Fighting the Fall

by J. B. Salsbury

  This is crazy. I need to come clean and tell Eve everything about my past, but there’s no way I’m doing it over the phone. I need to be there to lock her in my arms if she tries to run away after she finds out I’m responsible for robbing my daughter of a future.

  ~*~

  Eve

  Everything’s blurry and my throat burns. No matter how hard I try to stop the tears from falling, they ignore me. I can’t breathe.

  Fuck, what was that? I left to grab a cab only to see Cameron and D’lilah hugging so tightly they looked like lovers. She seemed upset, but he was comforting her in such a physical way a stab of jealousy shot right through me.

  They’re sharing something. Most likely mourning the death of their marriage. Being together as a family with me there must’ve hammered the point home that they’re over. I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t telling me the whole story where she’s concerned. Tonight, surrounded by their family, it was obvious they’re all aware of something I didn’t have the privilege of being a part of. But what?

  Do they still love each other?

  He says no, but that’s the only explanation I have for the tender way I watched him rub her back and tilt his nose into her hair, just as he’d do to me. Oh God, how could I’ve been so damn stupid? He’s not over her. And the worst part of it all is that I can’t blame him. They share a past and a love that brought about a child. They’re the same fucking age!

  As soon as D’lilah leaves the same way I showed up—in Cameron’s car with him—I push through a crowd of whispering onlookers. I hum loudly to avoid hearing what they’re saying word for word. I don’t want to know what they’re assuming because it’s probably the worst and most likely the truth. A row of cabs is my escape and I hop into the first one I reach.

  I can’t do this: wonder how long it’ll take before he leaves me, waiting for the day I push him too hard and send him into the arms of someone else. So many things can go wrong, and if history proves correct, they will. Eventually.

  “Where to?”

  My gaze drifts out the window, and without thinking, the words slip from my mouth, “Stone Hearth Country Club. I’ll direct you from there.”

  A nervous flutter in my belly is quickly soothed by the need for answers. Why does he insist on treating me as if I’m the only woman in the world and then turn around and treat me as though I’m only one of many?

  No. I told myself I’d never be this desperate again. I’d rather be single than play second. It’s time he hears that from my lips.

  Twenty-Eight

  Cameron

  D’lilah cried the entire way home, and as badly as I wanted to veer off the freeway to her place and drop her there, I couldn’t stomach leaving her alone in that house like this. She may not be my wife anymore, but she’s Ryder’s mom, and I owe it to him to take care of her. Especially when she’s this messed up.

  She drops like dead weight onto the couch, hiccupping still from her sadness. I unbutton my tear-soaked, makeup-streaked shirt and slide it off.

  “The guest room is made up. I’ll grab you something to sleep in.” I move to the hallway to grab her a tee and some boxers.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers.

  “You just need a good night’s sleep.” I take another step toward my room.

  “What happened to us?”

  What the fuck? I turn on my heel and study the crumpled-up woman on the couch, who is a mere shadow of the woman I married. “I don’t think you need a recap of our lives, ’Li.”

  “No, I know. It’s just . . . You’ve dated women in the past, but you’re different with this Eve girl.”

  I blink and step closer, curious. “Different how?”

  “She’s making our son breakfast.” She wipes beneath her eyes. “Showing up at his birthday dinner. She’s special to you.”

  “What’s your point?” This is bullshit. I don’t owe D’lilah a breakdown of my feelings, and I’m not at all comfortable with the lust swirling in her drunken gaze. Sooner she passes out, the better.

  She pushes up from the couch and moves to me, stumbling at the seductive swing she’s attempting to throw into her hips. “We had some fun, didn’t we? Back before things got so complicated?” She stops inches from me; her drunken gaze eats up my bare chest.

  “’Li—”

  “Remember our honeymoon?” She tilts her head. “We couldn’t get enough of each other back then.”

  She was breathtakingly gorgeous, but I never connected with her beyond the physical. Back then I thought the strongest kind of attraction was sexual. Animalistic need. Since Eve came along, I realize how much better sexual attraction is when I’m also attracted to the many facets of her personality.

  “We got pregnant on that trip.” She presses her palm against my chest. “Remember—”

  I grip her wrist. “That was a long time ago.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, Cam.” She bites her lip seductively. “It can be just yesterday. For one night, we can pretend that I’m still the woman you fell in love—”

  “No, ’Li.” I pull her hand from my chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “No? But I’m offering you a chance to be that guy again. You were so powerful, so smart.” She pulls my hand up to place it against her chest.

  I step back. “And now I’m not. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Her eyes narrow. “I know you miss the old you. The old us.”

  “I don’t, not even a little.”

  She flinches.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” I move toward the hallway. “It’s been a long day and an even longer night. Grab something to sleep in from Ryder’s room. We’ll get your car in the morning.”

  I’m halfway to my room when she grabs my elbow from behind. “Cam, wait.”

  I tug my arm from her hold. “Walk away, ’Li. I know what’s going on, and it’s not going to work. I’m with Eve.”

  Her attempt at a sexy quickly morphs into confrontational. “She’s a child. It’s disgusting.”

  “Watch it. I’m not above getting you a cab back to your place if you insist on insulting her.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re nothing like the man I married.”

  “Why, because I won’t fuck you? Because I refuse to be a part of this game you’re playin’? You want to feel better about yourself? Sober up. Get a job. Make a difference in your kids’ life. For once, make a healthy decision.”

  “Says the guy who lost everything.” She grits the words through clenched teeth.

  “Sleep it off, but make sure you’re gone in the morning.” I turn my back on her and slam my bedroom door behind me.

  Fuck, this woman is a damn mess. I’ve tried too hard to fix her, to make up for all I’d taken from her, but no amount is ever enough. I can’t replace all that she lost, no matter how hard I try.

  ~*~

  Eve

  “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” I put the cab on hold while I head up to Cameron’s house, not sure if I’ll be staying and worried finding another cab in this ritzy neighborhood will be impossible.

  I’ve had little time to concoct my speech beyond the forward “What the fuck?” Flutters explode in my belly as I make my way up the drive. The smell of fresh cut grass from the golf course and warm desert air does nothing to soothe my nerves. There are no exterior lights on. I wonder if he’s even home? What if he’s at D’lilah’s house? Visions of what they could be doing together flicker through my mind a second before I squash them. No, I’m not going there.

  Once to the door, I see through the front window into the living room. I lean over and peer inside, nearly falling backwards at the image that slams me in the chest.

  Cameron’s shirtless and standing just a few feet away from where D’lilah’s seated on the couch. They’re talking, or she’s talking and he’s listening. My eyes lock on her blouse that is gaping off one shoulder. She gets up and sashays to him. Her hand rests against his chest and hi
s on her hips. I swallow the thick ball of emotion that clogs my throat. I spin around, my back pressed against the door, breath coming in harder and being chased from my chest by the power of my racing heart.

  How did I not see this coming? I was always a toy to him. His Doll. A plaything to keep him occupied until he and D’lilah could reconcile. No one would ever choose me over a supermodel. My own mother chose her life over her daughters. My father chose addiction. And Vince, well he was never in it for me. I wasn’t good enough then, and nothing has changed.

  Cameron’s voice filters from behind the door. Is he headed this way? I sneak one last peek, panicked that he’ll walk out the door, but gasp at what I see. Cameron strides into the hallway toward his bedroom with D’lilah on his heels.

  I struggle to catch my breath and race back to the waiting cab. “Go, please!”

  The driver jumps, but luckily my outburst has the cab rolling forward. “Where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Fuck! It happened again. I can’t believe I put myself in this position again. I actually thought Cameron was different. I groan and lean my forehead against the grimy window of the cab. Isn’t that what I think of every man who’s ever destroyed me?

  I’m sick; my stomach threatens to unload. I hate him. I hate all of them, every fucking one.

  Or do I hate myself?

  I mumble my address, and it seems as if lifetimes pass before I’m finally in my bedroom, stripping off my dress and pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and a tank top. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and pull my hair back. I move through it all by rote until I fall in defeat to my bed.

  The familiar burn of tears wells in my eyes, but I will not cry again over a man. I’d worked so hard to build up my barrier, and Cameron broke it down that first night we met in less than an hour. That shit won’t happen again.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  Twenty-Nine

  Eve

  At first I thought I was dreaming. The repetitive knock could’ve been the water pipes from my elderly neighbor’s bath time, but it’s the middle of the night. I lie still and focus to hear what it is that woke me up.

  Knock, knock.

  There it is again. It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up to realize someone is knocking on my front door. My pulse speeds so much I can hear it thumping in my ears.

  Cameron?

  It has to be. Whoever is knocking is doing it softly enough to not wake up the neighborhood, but firm enough to get my attention. It has to be him.

  I rip the covers off and stumble to the door as if my body is acting on its own accord. If he’s here to see me in the middle of the night, maybe I misinterpreted everything I saw in his living room. He wouldn’t come over in the middle of the night to break up with me, not with D’lilah still warming his bed.

  I pull open the door. “Cameron, what’re you—”

  “Nope. Not Cameron.” There’s man I’ve never seen before leaning against the doorframe.

  I hurry to slam it closed, but don’t make it in time before he blocks it with his foot.

  “Now that’s no way to treat a guest. I suppose you learned your manners from your father.” The last word comes out on a snarl. His seedy gaze traces the curves of my body.

  “If you’re looking for my dad”—the shake in my voice is unmistakable—“he’s not here.”

  “I know he’s not here. Just got finished having a very unpleasant conversation with him where he gave up this address.” His lips curl back over yellowing teeth. From the looks of him, I’d say this guy has seen his fair share of the inside of every casino in Vegas. Stale cigarette smoke wafts off his body in nauseating waves, coming not from his clothes but emanating from his skin. Hell, even the dirty brown and gray color of his hair matches that of smoke.

  “Oh, you’re friends with my dad?” I need to think, devise a plan. My thoughts jumble, and I struggle to think through my fear.

  “Not anymore.” His foot is still in the door. “Now he owes me money and told me you hold on to it for him.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that the man is a compulsive liar. I don’t have any of his money.” Shit, the way this guy is looking at me makes me think money isn’t the only form of payment he’d take. I swallow back the surging stomach acid.

  “Your pops owes me five grand, and he told me I could come here and collect.” The man tilts his head and studies me. “’Fraid his problem is now your problem.”

  Shit.

  That greasy no good piece of shit.

  “Five thousand dollars, huh?” I don’t even know what I’m saying as long as it buys time. His foot is still in the door, so I can’t really slam it and grab my phone. “I don’t have that kind of money on me.” Oh God, what am I going to do? I have nowhere to run but inside, and he’ll only chase me down. I think back to Cameron’s self-defense lesson. In order to fight someone bigger, stronger, you reel them in rather than run away. Bringing him inside my house seems insane, but it’s my only chance. “You know what? I can make a healthy payment tonight, and then I’ll put a call in to my dad tomorrow to get things squared away.”

  He seems to think over my suggestion before nodding. “That’ll work. Besides, if I don’t get paid the remainder . . . I know where you live.”

  My hands shake as I force them to do what seems too risky to chance and open the door. “I have a safe in the kitchen.”

  Shit.

  I’m dizzy as all the blood rushes from my head to my stomach. If I can get to the kitchen and to my keys, I might have a running chance to get to my car.

  He pushes the door open, and I step deeper into my house with him, closing the door behind him. My arms and legs are wobbly, my pulse raging in my ears.

  “I keep the safe up there.” I point to the cupboards above the refrigerator and grab my car keys. “There’s a stepstool in the utility closet.” I pretend to fumble through my keys, searching for the right one for a safe that doesn’t exist.

  He’s shoulders deep in the closet, fishing out a stepstool. Here’s my chance. In a spring action, I run.

  Fear powers my muscles. I fling open the front door.

  “You fucking bitch,” he says from still inside.

  Dammit! His car is parked behind mine. I split in the opposite direction, through the neighbor’s yard. My legs burn; bare feet ache as I race to find somewhere to hide. All the desert trees are nothing but sticks. He’s gonna find me, fuck! I bolt across the street, pushing my legs as hard as I can.

  Strong arms wrap me from behind. “No!”

  “Gotchu’, bitch.”

  I buck and kick, but he doesn’t let up. Panic seizes me. I jerk hard. Pain lances through my shoulder. “Fuck!”

  I slump in his arms as heat and burn blaze up my neck. Did he stab me?

  I’ve been held like this before when Cameron was teaching me self-defense. If I can break free of his hold, I can surely get away from this weaselly fuck.

  I lean my weight back. Take two steps to the side, throw my knee behind his and sweep his legs out from under him.

  He drops his hold and falls.

  I take off toward a big apartment building. There has to be somewhere to hide at least long enough for this guy to give up. Maybe he’ll go back to my place and toss it looking for money. That’s my only hope. I scurry under a low staircase that’s tucked in a dark corner.

  With no phone, just my car keys, I crouch down in the tiny space. My lungs burn with the effort it takes to slow my breathing. My legs shake with fear and the strain of trying to hold still. I don’t move and pray like hell he doesn’t find me. My dad sent a fucking loan shark to my house, and the worst thing about that is I should’ve expected it. Dammit, why the hell did I open the door?

  Because I thought it was Cameron.

  The air drains from my lungs in one long defeated breath. Cameron never even called, and I would’ve known because I kept the damn phone with me in bed. And he didn’t stop by.
I mentally beat myself up for being so naïve.

  Minutes pile on top of each other until my legs go numb. I have no concept of time, but a deep purple hue bathes the sliver of courtyard I can see from my hiding spot.

  There’s no way I’m going to risk going home. He could be hiding anywhere waiting for me. Even an attempt to get to Raven’s is a risk. Going anywhere near my house, even if it’s only to get my car, is a piss-poor idea. So what then? Knock on doors?

  Hiya, I’m your neighbor, and I’m being chased by a psycho loan shark. May I come in?

  I’ve driven by this apartment complex a million times, and I think there’s a pay phone behind the back parking lot. If I call the cops, they’ll want me to file a report and my dad could go down, or worse, if these guys want retaliation, he or I could end up in a dirt grave. Jonah and Raven are my only chance.

  I wait a few more minutes and close my eyes to tune my hearing. It’s silent and I’m alone as far as I can tell.

  With a deep calming breath, I slide out from under the stairs. Crouched low, I wait another few seconds. Still quiet. Starting slow at first, I creep out into the courtyard, making sure to stay to the sidewall and the camouflage of the shadows.

  Once I make it through to the rear lot behind the building, I glue my back to the wall before turning the corner. I hope the pay phone I think I remember is real.

  Please be there; please be there.

  A dog barks. Panic fuels my legs as I beat feet to the phone. Yes! I rip the phone from its cradle and press it to my ear. Think, Eve, think! With a shaky finger, I dial the one, eight-hundred, and now I have to spell collect.

  My finger slips. Shit! I hit the lever, look over my shoulder, and try again. Concentrating as if my life depends on it, I dial the damn number and follow the prompts.

  “Please hold while we attempt to contact . . .”

  I spin around to keep a visual on my surroundings, and wait. My breath quickens, and even though there’s not a soul walking the streets, I’m terrified he’ll jump out at any minute.