Free Falling (Falling Novella Series Book 2)

by Shirl Rickman

  “I didn’t get you shit. I came for the food,” Jasper says just before he stuffs another bite into his mouth. A wide, full smile crosses his face. We all roll our eyes. Jasper is the youngest in the family. He’s a twenty-two-year-old recent college grad, and the only one of us who took after my mom with the blond hair and green eyes.

  “Parks,” I say as I reach into my pocket and pull out a twenty-dollar bill. “Happy birthday, bro.” I hear my dad and Jasper laugh quietly from either side of me. Kelsea rolls her eyes and places a wrapped box on the table. “Here. If you don’t like it, too bad,” she tells Parker. Tyler shrugs his shoulders when Parker looks over at him.

  My mom stands up and walks into the house briefly, coming back with a birthday bag as Parker tears into Kelsea’s gift to him.

  He pulls out a navy blue O’Neill sweatshirt and gives her a hang loose gesture. Kelsea smiles.

  Mom hands him his gift, and he opens it and smiles because, as usual, my mom baked him chocolate chip banana bread and gave him gift cards to three of his favorite local restaurants. She’s always trying to feed us now that we’re not all at home anymore.

  We all sing “Happy Birthday,” eat cake, and laugh. Rosie’s still in the back of my mind, but for the first time all week I’m feeling pretty good.

  A week later, I’m sitting on my couch, flipping through the channels when a loud knock echoes through my studio. I close my eyes and debate whether I want to ignore it or answer it. The longer I stay on the couch, weighing my choices, the more persistent the knock becomes, and I realize my choice has been made for me.

  Standing up, I toss the remote onto the sofa as I walk away, but it bounces off and clatters to the floor.

  As I shuffle to the door, the knocks come in shorter, harder, like the person on the other side is getting more annoyed with the fact I haven’t answered yet. “God damn it, Drew! I hear you in there, so open the damn door,” Parker’s voice roars through the cracks of the doorway. “I’m not leaving,” he continues.

  Pulling the door open silently, I turn back for the sofa immediately without saying a word to my brother. I don’t even look at him. I may have let him in, but I’m really not in the mood to talk. I hear him close the door behind me as I bend over to pick up the remote and flop back onto the couch.

  “Jesus, Drew.” Parker sounds exasperated and confused. “What’s gotten into you? Mom says she hasn’t talked to you since my birthday and you haven’t returned her calls, only texted saying you’re busy. You’re lucky I volunteered to come here, or she and Dad would be at your door now. You wouldn’t want that because the way you look right now, Mom would be trying to get you in a bathtub so she could bathe you like when we were kids.”

  Without looking away from the television, I mumble, “I haven’t felt like talking.”

  “Apparently, you haven’t felt like showering or shaving either,” he says sarcastically as he takes a seat on the couch next to me. I can feel his gaze burning against my face, waiting for me to say more, but when I say nothing, Parker continues, “What the hell is up with you, Drew? You were off at my party last week, and the silent treatment tells me something is going on. So, what is it?”

  I take my eyes away from the television as the commentator yells, “Goal!” and set my attention on my brother as he stands a couple of feet from me with his hands on his hips. What do I say? We tell one another everything, but this is the one thing I’ve never discussed with anyone. Not even Parker.

  I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I’m screwed up.”

  “No shit, Sherlock, but you’re also stupid if you think I’m going to leave this alone because you tell me you’re screwed up,” he informs me, his eyes never leaving my face.

  “I broke my rule. I fucking broke the one rule I’ve set for myself and kept for the last ten years,” I confess, running my hands over my face. “I got too fucking cocky, Parks.”

  He sighs, walking over to the couch and taking a seat next to me, resting his elbows on his knees. Although we never discuss it, he knows what rule I’m talking about. A few minutes pass before either of us says anything.

  “Dude, you started dating someone?” Parker sounds so shocked it almost makes me laugh.

  “Nope. Not exactly, anyway,” I respond, a little shock seeping into my own voice. “It’s worse. Or better…no, it definitely feels worse right now.”

  As he looks over at me, I see the shock is now covering his entire face.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him.

  “Like what?” He tries to school his features.

  “Like I told you, I have a twenty-inch penis,” I joke. He cracks a smile and so do I for the first time in a while. There’s something about being around Parker that makes it impossible for me to stay in a complete funk.

  “Seriously, Drew, quit talking in riddles and get to the fucking point,” Parker says, turning to face me.

  “Her name is Rosie. We met by accident and became friends. She was different and funny and beautiful…and she had no idea. She has no idea,” I tell him.

  “And? This is a problem because?” he asks.

  “The problem is I got cocky…I let my guard down. She came to me with a proposition because she wanted my help being more confident and dateable, so to speak. She wanted to be different. I tried to change her mind, and then she said she would just find someone else. I didn’t like that at all. I didn’t want her to get hurt by some douchebag. She convinced me she’d be fine and said she understood my rule. I made sure we knew there was a line I would never cross.”

  “So what? She didn’t really understand? She fucking fell in love with you and tried crossing that line, didn’t she?” Parker guesses, shaking his head at me.

  “No,” I confess. “I’m the one who fucking crossed the line.”

  You know in movies or cartoons where someone says something so shocking to another person that their mouths fall open? Parker just did it. He’s staring at me, mouth open wide with disbelief.

  “Close your mouth, Parker.” I begin pacing when he shuts his mouth but remains silent, so I continue, “I wasn’t as in control as I thought.” The commentator yells, “Goal!” again, but I’m not interested in what’s happening behind me. It was just a distraction today, so I reach for the remote I laid on the coffee table and switch the television off. “I crossed the line, and when I had my chance to prove to her I just might be capable of the commitment I told her I would never make, I blew it by running scared and showing my ass.”

  Parker looks like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure what it should be.

  “I pushed her away, and now she is scared to trust me. I hurt her. I became the douchebag I wanted to save her from when she approached me with this deal,” I explain further.

  “Does she want more with you?” he asks me, suddenly breaking his silence.

  “I think so. Or at least I thought so…before…maybe,” I stutter out. The idea she doesn’t want more between us makes me nervous.

  “What about you? Are you sure of what you want?” Parker continues shooting out questions, digging deeper, but I’m not sure where he’s going.

  “Yes. No…yes, it scares me. Parks, I miss her. No, I don’t just miss Rosie. I ache for her. I physically feel her absence from my life,” I confess shamelessly. “Jesus, Parker. How did I let myself get in this position?”

  He stands and walks over to me, slapping his hand on top of my shoulder. “Damn, dude. I don’t know, but you better think of something quick to fix it because I’m not dealing with your heartbroken ass for another ten years. Plus, Mom wouldn’t be able to take it again.”

  Parker is right. I need to figure this out because I can’t go on floating in this sea forever, or eventually, I’m going to drown.

  Sitting on my board with my spandex-clad legs dangling in the frigid water, I wait for the perfect wave. I wait for the adrenaline rush that comes with it. The one that makes me feel free and excited when I allow it to take
over. There’s danger, a risk with every wave I take, especially the big ones because the reality is, we aren’t in control out here. The ocean is. Mother Nature and all her unpredictable ways. I enjoy the risk and take it anyway.

  It’s the exact feeling I have when I see Rosie. Touch Rosie. Talk to Rosie. I’m not blind to the fact I didn’t choose to take this risk because my heart was at stake. Now, I’m stuck trying to figure out how I can paddle back out and get my second chance.

  My hair is still wet with salt water when I walk into The Roasting Company. I breathe in the scent of coffee beans that fills the air. Feeling relaxed and determined, I allow my eyes to roam over every face in the room, hoping to see one in particular.

  “She hasn’t been in the shop for over a week,” a familiar English accent says from behind me.

  Swinging around, I try to hide my disappointment from my features. “Who?” I ask, trying to act nonchalant. Andy’s face doesn’t change. He doesn’t say anything; he only studies my face. I realize how idiotic I must sound. Who am I kidding? Not Andy. “All week?” I finally say.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, mate,” Andy consoles, squeezing my shoulder as he walks around me and heads for his position behind the counter. I want to tell him I’m not disappointed, but that would be a lie. I am disappointed, and I need to stop hiding how I feel when it comes to Rosie, or I’ll never convince her I believe we belong to one another.

  Instead, I turn to the counter to order, feeling a little resigned to the fact I need a better plan than finding her in the coffee shop or showing up on her doorstep. When I meet Andy’s eyes, I shrug. “I need to talk to her.” Telling him this small fact feels like I’m confessing my deepest secret, and that alone tells me it’s a good thing Rosie isn’t here. If she were, I would likely make our situation a bigger mess than it already is.

  “Yes, mate. You do.” He hands me my iced black coffee before continuing, “And she needs to talk to you. Do you want to chat a bit? I’m taking my break now.”

  I give him a nod then turn and head toward a table in the corner.

  As I take a seat, I think about Andy’s straightforward reply. He never sugarcoats anything; he just keeps it real. Always telling me as it is. It’s what I like about him.

  I’m deep in thought when he sits across from me a few minutes later and asks, “So tell me, mate. How are you going to fix this?” Okay. Right to the point. I look up at him and can’t help the tiny smile that forms on my lips.

  “Well, I have no damn clue, man. I’ve barely come to terms with my emotions myself; how can I convince her I’m someone she should bet on? Give her heart to me instead of running the other way,” I answer honestly.

  “I can’t answer that for you. Only you and Rosie will know the what it will take. You’re the only two people who know what has transpired between the two of you. My only advice to you is this, Drew. Life can move swiftly by us. We often waste too much time forgetting to live it. Time is the one thing we act like we have so much of when in reality it’s the one thing that’s limited. So I can only tell you this about your situation: If you don’t want to wake up one day and find that Rosie isn’t waiting, then you need to be honest and reach out, take hold of her and savor every moment like it’s your last,” he offers.

  His words hit me right in the chest. I heard every word he just said; I only wonder if I’m capable of doing what it takes. I wonder if I can allow myself to be vulnerable. To take the risk I’ve taken before.

  Without another word, he stands and walks away, going back to work.

  I’ve got a lot to figure out. If I want to convince Rosie I’m all in, it’s going to take more than just saying it. I’m going to need something more. Be more.

  “Drew?” I hear a feminine voice say from behind me. My hand pauses on the door handle of The Roasting Company’s entrance. Turning, I find the face of Sami smiling brightly at me.

  Ah, Sami. One night on the beach of an impromptu bonfire party Parker decided to have after a day of surfing. Sand in all the wrong places, but fun and feisty nonetheless. I haven’t seen her since, but I would like to pat myself on the back for remembering her name.

  “Wow, Sami. It’s been a while,” I say, returning her smile. “How have you been?”

  She takes a step closer, and her eyes get that familiar look in them anytime I run into a girl I shared some fun with and remember her name.

  “I’ve been great. How about you?” she replies, face still bright.

  “Good…great, I’ll be even better once I get some caffeine in me.” I gesture over my shoulder toward the coffee shop.

  “I was headed in there for some coffee myself. Would you like to sit down and catch up for a bit?” she asks, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. Although I’m used to seeing this kind of look and am a pro at deflecting it, I realize Sami is harmless. It won’t hurt to sit with her for a minute.

  “Sure, I have a few minutes to catch up,” I tell her, pulling the door open and holding it for her.

  When we walk in, I notice the usual Saturday afternoon crowd, although the line is short. We each order and pay for our drinks, then we take a seat at an empty table in the middle of the room. Laughter and conversation around us, and Sami leans forward and takes a sip from her cup. I watch her, thinking about the fact that she’s pretty. I never noticed. Well, okay, so I obviously noticed the night of the bonfire, but I didn’t look at her beyond having a little fun in the sand with her. I feel a wave of shame move over me.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I say, “I’m sorry I never called you.”

  She looks up me, a slightly startled look crossing her features. I can tell she isn’t sure how to react to what I just said. Then, suddenly, a wide smile envelops her face. “Drew, I didn’t expect you to call. You were very clear about what you did and didn’t want. I was very aware of what I was doing. We had fun, and that’s what we were both looking for that night.”

  It’s true I’m always up front with anyone I’ve spent time with or been with when it comes to my intentions. But does it make it okay? I feel like I’m better than that, and they are too. I never even tried. So that begs the question, why did I break my rules when it came to Rosie?

  “I still should’ve at least called or something,” I repeat.

  “Thank you. How’s Parker?” she asks, moving on from that topic.

  “He’s good. You know Parker, he only cares about surfing, and that’s what he does,” I reply, thinking about my brother and the way he just does what he wants without apology.

  She laughs, another smile lighting her face. “I do. I doubt that boy cares about anything else. No offense, but that’s so typical for guys around here. Surfing is life.”

  Chuckling, I nod my head. “You know it. At least until we have something else to care about in our lives.” Again, an ache makes itself known in the middle of my chest. God damn it. I gotta get out of here and figure this thing out with Rosie.

  “Well, I better get going,” I say, standing at the same time she does. “Yeah, me too,” she concurs. “It was really great seeing you again, Drew. Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime soon.” Reaching out, she touches my arm lightly. I look down briefly at her hand resting on my arm, and then I lean forward and give her a hug. It’s something I wouldn’t normally do, but I’m trying to do things a little differently these days. As we pull back, Sami pecks me on the cheek. She gives me one last bright smile and leaves.

  It’s strange to think, but it’s like the last fifteen minutes with Sami gave me the last dose of clarity I needed with regards to Rosie. I just need to get my plan together and then find Rosie.

  Picking up my coffee from the table, I turn to the door and freeze.

  Standing in a line that extends nearly to the door is Rosie. She’s staring right at me, and from the look on her face, she saw me with Sami. I can’t seem to move, and she isn’t blinking. We’re just staring. Doing nothing. She breaks contact first, when the guy standing behind her leans over her should
er and whispers in her ear. When he straightens, I see his face and recognize him as Travis. The same guy she went out with on the night of our big fight. Instantly, I feel sick. It must be written on my face because her expression changes too.

  Quickly as I can move, I make my way to the door. Just as I reach it, I take one last glance behind me, and I find Rosie is still watching me. Except this time she isn’t the only one. Travis is watching me too, and judging by the look on his face, he isn’t excited to see me.

  I need to get out of here.

  Turning back around, I push my way out onto the street, away from Rosie, the one girl I’ve wanted more than for just one night.

  By the time I reach my apartment, I’m even more confused about how I’m feeling.

  Misunderstandings.

  Miscommunications.

  Guilt.

  Heartache.

  Fear.

  I allowed this to happen. Can I really be angry? If she cares so much about me, then why is she out with him? As soon as I think this, I try to recall if Rosie has ever told me exactly how she feels, or did I just make it all up in my head based on what I’m feeling?

  Slowly, I climb the stairs of the front stoop to my building, trying to work through all of these emotions. Why did I run out of there? Why am I always running away from what I want? I want Rosie. I’m going back. Whipping around, I come to a dead stop when I see her standing at the bottom of the steps. She’s turned partially away as if she came, but decided to turn away before letting me know she was here.

  “Don’t leave…” I say almost desperately. “Rosie.”

  She pauses, but doesn’t turn around. I know I need to think of something. I know I need to touch her. Moving toward her, I reach out, lightly gripping her wrist. She turns her head toward me, eyes wide and full of something I’m not quite sure I can put my finger on. Rosie simply shrugs her shoulders. It’s like she doesn’t know what to say either.