Jump Then Fall

by Alyssia Kirkhart

  I opened the door, and there he was. Here. Or…there, as it were. In the hall. On the other side of my room. Real, in person, and looking like a girl’s wet dream in black skinny jeans, a black leather jacket, sunglasses hooked in the unbuttoned collar of a gray Henley. His blond hair was perfectly coiffed, the signature hard part and pompadour that would’ve made James Dean fire his barber. But his equally gorgeous smile was gone, his blue eyes hard, his freshly-shaven jaw set.

  “Lawson. What—” A shrill oh my god, is that really him? nabbed the words out of my mouth.

  Lawson rubbed the back of his neck. “Could I come in, please? It’s gettin’ a little thick out here in the hall.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stepped aside. His scent washed over me as he walked past, and I shut my eyes, willed myself to calm down. Just calm the eff down, Evans. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. In fact,” I said and released a nervous laugh, “I thought you were a robber or a rapist or something.”

  He turned around, arms open, palms out. His eyes. How could I have forgotten how beautiful his eyes were? How emotional and expressive? “Just me. Flying four thousand miles to see the woman I love.”

  Lara let out a noise that garnered both our attention. I’d forgotten she was here. As always, once Lawson entered a room, everything and everyone in it seemed to vanish. The bed springs groaned as she stood and rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans. Never in the weeks since I’d met her had I seen her smile so big.

  “Sorry. Lara, is it?” Lawson stuck out a hand to her. Ever the gentleman. “Hi, I’m Lawson. Lawson Hill. We spoke on the phone.”

  “Yep. Pleasure to meet you.” A wash of pink tinged Lara’s cheeks. Her eyes darted to me.

  Wait. What?

  “You two talked?” I blinked, processing. “About me?”

  “Only briefly.” Lara let go of Lawson’s hand, tucked a braid behind her ear.

  “Why?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Well, I didn’t want him to get lost on campus. How many times were you late to class, because you took a wrong turn during that first week? It’s a big place.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “It really is a big place,” said Lawson. “I appreciate you texting me the layout, where to park, how to get to the right dorm.”

  “Court,” Lara corrected. “And it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Anger coiled around my chest, rushed up the sides of my neck. “This is a straight up violation of trust and privacy and…and…trust.”

  Lara rolled her eyes as if she was dealing with a petulant teenager. “Yeah. Okay. So, I’m gonna go. Give you two some privacy. Nice to meet finally meet you, Lawson.”

  “Thanks, Lara. Likewise.” The door clicked shut and Lawson’s gaze found mine.

  We were alone. Sharing the same small space. In utter silence.

  I licked my lips. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Gosh, Harper, you look beautiful.” He started toward me. “Feels like it’s been months since I’ve—”

  “Hey, hold on a second.” I thrust out a hand, backed up a step. Distance. I had to set distance. Four thousand miles, as he’d put it, was a whole lot of ocean, but now he was here, and I was grossly unprepared.

  “—laid eyes on you.” Two perpendicular lines formed between his brows. “So, that’s it, then? This is how it’s going to be? You running away, me chasing you, only to find out you’re unhappy to see me?” He ran splayed fingers through his hair, turned away from me.

  Hands set to his hips, his gaze raked the room. He took in everything. The portraits, the tiny desk and chair, the small pile of clothes on the floor I needed to take to the laundry. His face revealed nothing. Indeed, it was as if he was merely educating himself for a paper he had to write later.

  Or maybe a song.

  My throat tightened and I lifted my chin, set my jaw. Now was not the time to get emotional. “How is Bella?”

  His eyes connected with mine. “Fine. She’s fine. Good. My mom, she loves her.” His gaze flitted to my stomach, back up to my eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.” Horrible.

  His throat dipped. “You haven’t been sick or anything? Nauseated?”

  “Not right this second, no. Sometimes, yes. My doctor says—”

  “You’ve seen a doctor? You didn’t—sorry.” He lifted a hand in apology. “I just wish I could’ve…” He passed the same hand over his hair, shoved it in his jacket pocket. “You were saying?”

  “She says the morning sickness will eventually go away. That—can I ask you something?”

  His head jerked. Brows lowered. “Of course.”

  I shifted on my feet. “Why did you come here? You traveled all this way to what? Ask me how I’m feeling?”

  “Harper.” He exhaled an airy chuckle, shook his head.

  “No, I’m serious.” I moved closer to him.

  Then did the unthinkable.

  I took his hand. The contact made us both draw in a sharp breath. As if for these three weeks we’d been apart, a piece of each of us had been missing.

  “Your career’s been picking up,” I said. “Interviews, shows, music videos.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been watching?”

  “The negative narratives are finally fading. People love your new music. I love your new music.”

  “And you’ve been listening?” His eyes narrowed even further.

  “Why would you risk any of that?” I tightened my hold on his hand. For emphasis. For selfishly wanting to steal his warmth a little longer. “Why take the chance that you’ll spend another several weeks at the mercy of the tabloids?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I was never at their mercy.”

  “Lawson.”

  “I’m at your mercy, Columbus. Have been since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  Much as I wanted to—knew I needed to—push Lawson back out the door, I couldn’t muster the strength to do it again. Not with his determined glare, shimmering with so many emotions, pinning me to the very spot where I stood. His eyes. Those eyes always told me everything. I didn’t stand a chance of winning this battle.

  “You want to know why I came?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. “Yes, I do.”

  “Because I want you to come home.”

  His words didn’t compute, and I reacted with, “I can’t leave school. There’s no way—”

  “I’m your home, Harper.” He enclosed my one hand in both of his. “Just like you’re mine. If it’s your job or your education, as it were, that’s holding you someplace, then that’s where I want to be, too. Wherever you are, I belong with you. And you belong with me.”

  That did it. One moment I was fine. A little misty-eyed, sure, but otherwise in relative control of my emotions. The next?

  I was bawling like a newborn.

  “Harper.” Lawson took me in his arms, breathed in my hair. Held me close. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I c-can’t h-help…”

  “Shh.”

  My anger flared. “Don’t shush me.”

  “Fine. I won’t shush you.”

  For minutes, he held me. I cried. All the ache I’d kept cooped up for weeks burst out like water gushing from a rock. No dam. No spicket to turn it off. I trembled in his arms. Soaked his shirt with my tears. There might’ve been snot on his jacket.

  But he held me. Without a word. Without so much as a gentle murmur or another shh.

  When I finally opened my mouth to speak, the words came out in a warbled whisper. “You are the k-kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known.”

  “Harper,” he breathed.

  “No, listen.” I gripped the lapel of his jacket. “You say and do what’s in your heart. And it’s a wonderful place there, Lawson, your heart. Full of warmth and love and understanding. Compassion, patience. And honestly?” Tears continued to leak from my eyes, skating down my cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Har
per.”

  “I don’t. You’re everything and I’m…” My teeth chattered—dammit. “I’ve got a father who’s in prison, a penchant for making bad decisions, apparently.” I turned my face into his chest, wishing I could hide from the shame, the deep guilt I still felt for not putting the pieces together sooner about my dad. It wasn’t my fault. I realized that, sure I did. But I couldn’t stop the tide of emotions that rose every time I looked back. Every conversation, every carefully calculated move, the most pivotal being our relocation to Nashville.

  The move that geographically separated my father from what he’d done, or so he’d thought.

  The move that brought me to a boy with sparkling blue eyes. The boy who taught me it was okay to need someone.

  “I messed up,” I said. “I messed us up, Lawson, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left like I did. I’m sorry I didn’t have the c-courage…”

  “No, Harper.” His arms tightened around me. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not for anything.” He stroked my hair. “And you don’t owe me an explanation. Not me, not anyone. Do you understand? God, baby. I love you so much. Please stop crying.”

  “I’m p-pregnant, Lawson. I always cry.”

  His hands bracketed my shoulders, and he dipped his head, urging my eyes to meet his. “It doesn’t matter that you left or how you left. Because you and me? We’re not done, and I would’ve followed you anywhere, Harper. I will follow you anywhere.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Because I love you. With all that I am, I love you. And I want to be with you, no matter where you are. Nashville, London or in a cardboard box on some desert island, where we have to spear fish and walk around naked.”

  A wobbly laugh escaped me.

  “If I’m with you, I’m home.” His eyes shut and he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Make a home with me, Harper,” he whispered against my skin.

  Those six words, so simple yet so profound, breathed life into me. They healed every wound, sealed each scrape and cut.

  My heart was full of him.

  “I love you, Harper.” He kissed my lips. My face was in his hands. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Lawson.” And nothing had ever felt truer.

  epilogue

  “I forgot the milk.” I tilted my head back, stared at the ceiling of our tiny flat in our tiny kitchen that could only hold one of us at a time.

  Especially since my belly took up almost the entire space between countertops.

  “Did we tell Alexa?” Lawson squeezed past me with a bag of carrots in one hand, celery in the other. He was making soup. His mom’s recipe. She’d emailed it to him last night after we’d Facetimed. We did that at least once a week, just to check in and for her to coo over how big my stomach was getting.

  “Probably not.” I scratched the bridge of my nose. “I’ve gotta get better at that.”

  “Don’t sweat it, okay? I’ll pick some up tomorrow on my way back from the studio.” His hands framed my face, coaxing my gaze to meet his. “What did we say we were gonna do?”

  “Not sweat the small stuff.” Which, to Lawson, was pretty much everything.

  I’d applied and been approved for a place off campus, a family flat, as they put it. In reality, we could’ve fit our entire apartment into Lawson’s Nashville kitchen. But it wasn’t just that.

  Lawson had to make arrangements with his label to come here. Contractual arrangements. From what Savana had said, it hadn’t been easy. Lawyers were involved. Hours spent at conference room tables, poring over pages of entertainment law. Lawson Hill wasn’t just a man—he was a brand. One in which many had invested. To some degree, they owned him. He couldn’t just up and leave without working out tour, recording and appearance details.

  He’d pushed, though. Katie said she’d never seen him so determined. He couldn’t sleep, she’d told me. Wouldn’t listen to anyone who presented obstacles instead of solutions. He had to get to you.

  And in exchange for his success in getting his way, he’d given up almost everything he’d grown accustomed to. His gated mansion. His large recording studio. The support team who’d been with him since the beginning.

  All for me.

  Never once had he uttered a complaint.

  Quite the opposite, he was more optimistic than a SoulCycle instructor. The move, the apartment, the sharp change in his musical career, the fact he couldn’t find real southern fried chicken in London to save his life. All trivial to him. Not even obstacles, he’d said. More like minor divots in the pathway.

  He’d put together a new band. Found a small but decent recording studio. And we were happy. Cramped and out of our element, but happy.

  “That’s right.” His thumb swabbed my cheek and with an ease that never failed to amaze me, he molded his lips to mine.

  I loved kissing him. I loved kissing him so much sometimes I wished we didn’t have to stop. That breathing wasn’t necessary, and we could just kiss forever. And maybe that was ridiculous. Certainly, no two people could kiss forever. But with Lawson I couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t stop wanting him, needing him, longing for his company, his touch and, yes, his kisses.

  He pulled back, kissed me on the nose. “I love you. Did you know that?”

  “Well, you know, I was getting a little suspicious.”

  His face lit up. He kissed me again, lighter this time. Pulled me close, or as close as he could, considering the enormous beach ball between us. “Fine. Then, have I told you lately how amazing I think your name would sound with mine?”

  I tucked my lower lip between my teeth. He had.

  “Harper Hill.” He rubbed my upper arm as I laid my head against his chest, my arms wrapped around his waist. “I mean, that sounds better than my name. Like way better. We could even hyphenate it, if you want. Harper Evans-Hill. Like a big screen actress or something.”

  “Lawson?”

  “Yeah, babe.”

  I held up my left hand.

  Where he’d placed an engagement ring two months after we’d moved into the flat.

  “Oh, that’s right!” He’d called me the actress, but of course he was the more dramatic of the two of us. “You know about that, too.”

  “Kinda.”

  And this was our life. Sure, we had to work at it. School took up a lot of my time. Lawson stayed busy, too. Writing, playing, recording, then writing more. His fame was simpler here. Easier. Most days, we were able to go out without him being bombarded by fans. But there were other instances when we couldn’t grab a quick bite to eat without at least one person recognizing him. Which inevitably led to another and another, autographs on napkins and receipts, and us fleeing back to our apartment.

  Before, whenever I looked ahead at my life, at how I imagined it turning out, I never once thought I’d be with someone the whole world knew. Sure, every little girl dreams she might one day meet and marry a prince. But in reality? Well. Reality’s however we make it. Step by step, day by day. And while princes may’ve been meant for fairytales, I couldn’t imagine a finer man than the one who told me daily how much he loved me. How much he needed me.

  He gave me a final squeeze and I made a sound. I ached everywhere those days. My knees, my back, my boobs.

  “You okay?” His gaze traveled up and down my body, as if searching for a cut he could bandage. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine. I just—” Apparently peed my pants.

  We looked down at the same time. That’s something I knew about, too. Our minds, connected like train cars, running on the same track. We’d been together right at a year, and yet it felt as if it’d always been me and Lawson. That there hadn’t ever been a time when we weren’t an us.

  His gaze met mine, panicked. “I don’t have the bag packed.” He was right. We didn’t. I wasn’t due for another three weeks.

  “Babe, it’s fine, I—”

  But he was already running toward the bedroom, presumably to throw clothes and toiletries into an overnighter.

  “—thoug
ht we agreed not to sweat the small stuff.” I smiled to myself. Shook my head. Waddled toward the bedroom to see what I could do to help, if anything.

  There was a lyric Lawson liked. To be fair, there were loads he liked. Beautiful lines of prose he murmured and sang at any given moment. In the shower, while he cooked or cleaned, as we were walking hand in hand in the park. But this one. This one struck me in that particular moment. A line from a Moody Blues song he had on an old vinyl record.

  Well, I’ve had dreams enough for one. And I’ve got love enough for three. I have my hopes to comfort me. I’ve got my new horizons out to sea.

  New horizons. That’s what we had, Lawson and me. Every turning page of our life together, every day brought something new. Something beautiful and precious.

  Something that would last a lifetime.

  The End

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing acknowledgments for my ninth book is both surreal and utterly humbling. I wouldn’t be able to do this—to envision, write and publish—without these amazing souls.

  To my friends and beta-readers, your support, ideas and feedback continue to encourage me more than you will ever know. None of this would be possible without you.

  Kimberly. Friend, editor, sister. Your persistence and encouragement soar beyond the universe. I am beyond blessed to have you on my team.

  My incredible family, who may not always understand, but continue to lend their love and support, anyway.

  To my late grandfather, the best man I’ve ever known. You taught me courage, strength and love in the face of the darkest moments of my life. And that one should never shoot goat pellets out of one’s nose.

  To my readers for your loyal support. You ceaselessly remind me the story is worth telling.

  Last but not least, to all the artists I’ve had the honor of knowing throughout the journey thus far—most especially the musicians. You know who you are. This book wouldn’t have been a book without you.