On The Way Down

by Fox, Ella

  On The Way Down

  She was too young.

  He was too famous.

  Shaelyn Monroe was only seventeen when she met larger-than-life action star, Garrett Riordan.

  He thought she was a breath of fresh air.

  She thought he was out of her league.

  Their attraction was something neither could ignore.

  They shouldn’t have worked…

  But somehow, they did.

  Everything was perfect.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Could their love survive what happened on the way down- or had it always been too good to be true?

  On The Way Down

  Ella Fox

  On The Way Down

  © Ella Fox 2018

  ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-945399-23-7

  Paperback ISBN: 9781728896595

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Editing: Gemma Rowlands

  Proofing: Judy Zweifel

  Cover Design: Kari March of Kari March Designs

  Playlist

  Playlist

  When Doves Cry- Prince

  You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away- The Beatles

  Like Cockatoos- The Cure

  Every Little Thing She Does is Magic- The Police

  Under the Milky Way- The Church

  Half a Person- The Smiths

  Nothing Else Matters- Metallica

  Here Comes the Sun- The Beatles

  Release- Pearl Jam

  Ring of Fire- Johnny Cash

  Fields of Gold- Sting

  Teardrop- Massive Attack

  Sweetest Perfection- Depeche Mode

  Sign Your Name- Terence Trent D’Arby

  Something- The Beatles

  I Could Not Ask For More- Edwin McCain

  Author Note

  Dear Reader,

  After you’ve read On The Way Down I’d be super grateful if you’d leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  I humbly request that you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE not spoil what Shaelyn & Garrett’s exact issue is in the review.

  Some people got snippy when I made this same request for my last book but as an author one of my priorities is preserving every readers experience as best I can.

  You can love or hate a book and leave an honest review without detailing every single plot point—at least that’s what I believe.

  Happy Reading! Xo

  Ella Fox

  October 2018

  Chapter One

  January 2001

  Shaelyn

  The ability to continue functioning when you were completely dead inside was one of life’s cruelties. In my opinion, losing everything and having to go on without any outward signs that you were dying inside was bullshit. Without visible clues of pain or crisis, people assumed that everything was fine—even when that wasn’t the case. I’d spent the day working with packers and moving men, all who probably thought I was okay. They hadn’t known the emotional cost I paid with each box being taped shut. It should have been a relief when they left for the day, but it wasn’t. I was unsettled, and nothing was going to change that.

  Being alone in the house had me at loose ends. The ghosts of a life I’d once loved but had destroyed danced around me like tiny motes of dust in sunlight. I bit my lip and twisted a lock of my chestnut-colored hair between the thumb and index finger of my right hand as I surveyed the fruits of a day full of labor. The front entry area that we’d utilized as a staging zone for my move was full of boxes of my things, all stacked in neat and orderly rows, taped shut, and labeled. The closet I’d spent the afternoon putting into wardrobe boxes lined one wall and the furniture I was taking, just a desk and a sewing table, had been wrapped in moving blankets. It was unsettling to realize that my life had been condensed into one of the smallest rooms in the house. Still, it was done, and everything was ready to be put on the truck in the morning.

  And yet… and yet… I knew something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but I was positive that whatever I was forgetting was the most important thing. I checked the stacks again as I racked my brain to figure out what it could be. Something teased at the edge of my mind the way a gnat buzzed around whenever you ate fruit outdoors. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what was missing. When my train of thought was derailed by the sound of the garage door opening and closing, I knew.

  It wasn’t what I was forgetting.

  It was who I was leaving behind.

  My immediate reaction to his arrival was joy—he’s home—until reality slammed into my bubble of denial and it burst, allowing all of the things I was trying to avoid thinking about to crash into me.

  The house was no longer a home. When the moving men came back the following morning to load the truck, that would be it for me. The next place I’d rest my head was temporary—a bridge between one part of my life and whatever came next. I didn’t know what that meant long term, but I did know I needed to meet it head-on. I couldn’t waffle or allow even the smallest opening.

  I was no longer the girl who’d fallen so in love she’d foolishly allowed herself to forget that life was cruel. I’d re-learned that lesson a dozen times over and it was imperative that I retain that knowledge.

  His footsteps echoed across the travertine tiles on the floor in our kitchen as he got closer to where I was. Pushing my hair back, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and gave myself a quick pep talk. I’d called and told him what I was doing eleven hours earlier. Surely I could do it again in person.

  His choked inhalation told me he’d made it into the room—which meant he was seeing all the things that were packed and ready to go.

  “Jesus, Shae… I can’t believe you’re really fucking doing this.”

  In a lot of ways I couldn’t either, but I’d never tell him that. As prepared as I was ever going to be, I turned to face him, keeping my expression as blank as possible as I did. It had only been six days since I’d seen him last, but it felt like a hundred years. It hurt like hell seeing how exhausted he looked because I knew what was happening between us was the reason. In addition to the dark circles under his eyes he’d lost some weight. I wanted to soothe him, but that couldn’t happen anymore.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded. “You should be on set in New York.”

  His head reared back as if I’d slapped him. “Fuck the job and fuck anything else that would make you leave me. I’m here because you’re here—and I belong wherever you are. If you need me to quit, I’ll quit. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. I'll walk away from everything but you without hesitation. Don’t quit on us, baby.”

  The sadness on his face paired with the desperation in his voice was physically painful. It felt as if the weight of a thousand bricks had just settled on top of me, and I could feel myself sinking even further emotionally under the weight. I was so exhausted it was a miracle I was still upright. I was tired of him, tired of us, but most of all, tired of myself. No matter how I presented my reasons for doing what I was doing, he’d never understand.

  “If we belonged together, it would’ve been easier,” I told him. “There’s a reason things happened the way they did.”

  He made his way toward me slowly, as if I were a doe he’d spook with any fast movements. His logic was proven sound when I automatically took a step back at the moment he got close enough for us to touch.

  It had been a close call. I’d had to bite my cheek and force myself not to
run into his arms because I needed to feel him more than I needed my next breath. Unfortunately, life had taught me that what we yearned for wasn’t always aligned with what we deserved.

  “I’m not giving up on us,” he said, his tone of voice solid and determined. “No matter how big of a wall you build or how much space you put between us, I know that we belong together.”

  I knew he believed those words as he said them, but that wasn’t our reality.

  The decision to end things was more for him than it was for me, but he would never believe that.

  The movers were scheduled to return the following morning and I’d not planned to stick around for that anyway. Our housekeeper would oversee that part, which meant I didn’t have to stay. Hardening my resolve, I pushed past him and hurried into the kitchen. Grabbing my purse off the counter, I headed for the door.

  “Please, Shaelyn, don’t do this. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, to fix us. Don’t leave,” he begged.

  I could barely see through the tears in my eyes as I reached for the chrome door handle.

  “Stop this. We promised we’d never quit!” he roared.

  I balled my fists so he wouldn’t see how badly my hands were trembling. “You shouldn’t have come back, Garrett. We’re not doing this anymore,” I said stiffly.

  I ignored him as he continued trying to engage.

  I probably looked stubborn and determined, but what was happening inside of me was another story entirely. It cost me more to turn that door handle and leave our home than he would ever know.

  July 2001

  I should have gotten up and moved the second he sat down. Being seated next to Garrett was torture. I wasn’t dumb—I’d known damn well what it would cost me. You’d think I’d have gotten used to the way every single one of our interactions weakened me, but I hadn’t. Each meeting, phone call, text, e-mail, and letter left a fresh bruise in its wake.

  “We can still stop this,” he declared, uncaring that all of the lawyers at the table heard him. “I’m never giving up on us, Shae.”

  There were two things I knew for sure.

  The first was that he meant every word.

  The second was that I loved Garrett Riordan in a to-the-marrow way. He was in my blood and I would always belong to him, down to the tiniest parts of matter inside of me. I could not and would not ever love anyone else.

  It was that very thing—the love I had for him—that kept me from throwing myself into his arms and agreeing to stop it all. I didn’t care about myself—but I did care about him. Whatever naïve hopes I’d once held about destiny and love conquering all had withered and died. No one ever talked about the way love sometimes required extreme sacrifice. Letting go of Garrett was mine.

  I blinked away my tears and swallowed past the lump in my throat. “It’s too late,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion as I picked up the gold pen from the mahogany conference table we were seated at.

  It had taken several months to work through the legalese involved in the dissolution of our marriage. After all the back and forth—mostly him delaying while he’d tried to force me into therapy, then making me take a settlement I didn’t want and never had—it took me mere minutes to scribble a signature in all the places I needed to. My part was complete.

  I watched in silence, my heart shattering in my chest as his lawyer checked my signatures and then passed the pen to Garrett so he could start signing. I held back a wail when I saw the way his hand trembled, his normally bold signature giving way to an almost illegible mess.

  After it was all over we left the lawyers’ office together, the silence between us on the elevator ride down to the garage damn near deafening.

  Garrett cleared his throat and turned to look at me as we got to our cars. I wasn’t surprised to see his convertible black Bentley Continental parked right next to my white Jeep Grand Cherokee. He’d purposely chosen that space to be close to me.

  “Come to lunch with me,” he said.

  “Why? It’s over. We’re over,” I cried. “No more lunches. No more anything. This is the last time we’re going to see each other, dammit.”

  He made a harsh sound and shook his head. When he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around me I didn’t immediately push him away. I wasn’t strong enough to do it. In spite of all the ugly between us, I loved him so much it physically hurt me to deny him.

  Once upon a time I’d believed that love would guarantee a lifetime of happiness.

  I’d been wrong. Love wasn’t magic—it was fallible. Ours had been broken into a million tiny pieces that could never be put back together.

  I knew he was holding back tears when I felt his chest heaving beneath my cheek.

  “I fucking hate that you believe this is it,” he choked.

  “Signing the papers sealed it,” I answered, my voice thick with unshed tears.

  I felt him shaking his head. “No, Shaelyn. You wanted to end this part of our lives together and I couldn’t stop you—but that doesn’t mean we’re over. We’re so much more than a fucking piece of paper.”

  Normally one of the things I loved most about him was how damn stubborn he was. Right then, it just made me angry. I felt cornered, like a caged animal who’d had enough. I needed to get away from him so that I could lick my wounds.

  “You don’t listen!” I snapped.

  His jaw tightened as his eyes blazed down into mine. “Neither do you,” he countered. “Our foundation is solid—we can be rebuilt. My heart was made to beat along with yours. Until the day I die, it’ll be you. I love you so goddamn much, Shaelyn. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

  He was killing me with every word, mostly because he didn’t realize that my part of our foundation was Three Mile Island toxic. I knew if I didn’t get away from him I’d confess that truth. And if that happened, he’d never, ever let go—no matter what that meant he’d be sacrificing. I pushed against his chest and stepped back, sniffling as I wiped away more tears.

  “I love you, too,” I admitted, “but at the end of the day that doesn’t change anything. One of us needs to be strong enough to walk away.”

  I knew I’d never forget the panic on his face. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please—”

  I shook my head as I dug into my purse and pulled out my key fob. With two clicks my doors unlocked and the engine turned on. When he reached out for me again, I raised my hand to hold him off.

  “No more ‘I’m sorrys.’ No more ‘I love yous.’ We both need to accept the truth—we were doomed from the very beginning. Goodbye, Garrett. I wish you nothing but the best.”

  “Goddammit, Shae, this isn’t over! I’m going—”

  “Please,” I begged, “no more.”

  He looked at me like I’d asked him to walk on broken glass that had been coated in corrosive acid. Unable to say anything else I turned, opened the door, got into my car, and drove away. As I pulled out of the parking garage into the bright LA sunshine, my mind took me back to where it all began—and like the glutton for punishment that I was, I let myself fall into the memories.

  Chapter Two

  May 1998

  “Color me shocked that you’re actually ready on time.” My mother’s faux tone of disbelief grated heavily against my nerves. Her need to take all of her anxiety out on me was annoying as hell. I’d been over it for a long time and was only growing more annoyed by the day. Our relationship was so bad that it felt as though we lived in a boxing ring, laced up and ready to spar at all times.

  I let out a huff and gestured to the backpack sitting by the back door. “I told you I’d be good to go, Jewel.”

  Ignoring my tone, she shrugged and rolled her eyes. “In my time, I’ve been told a hell of a lot of things that haven’t turned out to be accurate. Why, just last night you told me that you’d clean your room. A quick peek in there this morning revealed that you didn’t follow through. I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said snidely.

  She had nerve giving me shit. Sh
e’d pulled me out of school at what was nearly the end of my junior year and taken me to shit ass nowhere, against all of my pleas not to do so.

  My right eye twitched with frustration as I reminded myself for the eight trillionth time that it wouldn’t be long before I graduated high school and could move on. I was counting on absence smoothing our mother-daughter dynamic into something less hateful and bitter. Maybe if we saw each other once a year we’d have an easier time being pleasant. More likely than not, it wouldn’t make any difference. She saw me as an enemy and I saw her as a bitter person with no redeeming qualities.

  “The room is clean,” I sighed. “I didn’t make the bed this morning but I unpacked everything and my clothes are all put away.”

  Jewel gave me a pointed look as she picked her fake Kate Spade purse up from the faded avocado-colored linoleum countertop in our temporary home. “The job wasn’t done. You should’ve made your bed.”

  I bit my lip to keep myself from telling her to eat shit as I gestured over my shoulder to the clock on the microwave. “It’s four o’clock in the morning and you’re giving me grief about a comforter. I’m awake and ready to go. That should be enough.”

  She snorted and mumbled something snarky sounding under her breath as she opened the door that led out to the parking area in front of the townhome. Grabbing my backpack, I followed along behind her once I’d closed and locked the door behind me. We sat in silence as she navigated the roads from our rental in Moab to the set that would be serving double duty both as her work and my school—or, as I really thought of it, my prison.

  It was pitch black outside which meant there wasn’t much for me to look at. I kept my head turned anyway, my forehead resting against the glass as if I were fascinated by something out there. I wasn’t, it just gave me an excuse not to speak. I only sat up straight and started paying attention when we turned into a dirt lot that had separated spaces with cones and signs because I knew we’d arrived and I wanted to learn the lay of the land.