Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

  Their mother’s face shuttered. “You’re just saying that because you and Pax have this bond, a bond I could never forge with you.”

  “Because Pax helps me to grow up. He believes in me.”

  “Of course I believe in you, baby. I—” Her expression wilted. “I haven’t helped you to grow up.”

  Janey’s expression held no malice. “No, Mama, you haven’t. I feel like I am retarded, like kids sometimes say. When I’m with Pax, I feel normal.”

  Their mother turned to him. “Don’t do this, Pax. Don’t put us through this again. I won’t take another son from your father. I won’t.” And she left the kitchen.

  Another son. Because she’d taken him from Tom Sullivan, in a way, when he discovered the truth.

  Pax leaned out the kitchen door. “Mama, I need you to drive me to the B&B in Blake’s truck. I have to get my own truck and head to the track.”

  From around the corner, she called out, “Have Janey bring it back. I know you helped her get her driver’s license—against my wishes. Let her drive.” Her feet stomped up the stairs. “Come right back, Janey, y’hear!”

  Janey’s eyes were wide, but a smile broke out on her face as she eyed the keys. “Can I?”

  He handed them to her. “You bet.”

  —

  “Dad, I think I’m in love with Pax.”

  Gemma’s dad sat back in the bed and laced his fingers together. “Really? That’s interesting.”

  “Interesting? That’s all you have to say about it?” Gemma was leaning forward in her chair, body tensed.

  “Oh, I could say a lot.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, knotty comes to mind. As in the tangled variety. And nice.” He nodded. “Yeah, nice. I like Paxton. He’s a good man, and he’d treat you well. And if you two got together that would mean you’d move here.”

  “I couldn’t live here. People don’t forget. Pax’s family sure hasn’t.” She wouldn’t get into Emily here at the hospital. “You and Mom couldn’t even make it, and you didn’t have all the water under the bridge that Pax and I do.”

  “Your mother and I wanted different things. Being united in an outside goal, having some history to overcome, might have drawn us closer.”

  She wanted to tell him about her behavior that morning. How can I overcome throwing my clothes at him and accusing him of being in love with…well, me? she wanted to ask. But she was too embarrassed to hear herself say it.

  Her father reached for her hand. “I’d love it if you and Pax were a couple.”

  She smiled at his heartfelt sentiment. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen, but I appreciate your support. You might be the only one who does support us.” She squeezed his hand. “I should probably go. I’m going to help Pax with the bleachers. I’ll be by again soon.”

  She paused by the door. “If…if I were to move back here, what would you think about offering photograph packages to families and couples? Even cultivating a wedding- and-anniversary-event business?”

  His smile widened. “I like it. A lot.”

  She blew him a kiss and headed down the hall to the elevator. A tug-of-war twisted her insides—Go versus Stay. Mia had recently moved back for love. But she’d been a victim, not a villain. No one had reason to hate her.

  Gemma looked for two particular haters as she exited. She’d seen Emily when she came in, but the woman hadn’t approached her. Luckily, she was absent as Gemma walked out into the balmy day, inhaling the fresh air in an attempt to drive out the hospital smells.

  She relaxed once she reached the parking lot…until she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around to find Blake, looking hungover and rumpled. She stood her ground, crossing her arms in front of her. “What do you want?”

  “To show you this.” He held out a photo from a safe distance, though she could smell stale alcohol on him. “Someone took it at the beach party.”

  Gemma didn’t want to see anything from that night, but she took the photo anyway. A fire-lit scene of people sitting around the bonfire. Off to the side, there she was, sitting on Blake’s lap. Her stomach lurched at the sight of that drunk girl with her arms draped around his neck, her head lolled against his chest. She’d seen this and similar pictures posted on Facebook, tagging her. Along with ugly accusations. Seeing one again felt like a slap in the face. A kick in the stomach.

  “How was a seventeen-year-old boy supposed to interpret this girl’s intentions?” he asked. “Short skirt. Drunk and flirty, sprawled on my lap. You couldn’t miss my hard-on. So yeah, I expected when we left the group that we were going to have sex.”

  “Even though I told you I wasn’t doing that?”

  “I figured you were just playing coy,” Blake kept hammering on, trying to convince himself as much as her, she suspected. He gestured toward the picture. “We gave the state attorney pictures like these, taken from a few different phones. That’s why they didn’t prosecute me. They knew they didn’t have a chance of convincing a jury that this girl said no and meant it.”

  She hated that stupid girl and hated the doubt clawing at her even more. She could see how the state attorney might have viewed pictures like these.

  He went on, his expression earnest. “I didn’t know you were a virgin. And yeah, I was a butthead for saying that I wasn’t committing to you afterward. I didn’t want you to get any ideas about the future and have your heart broken.”

  She sneered. “That was sweet of you.”

  “It was shitty, but I didn’t deserve to be accused of rape.” He jabbed his finger at the picture again. “Go back to that moment, Gemma. What did that girl want?”

  To be with Pax. To escape the pain of her bad decision. But she said nothing, because to explain meant to expose more of herself than she cared to. She turned and started heading to her car, but his words stopped her.

  “What’s the deal with you and Pax?”

  “There’s no deal.”

  “You trying to turn him against me? Is that your plan now, since prosecuting me didn’t work?”

  “I don’t have a plan. I’m here to help my father. And Pax…he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.” She turned again, determined not to look back.

  Blake’s voice didn’t pull her attention this time as he yelled, “Stay away from him, from all of us! And I’ll stay away from you.”

  She reached her car, wishing she could tear the picture up and toss the bits to the ground. As though she could eradicate that part of her, too. But her fingers held on to it as she closed herself inside. Then stared at the girl in the picture. Hadn’t she doubted all along that she’d given mixed signals? And here were those signals, staring her in the face. Pax thought she had to forgive that girl, but seeing her made it so hard.

  “Stupid girl,” she hissed. No matter her reasoning, no matter that she’d wanted to be with Pax, there she was, sitting on that ape’s lap. It didn’t excuse him, didn’t justify anything he’d done. But it showed her own lack of judgment that, given her childish display earlier, was still evident.

  Was falling for Pax part of that bad judgment? She checked in with herself, recalling memories from the past few days and gauging how she felt. Moments later, she had her answer.

  She drove out to the track, glad that the gates were open. She saw only Pax’s truck, and she parked next to it. In the distance, he stood amid a jumble of aluminum parts that gleamed in the sunlight, watching her approach. Gemma wasn’t sure what he thought of her now, and that knotted her tummy. Harley, however, was happy to see her, racing toward her, ears flying back.

  She knelt and let him give her dog kisses. She understood why people loved dogs. Pax was right about how they gave you unconditional love. You never had to explain anything to them or wonder if they thought you were slightly neurotic.

  Pax was on his way over, too, though his tail wasn’t wagging—figuratively speaking. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses. His hair was wild and curly, damp at his neck. He wo
re khaki shorts that went midthigh and no shirt, his tanned skin glossy with perspiration.

  He removed his sunglasses when he neared her. “Hey. Everything all right?”

  “I…” I’m sorry for being an idiot. The words stuck in her throat. “Thought I’d come help with the bleachers.”

  “That’d be great.” He searched her eyes, his expression giving nothing away. “You okay?”

  She wasn’t going to get into her encounter with Blake, because she’d have to tell him about the picture. He’d want to see it. Maybe he’d have doubts, too, and she couldn’t take that when she was already in such a tender place. “I’m fine.” Liar.

  If he thought the same thing, he didn’t challenge her, as he’d done before. She wasn’t sure which was worse, so she averted her gaze to the pieces she could now see were in organized piles. “You did all this by yourself just this morning?”

  “Mia, Raleigh, and Cody were here earlier. Cody is Raleigh’s half brother. We recently found out that his mama murdered his dad last year.” A shadow passed over his face. “She caught him sexually abusing their son and went psycho-mom on him. When the truth came out a few weeks ago, she went on the run, but she’s back. Grace Parnell is working on the terms of her surrender, and she called Raleigh this morning to let him know it was time. Of course, they wanted to be there to support her.”

  “So that’s what that call Grace took was about…well, you probably heard.”

  He exhibited no contriteness in his shrug. “I already knew about it. This is the murder I was telling you about, when my dad arrested Raleigh without any substantial evidence. The reason I quit the police force, or should I say, finally gave me the impetus to leave. Grace is negotiating a reduced sentence, given a self-defense argument. The guy who was killed, he’s…he’s…” He stared off for a second, his mouth tightening. “He deserved it.”

  “Is it awful to feel better about your situation when you hear about someone else’s woes?”

  “I hope not. I’ve done the same. Let’s get to work.”

  He had quit over a matter of integrity, just as he was willing to risk losing his family for her and for justice. Everything she discovered about his character only strengthened her feelings.

  She focused on the array of parts that he led her to. “It looks like a big puzzle. How the heck do you make sense of it all?”

  Pax pointed to a large piece of paper. “Frame plan. We just finished placing the parts where they’re supposed to go. You can help me set up the risers.”

  He walked her through the process, consulting the directions and calling out orders. She was amazed by his logic and even more so by his patience. Even if she had something turned around, he gently corrected her. He taught her how to use the wrench and the electric screwdriver. In between, though, he sank into dark thoughts that surely involved her. He was probably trying to think of a graceful way to back off, and she’d handed him plenty of reasons—thrown them at him, actually.

  She watched his finite focus, though with the sunglasses she couldn’t see his eyes. She’d donned sunglasses, too, after tiring of squinting in the bright sun. But she knew Pax well enough that his lack of joking and the absence of his making their work fun meant something.

  You’ve lost him. Which would really be for the best, but it still twisted her stomach into even tighter knots. It didn’t matter that she’d never really had him. That she couldn’t have him without both of them making huge sacrifices. She was glad she wore shades now, but she had to stop herself from swiping beneath the lenses at the tears that didn’t know any better.

  Once they’d squared up the risers, making a framework on which to set the benches, he checked all the ends. They were color-coded, thank goodness.

  “We’re set,” he said, a tight smile to go along with his nod. “Good job. Ready to help me carry the seats and walk boards?”

  “Paxton, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I need to focus on this, Gemma. I’ve gotta shove everything else out of my head or it’ll explode.”

  No, this wasn’t looking good at all.

  “I don’t know how men can compartmentalize like that. I’m jealous.” Because all I can think about is: What are you thinking about?

  He lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Survival.”

  She started to say that she was sorry, but he gestured as he walked over to where all the long aluminum planks were laid out.

  Shove it into a box until later.

  Yeah, right.

  “It’s not heavy, but let me know if it’s uncomfortable, ’kay?” he said, kneeling down and grabbing the end. “Use your legs, not your back.”

  She could do this. Following his lead, she knelt and hoisted the end. “I have it.”

  “I’ll walk backward. We’re going to lay them where they’re supposed to go, and we’ll fasten them down tomorrow. Raleigh will be here to help then.”

  Did that mean Pax didn’t want her here? Talk about self-doubt. She was swimming in it.

  They walked the plank over to the risers and lifted it to the top level first. Well, he lifted it. She held it as high as she could, even up on her tippy toes. “That’s as high as I can go.”

  “Okay, hang on. I’ll be right over.” Pax set his side and stepped up close behind her. He reached for the plank she was holding and laid it on the top riser.

  She turned around in the confines of his arms. “I’m sorry.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t sweat it.”

  “Really? You’re going to let me off that easily?”

  “You can’t help that you’re not tall enough to reach it.”

  He walked back over to the next plank. That’s not what I was sorry about, you lug! She took a big drink of the sports drink he’d brought her and headed to her end of the next plank.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  For what? You, a part of her screamed. For your easy smile, for the way you said you thought you were in love with me, and the way you showed me that you were. Her body chimed in, too, remembering how those strong hands, those able fingers, had taken her to heaven. How that tanned, hard body had felt lying against her, curled around her.

  Pax had woken up that sexy part of her that had been hibernating all these years. But the sexy part of her was that stupid girl. That made it hard to trust herself or her feelings. Now it was too late. She tried to accept that, to let it settle in, as Pax had once said about their declaration of their feelings.

  They continued to set the seats and then the walk boards. He circled the bleachers as he surveyed their work, then moved to the tall section at the back to inspect it from beneath.

  She pretended to do the same, just to be close to him. “Did we do it right?”

  He reached up to shift one plank, then glanced her way. “Looks good. I appreciate your help, Gemma. But I’m done.”

  The words froze her, and without seeing his eyes she couldn’t tell what, exactly, he was done with. This task? Her? “I was happy to help,” she squeaked out.

  He flopped onto a pile of flattened cardboard boxes in the shade beneath the bleachers with a ragged sigh. “Man, I’m beat.”

  She took him in, on his back with one leg bent, hands crossed over his flat stomach. His chest glistened, a drop of sweat rolling down his side. Part of her, the self-preservation part, wanted to leave. To see if he’d call her back or let her go with some dignity still intact. But she’d run off before, and she wasn’t about to do it again.

  She removed her sunglasses and, hovering over him, plucked his from his face. “Pax, I’m sorry about this morning. I guess I still have some issues to work on.”

  He touched her chin. “I can handle an onslaught of girl clothes. At least you didn’t make me put them on.”

  She loved that he would make light of that embarrassing moment. But the relief coursing through her, that was heavenly. “My words were a lot harsher.”

  He gave her a solemn nod. “The question is, are
you willing to conquer those issues? And do you want me by your side when you do? Before you say yes, be sure, because if I want something I’ll fight for it. Like this speedway. And teaching Janey to be independent. It’s worth every scrape and bruise and risk. You’re worth every scrape and bruise, too, but you have to believe that. And you have to want it.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting in his neck. “Want me.”

  His words melted her. Yes, I do! “Before you offer something like that, you need to see this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture. “I’m not sure I am worth it, Paxton.” She warred with crushing that picture or showing him all of her: her doubts, her fears, and the part of herself that shamed her. Before she could lose that battle, she shoved it at him. “This is me. At the party that night.”

  He sat up and looked at it. Were the shadows in his eyes disappointment?

  She needed to know. “That girl, did she put out signals? Did she somehow deserve to be pushed beyond her boundaries?”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Blake. At the hospital just now. I know he’s trying to convince me that I’m wrong. And probably trying to convince himself.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he hissed.

  She appreciated his anger on her behalf, but did she deserve it?

  These words were even harder to push out than the apology: “What you and I did in bed felt really, really good. And I really, really liked it. And I really, really want to do more.”

  He tilted his head. “And…what’s the problem with that?”

  “Don’t you see? Maybe this sensual part of me is what pushed Blake over the line.”

  “You think I’m going to lose control and take you against your will?”

  “No, no, that’s not it at all. It’s that this part of me…what if it invited sex with Blake? What if…I were to blame, too?” She took a deep breath, curling her fist to her solar plexus. “I have always felt that I was one hundred percent in the right. That I was violated. But there’s this seed of doubt deep inside whispering that I brought this on in some way, and that doubt is tied to this part of me.” She pointed to the picture. “That’s why I tried to bury her. What do you see when you look at her, Paxton? Please, tell me the truth.”