All Falls Down

by Morgen, Ayden K.

  One dark brow arches when I continue to stand there, gaping at him.

  "I'm… sorry," I manage to choke out, mortified to be caught staring so openly. I start to spin away when he reaches out and grasps my arm. His fingers are long, his nails perfectly manicured.

  "Savannah Martin?" His voice is warm honey – rich, smooth, low.

  My stomach flips again.

  "Ah, yes?" I squeak, amazed that this beautiful man knows my name.

  "You're Savannah Martin?"

  "Yes?" I'm not sure why I'm asking instead of telling, but I can't seem to stop. He's completely thrown me, and he's still staring at me with those eyes…. I clear my throat and try again. "Yes, that's me." The words sound throaty, breathless, but at least they're not a squeak this time.

  His questioning expression morphs into… I'm not sure, honestly. But it's beautiful. And intimidating.

  My stomach flutters.

  "I'm Jared Corbit."

  "O–kay?" I wrack my brain, trying to place the name. I've never heard it before that I can remember. It's a nice name though. It fits him.

  "Katrina Talbot sent me?" he says, aggravation sweeping through his expression.

  "Oh!" I blink up at him. "Okay. I didn't realize–"

  He brushes me off, irritated. "Do you have any additional luggage?"

  "One?"

  Again he arches a brow and I silently curse myself for sounding so uncertain.

  God, what is wrong with me?

  Oh right. He's stunning and very much here and I'm… me.

  "I have one bag," I say, my heart slamming uncomfortably against my ribcage. "Carousel Four."

  He nods coolly and turns on his heel. I follow behind, enthralled both by the way he walks and the fact that people move out of his way without even looking up. They just seem to instinctively know he's there and don't want to get in his way. And his rear–

  I choke and jerk my eyes upward when he glances back at me. Something close to amusement flickers through his expression, his lips turning up at the corners. The flash of emotion is gone before I can even be sure it is amusement though.

  "Which is yours?" he asks, gesturing toward the carousel.

  "Oh, um…" I whip my head in that direction just in time to see my bag disappearing around the back of the conveyor belt. I wait until it appears again to point it out to him. "That one."

  He steps forward to claim it. "Ready?" he asks.

  "Yes." I want to thank him for tackling the bag for me, but he's already walking away.

  I follow him out of the airport, completely silent.

  "You're the chauffer?" I gape between Jared and the sleek grey sports car parked in front of me. It's tiny, two doors, and looks fast. I know nothing about cars, but this one screams luxury.

  "No," he answers, popping the trunk open and depositing my bag. It fits. Barely. "Your carry-on?" He motions for it, the move full of impatience.

  I clench the strap tightly in my hands for just a moment, wanting to protest though I'm not sure why. There's nothing in it that I can't live without on the drive to the Talbot estate, but the bag is something at least. It's mine.

  I relinquish it reluctantly into his impatient hands.

  His fingers brush mine when he takes it from me.

  I jump as if he's shocked me. I think maybe he has.

  He jerks as if he felt it too and shoves the carry-on into the trunk before slamming it closed. He's around to the passenger side of the car before I manage to snap my mouth closed again.

  "Coming, Miss Martin?"

  I think he's teasing me. I think.

  I flush bright red again, trying to hide the way my lips twitch, and climb carefully into the car. Recently stitched together skin pulls tight, pulling a quiet groan from my lips. I sway, nearly collapsing into my seat. I secure the seatbelt over my lap while he closes the door for me without another word.

  I want to sink through the floorboards and disappear. I'm completely out of my element here, and I know it's only going to get worse. I'm not like the Talbots. They're rich and gorgeous. I'm simply included in this sad affair by necessity. My mother worked for Matthew for years before she ran off. He and his deceased wife, Caitlyn, took me in, allowing me to live in their guesthouse until I finished high school….

  I think Kit asked me to come simply because she needs something else to focus on.

  So do I. Desperately.

  Jared slides into the car.

  The engine purrs to life. And I do mean it purrs to life. It sounds sexy as hell.

  I may whimper a little.

  Green eyes dart in my direction, but he says nothing, instead snapping his seatbelt into place.

  Jared turns away, his jaw clenched, watching for a break in the flow of traffic.

  We ride in silence for a long time. I stare out the window at the grey clouds rolling in over the city, at the Bay Bridge, at the hills and curves that make up San Francisco, trying hard not to think. It's a futile attempt, of course. My brain rushes in a thousand different directions and none of them are very pleasant.

  Italy, shattered glass, tears, blood….

  "How's Kit?" I yelp, frantic to cut off that line of thought before it consumes me.

  "Ah, she's managing," Jared mutters, seeming surprised that I've spoken.

  The urge to apologize again strikes.

  "You work for the Talbot family?" I ask instead, silently saying I'm sorry for inconveniencing him with my questions. I just really don't want to think right now. Or ever. Thinking hurts.

  "No." He blinks over at me. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

  "No," I murmur. Isn't that obvious to him by now? "Kit never mentioned you."

  "Ah. Aren't you and Katrina close?" he asks instead of explaining why I should know who he is.

  "We were. Once." Regret twists through me, pulling a sigh from my lips. "I haven't been around much."

  That's an understatement. I haven't been around at all. I packed my bags and fled.

  Fleeing. I'm good at that.

  "Ah," he says again. "Traveling?"

  "Something like that." I don't mean to be curt, but this line of conversation is a no-go. Too many memories. I can't deal with those right now. "Should I know who you are?"

  "Lexi's boyfriend," he answers, cocking that dark brow at me again. He's… frustrated? Angry? I don't know, but he isn't happy. "Isn't it obvious?"

  "Oh." My skin flushes again, heating from his question. I should have guessed. Someone as beautiful as he is, well, it's only natural he'd be with someone like Lexi. She's physical perfection. A California Barbie.

  I suddenly feel duller than usual. Completely nondescript and boring.

  Staring down at the hem of my simple black top, tears prick at me again. It's such a foolish reaction. I don't even know this man, but I suddenly want to cry because he's beautiful and I'm not even remotely close. Lackluster brown hair, washed out skin, and dull brown eyes.

  Frigid. The word whispers through my mind and it hurts.

  "I shouldn't have come," I whisper to myself.

  Jared hears me and frowns. "Katrina wanted you here."

  "I–"

  "She could use a friend right now, Savannah."

  His chastisement hurts.

  "I'm sorry," I whisper.

  Jared glances away, his jaw tight.

  He doesn't look at me again for the rest of the trip.

  "Savannah!" Kit flings herself at me the moment I step from the car. "Oh God, you're here!"

  Before I can get my arms around her or even register the pain of her arms pushing against my scars, she's sobbing on my shoulder. I pat her awkwardly and glance over her head to find Jared watching us, his expression indecipherable as he wrestles my bags out of the trunk.

  Stewart Paulson, the Talbot's security guard, stands at the end of the driveway, facing the massive wrought iron gates, probably in an effort to avoid the scene Kit and I are making. I haven't seen him in years, but he barely even managed to wave
at me. I don't think he likes me much.

  Which means I'm completely on my own for the moment. And I don't have a clue how to handle Katrina. Comforting crying people isn't something I've done a lot of lately. Especially not crying people I haven't seen in two years.

  I'm already in over my head.

  "Take her inside," Jared snaps while I stand there, patting Kit on the back and trying to figure out what to do.

  I jerk at his cold tone and nod, once again feeling inadequate. I'm beginning to think I'm going to feel that way a lot around this man. He's just so… so. He unnerves me. Greatly.

  I doubt that's his fault.

  "Come on, Kit," I murmur, wrapping my arm around her waist and guiding her toward the house. Mansion. The place is huge, a sprawling white plantation house transported from another time and plunked down in the midst of extravagant beauty on the edge of San Francisco.

  Memories slip to the surface, unbidden.

  "You don't belong here, Savannah," Toby whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist as I stand in the driveway, holding my bags. "You belong with me. I'll take care of you."

  "Toby…."

  I don't want to go.

  I want to go.

  I'm so confused.

  "You're an inconvenience here, Sav. Your mom left you, and they," he lifts one big arm and points at the mansion before us, "feel sorry for you. You know this is true. You aren't like them. You don't fit here. If you stay, you'll ruin their lives."

  "Kit's my friend," I whisper, a lump forming in my throat.

  "Is she?" he asks. "Is she really?"

  "I…"

  "You belong with me, Savannah. Come to Italy. You can go to school there. It'll be good for you."

  I nod as tears begin to slip down my cheeks.

  "Savannah! Savannah, wait!" Kit yells as Toby helps me onto his motorcycle after my bags are lashed into place.

  I glance back to find her running down the steps toward us. "Toby, let me–"

  "No," he snaps and kicks the motorcycle to life. "You don't belong here."

  My stomach churns at the memory.

  I guide Kit up the stairs and through the front door. Making a right in the foyer, I pull her into the family room. It's vacant, thank God. I manage to get her seated on the sofa and sink down with her.

  She's still sobbing on my shoulder and I don't know how to comfort her. I don't think I can comfort her. I can't even take care of myself, and I was just a baby when my own father died. I barely remember him, and my mother left me. But Kit's lost both of her parents in the last five years – Caitlyn to an aneurysm five years ago, and now Matthew in a car accident.

  I can't imagine how hard this is for her.

  There's nothing I can do to make her feel any better.

  Maybe I shouldn't have come.

  "Shh, Kit," I say, trying hard to ignore that voice of doubt. "Please don't cry."

  "I m–miss him, Sav." She cries harder.

  Wincing, I begin to run my fingers through her silky blonde hair. We sit for a while – her sobbing, me stroking – while I try to take in the room around me. I haven't been here in two years, yet nothing at all has changed. The same framed pictures still line the walls. The same piano still sits in the corner. The same furniture. The same everything. Except for me. I fit here less now than I did then. I fit nowhere.

  I've never felt that as acutely as I do in this moment.

  Jared's dark blond head pokes through the doorway. He's frowning, and though I can't be sure it's directed at me, I get the distinct impression that it is. He doesn't trust me, doesn't like me. I've done nothing to warrant such a reaction from him, but that's never stopped people in this world from hating me on sight.

  Biting back the urge to apologize to him for being here, I turn pointedly away from him instead, focusing on Kit again. She needs me. Jared Corbit and his frowns can just deal with my presence for now.

  I wish I was brave enough to tell him that.

  "I'll take your stuff to the guesthouse," he mutters.

  I don't acknowledge that I've heard him. A moment later, the front door closes.

  I sigh in relief and scratch at Kit's scalp.

  I keep scratching until her sobs slow and then halt altogether.

  "I'm sorry," she hiccups, lifting her face to me. It's stained by tears, her blue eyes red-rimmed and full of pain and heartache.

  Sympathy wells in my chest again. I reach out and squeeze her hand. "You have nothing to apologize for. I just wish I could make this easier for you." I really do mean that. No one deserves this less than the Talbot sisters.

  "Thank you." She hiccups again and pulls her legs up onto the couch, wiping at her face. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm fine." It takes me by surprise that she's asking about me now, when she's the one who just lost her only remaining parent. She's always been such a genuinely good person. My heart breaks that she has to go through this all over again.

  "Are you?" She examines my face for a minute.

  It's been two years since I last saw her, but it suddenly seems as if no time at all has passed. She sees through me just like she always has and I can't lie to her. It's not like she doesn't know anyway. I told her about… everything. I didn't mean to, but the words just kind of slipped out.

  They have a tendency to do that around her. I'm sure the morphine didn't help either.

  Her question though? Am I okay?

  No, I want to tell her. I'm so far from okay right now I don't even remember what okay feels like anymore. I'm not really sure I ever knew.

  "I will be," I whisper instead.

  She wraps her arm around me and rests the side of her head against mine.

  We sit there for a long time, not speaking.

  "I'm glad you're here," she finally says.

  Here. Home. Or the closest thing I have to one.

  "Me too," I say and I think I actually mean that.

  I think.

  Chapter Two: Scars

  The black dress hanging in the closet is chic, elegant, and so not me. I stare at it as if it might bite me. I'm not sure it won't. Reaching for the hanger, I sigh, resigned to wearing it in the morning anyway. It's not like I have any other suitable options.

  "Lexi thinks Daddy was murdered," Kit announces.

  We're in the guesthouse, in my old room. Everything is exactly the same and yet it all seems different. Even out here, away from the overwhelming luxury of the mansion, I feel like an even bigger imposter than I did two years ago. I think I may blame him for that more than anything else.

  "What?" I stop, hanger in hand, when her words sink in.

  She's standing in front of the dresser, stroking her pinky across the ceramic Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland that she gave me for my seventeenth birthday. It's my favorite movie.

  Kit turns to me, her eyes swimming in pain again. "The brakes on his car were–" Her bottom lip quivers. "Lexi thinks they were tampered with."

  "Oh, Kit." I drop the dress to the bed and close the distance between us. "I'm so sorry."

  My mind spins while I hug her. Who would want to kill Matthew? He was always so nice, so friendly. He and Caitlyn took me in without question and were so kind to me. He treated me as if I was one of his daughters.

  I can't wrap my mind around the possibility that someone intentionally harmed him.

  I don't even know how to begin.

  Kit clings to me, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. I want to tell her that it's okay to cry, but I know how ineffectual tears are. They don't solve anything. They just burn. God knows, I've learned that lesson well in the last few weeks.

  And yet, I still cry every time I'm alone.

  I imagine Kit does, too.

  At least she has a right to cry though. My… problems… are of my own making.

  Frigid.

  I've never hated a word before, but I think I may hate that one.

  "I think… I think Lexi might be in danger, Savannah," Kit whispers, her voice cracking o
n my name.

  I think carefully, not sure how to approach this. Not even sure what's really going on, or if Kit's imagining things, her grief forcing her to search for connections that just aren't there.

  "What makes you think that?" I finally ask, urging her toward the bed.

  She sits and draws her legs up, wrapping her arms around them.

  "I heard her and Jared talking to Daddy a few weeks ago. She'd been in an accident. She told him that the guy who hit her was hired to do so. She sounded so scared." Kit's eyes take on a faraway glint. She rests her cheek against her knees. "She started crying and told Jared that she–" Kit stops speaking and shakes her head. "She's been so secretive. She won't tell me what's going on. She won't go anywhere by herself and doesn't want us going anywhere alone. Before he died, Daddy hired Jared's brother to help Stewart with security, but I don't think it's helped her any. Jared tries to calm her down, but I don't think that's working, either." Kit curls in on herself. "I'm scared."

  Matthew was murdered?

  I'm suddenly confused and scared, too.

  Crawling onto the bed with Katrina, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, offering what meager comfort I can. She leans into my side. I've never seen her so fragile, so small before. She's always been so vivacious and friendly. It's frightening to see how much this has hurt her.

  "Do the police have any suspects?" I ask.

  "I don't know," she whispers, her breath stirring pieces of my hair. "I tried to talk to Lexi about it yesterday, but she just told me that everything's fine. That I should focus on getting through the funeral tomorrow and not worry. That Jared will take care of us." Kit exhales, her body shuddering.

  I want to ask how he's supposed to take care of them… who he is. A hundred different questions run through my mind. I settle on the easiest, not sure how much Kit can handle right now. Or how much I'm even allowed to push.

  "Have Lexi and Jared been together long?" I try to keep my tone level.

  I don't know what it is about Jared Corbit, but he makes me jumpy. He's done nothing, but I'm uneasy around him, inadequate. I hate feeling that way.

  "A while. A year, maybe?" Kit shakes her head, uncertain. "I don't know." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I don't want Lexi to die. We've already lost Mom. And now Daddy, too."