. Headfirst Falling is her debut novel.
Melissa is a happy-ending enthusiast. In life and in love, she believes that they still exist...and that they always will. You just have to find them, so keep looking.
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IISBN: 978-14268-9638-5
Copyright © 2013 by Melissa Guinn
Edited by Rhonda Helms
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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