Fighting the Fall

by J. B. Salsbury

  “I can’t; that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Her expression fluctuates between pained and steely. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Don’t believe me. Let me show you. I’ll prove it to you.”

  She coughs on a sob, and I pull her into my arms. My chest swells as she melts into my body, and her arms wrap around my waist. We stay like this for minutes, and I wish we could stay like this for hours, weeks, years. Just like this, her head on my chest, and my nose buried in her hair. We fit perfectly together like this, and once I share all my secrets with her, if she chooses me, we’ll be able to work through everything else.

  I just need that chance. One more chance.

  Thirty-Seven

  Eve

  What the hell did I do? One minute I’m lost in the music, thinking about Cameron and wishing it was his hands on my body rather than some random chick looking for attention. The next thing I know he’s there, pulling me into the back alley as if he’d read my thoughts and searched my fantasies.

  He’s bigger than he was two months ago, proof that the whispers about him training for his fight with Faulkner are true. His shoulders, back, arms, all of it strains against the thin cotton of his black tee. Biceps that pull the fabric tight accentuate the cuts and swells of his massive muscles.

  The epitome of power, strength, and protection, and yet he abandoned me. But I had sex with him anyway.

  This is so fucked up. Cameron may not be the dick that my dad is, or the monster that Vince was, but he has more power than the two of them combined to completely destroy me. I know because I’ve been living it for the last two months. I’ve felt what being abandoned by Cameron feels like, the fear and insecurity that rushes in after he sets me up with more than I could ever hope for and then in one breath takes it all away.

  How long will I put myself through this kind of pain before I finally decide it’s not worth it? Every time one of them walks away, it’s as if they stash a little piece of me in their pocket when they go. There’s hardly anything left of me as is, and I’m afraid that the feelings I have for him are too good, too intense. When he leaves again, he’ll strip me raw. There’ll be nothing left.

  He’s in love with me.

  But words are just that. Words. Anyone can say things and even pretend that they mean them. They don’t mean anything.

  What does mean something is the fact that he abandoned me with no explanation. He just walked away and never told me why. He knew I had questions, knew I was suffering, and still gave me nothing.

  I’m not an expert on love, but I’ve been living under a roof where it’s expressed daily, and what Cameron did to me isn’t love.

  I squeeze him to me one last time, knowing this is going to be the last I ever get of him, and soak in as much as I can. It’s time. Finally, for the first time in twenty-two years, it’s time for me to take care of myself and make choices that protect my heart rather than constantly sacrifice it.

  On that thought, I pull back enough to nuzzle against his pec and place a kiss over his heart.

  He runs his hand through my hair and cups the back of my head when I tilt back to look up at him. “We good? You coming home with me so I can explain?”

  I turn my head and kiss the inside of his wrist then press my hands against his abs for him to step back.

  He does, and confusion washes over his expression. Fuck. That kills.

  “Yes, we’re good.” I shake my head. “But no, I don’t need to hear you explain.”

  “Eve, I—”

  I cup his strong jaw and press my thumb to his lips. “It’s okay. I know you want to protect me, but I need you to know that I can take care of myself now. You think you love me, Cameron, but you’re mistaking caretaking for love. A few months ago I would’ve been happy with that. It would’ve been more than enough for me, but not anymore.”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t walk away from us.”

  “I have to.” I close the space between us and push up to my toes to wrap my arms around his neck.

  He doesn’t make me work for it and pulls me by the waist, lifting my feet off the ground in a hug so tight it almost makes me smile. Almost.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” he whispers in my ear then sets me back down on my feet. “Don’t do it.”

  I release his neck, but pull his face down to mine so our foreheads are touching. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and speak what’s been on my heart since the first day I met him.

  “I love you, Cameron Kyle, but I’m not strong enough to hold on to you.”

  His big body goes loose, and I take the opportunity to get away before he says something that makes me change my mind.

  I turn my back on him in the alley, and even though my heart, my body, every single thing in me is screaming for me to turn around, I do what’s best for me and walk away.

  And I’m not at all surprised that he doesn’t chase after me.

  ~*~

  Cameron

  I’m dragging my ass to work on the Monday after making love to Eve. It was spontaneous, primal, raw, but it was love. I felt it with every slide of our bodies, the connection of so much more than two animals seeking out pleasure, but two souls finally coming together.

  Rather than hitting the weights first, I head toward the heavy bag, hoping to blow off some of the frustration that’s been building since Eve blew me off. She’s wrong if she thinks I’m going to just let her turn her back on us. I’m going to get her back, but after this weekend I’ve realized how fragile she is and need to have a plan.

  I love you, Cameron Kyle.

  Her words ring through my head on a loop as they have been since she said them.

  I’m not strong enough to hold on to you.

  But I can be strong enough for the both of us.

  I pop in my ear buds and find the playlist that suits my mood. Social Distortion’s “When She Begins” blares in my ears so loud it feels as if my ears will bleed. Good, anything to push the memory of Eve to the back of my head.

  Gloves on, I throw my first few punches to warm up. Every hit, the resistance of the bag, pushes back and makes me hit harder. Left—right—left—right. I step back, kick. Lean in, punch. Back and forth, I beat away all the shit that plagues my mind in search for the clarity and simplicity that only comes when I train.

  Sweat dampens my shirt, drips down from my temple. I hit harder, concentrating on getting the most behind every throw. The music drives me. Finally warmed up, I move quicker. Duck. Hit. Lean. Hit. Kick.

  An earbud pops free from my ear. What the fuck? I stop and look to see Blake standing next to me with a satisfied grin.

  “Daniels, what’s up?” I rip off my gloves and pull out my other earbud.

  “Think the real question is what’s up with you?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Looks like you’re trying to strike gold on that heavy bag, man.” His eyebrows drop low.

  “This is what real training looks like.” I toss my gloves to the side. “Might wanna take notes.”

  He shrugs. “I’ll give you that because I know you’re pissed.”

  “Who says I’m pissed?”

  He tilts his head, as if he’s trying to read me. “My woman said you and Eve aren’t speaking.”

  Shit. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Layla’s noticed. Now that I think about it, I find it strange that she hasn’t asked. She’s usually nosey as hell.

  “Your woman would be right.” No use in lying. Chances are the whole story has made it through the gossip chain already.

  “Probably for the best.” He shoves the heavy bag. “Eve’s been through hell already, and you’re a moody son of a bitch.”

  Been through hell? First Jonah and now Blake.

  I wipe my forehead with a towel and take a swig from my water bottle. “You talking about her pops?”

  “Nah, I’m talking about Vince.”

  Vince? Who the fuck is that, and why is this the first I’m hearing about it? />
  “You mind elaborating?”

  His eyes narrow. “She hasn’t told you?”

  I grind my teeth and my muscles tense. “She told me, you think I’d be askin’?”

  “Huh.” His gaze drops to the floor, as if he’s thinking about whether or not to share, and then shrugs. “Figure you’ll find out sooner or later. Vince was Dominic Morretti’s right hand.”

  My fists flex at the idea that someone who even breathed the same air as a sadistic fuck like Morretti was anywhere near my girl.

  “Dominic needed to get the inside scoop on Raven; best way to do that was through her best friend.” His jaw gets tight. “He sent Vince to do the job.”

  What the fuck does that mean? He needed information out of Eve so he what? Held her captive? Tortured her? My thoughts whirl into a tornado of horrific scenarios. “Go on.”

  He recoils, but it’s slight. “Guessin’ you lookin’ like you’re gonna kill someone shows Eve didn’t share this shit with you.”

  I don’t answer.

  “Right, well, best guess is he saw her weakness, preyed on it.”

  “Meaning?” I hope it’s not what I’m thinking.

  “He seduced her.”

  The breath rushes from my lungs in a quick burst.

  “Told her all the fluffy shit chicks like to hear, weaseled his way in there, and when I say in there, I mean in there in every way a man can be. Her home, her bed, her body.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s not the worst of it.”

  My chest aches and my body readies for a fight.

  “Dickhead roughed a dude up pretty bad at a club one night for talking to Eve, dragged her and Raven’s asses out, let Eve go so he could kidnap Rave. Luckily Jonah showed up, but not before Vince marked Raven’s neck up with bruises.”

  “Fuckin’ hell.”

  “Worst part is Eve was jealous of that shit. Vince was lying to her the whole time, using her body, taking all she offered, but his eye was on the prize and that prize was not Eve.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  He chuckles. “Know what you’re thinkin’, but you can rest easy he’s getting his. He’s servin’ a life sentence in prison.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Yeah, I agree. But he’s also living in prison without a dick thanks to Jonah’s flawless aim with a Desert Eagle.”

  “No shit?” I cringe and adjust my junk at the thought. “He shot his dick off?”

  “Pretty much. Dude kidnapped his woman, tried to rape her. Jonah made sure he paid.”

  How the fuck did I not know all this? I’d read the story the media put out, but I never knew Eve was this involved. And why the fuck wouldn’t she share this shit with me?

  Maybe because I never asked.

  Fuck!

  “Advice?”

  No thanks, asshole. I bite my tongue.

  His expression gets uncharacteristically serious. “If you’re not a million percent sure about Eve, then you should leave her alone. She’s been fucked with enough to last a damn lifetime, and she’s got a whole lifetime in front of her. If anyone deserves easy, Cam, it’s her. If you can’t give that to her let someone who can have that shot.”

  “Sounds like you’re not speaking figuratively.”

  He scratches his cheek and shrugs. “Baywatch is crazy about her.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  “She feel the same?”

  “Eve needs to relearn some shit. She’s been taught how she deserves to be treated by a man. Unfortunately, she was taught by the wrong man. Mase is trying to show her different. She’s not there yet.”

  Whatever the motherfuck that means. If Mase knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his hands, mouth, and dick away from my girl.

  “We done?” I’m barely able to keep the rage from my voice.

  He nods and turns to go, but stops short to crank his neck around. “Sooner or later a man has to decide. You wanna be the man she wants, or can you find it in you to be the man she needs? Figure that shit out, or bow out, and let a better man move in.”

  “Yeah, you can fuck right off.”

  He grins. “Glad we understand each other.”

  I turn and swing hard into the heavy bag then wince at the sting in my knuckles and glare at a retreating, but laughing, Blake.

  No fucking way I’m stepping aside so Mason can have his shot at the woman I love. I’ll get her back. I just need to figure out how.

  Thirty-Eight

  Eve

  This is the hardest part, the final crawl to the top. Sweat drips from my hairline, and desert dust coats my skin. I hook my toes in and use my hands to grip rock and pull myself up. My muscles shake with exertion. One more pull and a healthy heft and I’m up and over. I pant for breath, relief.

  I’m at the top. I glare at my handsome hiking partner, who’s squatting down looking every bit the Ralph Lauren model and nothing like the sweaty mess I appear to be.

  “Thanks for waiting, dickhead.” I smile sweetly and ruffle his thick blond hair. Jeez, it’s not even sweaty! What the hell.

  Mason laughs. “Took you long enough. I was seconds away from building a shelter and hunkering down for the night.”

  “So funny I forgot to laugh.” I drop down next to him, my spandex-covered ass directly against the rocks and dirt because I don’t have the strength to hold myself up as he does.

  I take a deep breath and can practically smell autumn moving in. I turn my head slowly from one side to the other, taking in the panoramic view of the city. Funny how brown Vegas is from this perspective. In the light of day, looking down on the city, you’d never guess there’s anything special down there. If anything, it couldn’t look more ordinary. But I know better. I know that once the sun dips behind these mountains the entire city turns into a carnival of lights and action that is unequal to anything else in the world.

  “So pretty up here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  I look over to see Mase isn’t looking at the view, but rather directly at me. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut.

  “Mase, that’s sweet, really, but you know I don’t—”

  “Feel that way about me.” He turns his eyes to the view and flicks a rock over the edge. “Yeah.”

  I rock into him with my shoulder. “Hey, you know I care about you, right? As a friend.”

  “Friend zone.” He groans and drops his chin to his chest. “Awesome.”

  “You have no idea how badly I wish I could make myself love you that way, Mase. Honest to God, it would make my life so much easier.”

  “Yeah, I know that too.” He throws a rock over the ledge. “Why is that? I mean why do girls like guys who treat them like shit?”

  I shrug and wrap my arms around my bent knees. “It’s not like we intentionally go for assholes. It’s just that sometimes we can’t ignore the pull of our hearts.”

  “I’m familiar with that feeling,” he mumbles.

  A twinge of guilt twists in my chest. “But Cameron isn’t an asshole. That night at The House of Blues—”

  “The night you had sex with him in the alley?” His jaw ticks, and I can feel the intensity of his stare from behind his sunglasses.

  “Yes, that night. He told me he loved me.”

  “He doesn’t. No man who really loves a woman would tell her while fucking her in an alley.”

  “Mase—”

  “I’m sorry, Eve, but you’ve got to drop these delusional thoughts about Cameron suddenly turning into a nice guy. He’s a player, and for whatever reason, that shit seems to turn you on.”

  I don’t want to argue with Mason. I can’t because technically he’s right. Cameron did tell me he loved me right after he had sex with me against a dirty wall in an alley. Ugh, that really does sound awful. Why did it feel so real? Like the power of those words could cure diseases, mend broken hearts, and heal old wounds? Pointless to think about it now.

  “Anyway, I walked away from him tha
t night.”

  “I remember. You didn’t tell me until after the show, but I could tell when you found me in the crowd that you seemed . . . different.”

  I nod and draw swirls into the dirt with a stick. “I was different. It was the first time in my life that I turned my back on something I wanted.”

  “And that felt good?”

  “It did. I mean I’ve never had control of much in my life, but telling Cameron goodbye was like swallowing medicine. Yeah, it tastes bad, might even give me a bellyache, but I know doing it is eventually going to make me feel better. Make me healthy.”

  “I could do that for you.” His voice is soft and so sincere.

  “Thank you, Mase. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”

  He smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. He throws his arm over my shoulders and pulls me to his side. “Yeah, you little shit. I’ll always be here for you.”

  We sit like that for a while, looking at the view and enjoying the simple act of being. Living in the moment.

  My thoughts wander, as they often do after Mason and I have conversations like this. Could Mason be like the city view? Uninspiring from one perspective, but if I got a better look, maybe took the time to see him at a different angle, could he be unequal to anyone else in the world?

  Or will I always be the girl, as Mason says, who’s hopelessly devoted to assholes?

  ##

  The drive back to Jonah’s from our hike is a silent one. Mason’s given up for now, and I appreciate him giving my defenses a break. He hits the satellite radio and “Chasing Rainbows” by No Use for a Name fills the car.

  I’ve always loved the song, but something tells me he purposely put it on just for me. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, but he keeps his gaze forward.

  Whatever. So he hasn’t given up; he’s just changed tactics. Fantastic.

  Having slipped my dusty hiking shoes off before we got in the car, I prop my socked feet up on the dash and listen to the music, choosing to not concentrate on the words, but the instruments alone.