Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

  “Blake!” Sheriff Sullivan’s voice hollered from down the hallway. “Don’t say another word. You’re—”

  Tracy stalked in, slammed the door behind her, and locked it. Her face was pale, her mouth trembling in hurt and anger. Gemma felt terrible for exposing Blake’s crimes like this, and she prepared for the woman to spew in her direction.

  Instead, she jabbed her finger at Blake. “You are a son of a bitch.”

  “Baby, they don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re lying.”

  She turned to Gemma, her mouth in a pout. “I was the girl in that truck. He did the same thing to me, got me drunk and then worked his way into my pants. I was in love with him. I thought he was a great guy.” Tears filled her blue eyes and slid down her cheeks as she turned to Janey. “You were trying to help me, precious girl, and I thank you so much for that. Blake told me I had it all wrong. He said he got caught up in the passion of the moment, that he couldn’t stop because he loved me so much. I had made him crazy. How could I think the worst? I wanted him to feel that way about me. So I told myself that’s all it was.”

  “That’s what it was, baby,” Blake said, trying to step closer and gather her hands in his. “We were crazy in love.”

  She smirked, jerking her hands free. “So crazy in love that when I told you I was pregnant you told me to get an abortion.”

  “Blake!” his father yelled, pounding on the door. “Shut the fuck up! Everyone can—”

  Pax pounded on the door to camouflage his warning. “Is that what you told her?”

  Blake laughed, a sick, desperate sound. “We weren’t ready for that.”

  “And I told you that you’d damn well better get ready, because you were marrying me or I was telling everyone what you did. But it doesn’t change the fact that you raped me.” She glanced at Irina, then at Gemma. “I wouldn’t have called it that harsh word. I think of rape as a stranger in a dark alley. But they’re right. That’s what you did.”

  “Blake, you’re on the damned speaker system!” his dad finally managed to get in.

  Blake’s gaze shot to the control panel, where the red bulb was lit. Then to Gemma. “You bitch!”

  Pax stepped between Blake’s grasping hands and Gemma, knocking him back until he met the wall. “Don’t you touch her again.” Pax pinned him there with his arm across his throat.

  Blake’s face was crimson with rage as he punched the button. “You set me up!”

  Gemma leaned her hip against the desk. “Maybe you won’t serve time for your crimes, but now people will know what you really are.”

  The door burst open, breaking off at the hinges, and Blake’s father staggered in. He pushed Pax out of the way. “The boy’s passionate, that’s all,” he said in his official voice. In a lower one, he whispered to Blake, “You didn’t admit to anything. Keep it that way.”

  “Rape isn’t passion, Sheriff Sullivan,” Gemma said. “It’s rape, plain and simple. Something you should know.”

  “Of course, I know. I also know women get confused. They lose their minds and then regret it, make it into something it’s not.”

  “Is that your official statement, Sheriff, for the Chambliss News?” A man leaned into the doorway with his phone held out.

  The sheriff held out his hand. “Owen, give me your phone.”

  Owen held the phone against his chest. “Freedom of the press, sir. I have every right to be here as an invited guest, and every right to report what was broadcast over the speakers.” Seeing the menace on the sheriff’s face, he ducked out.

  Gemma could now hear the buzz of shocked conversation out in the showroom. She’d had no idea there was a reporter in the crowd.

  Blake slid to the floor, his face in his hands. “I’m ruined.”

  Pax said, “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? How this affects you. You never once thought about what you did to these ladies.”

  The sheriff turned his menacing face toward Pax. “Get. Out. Of. Here. You don’t belong in our family.”

  Pax winced at the harsh words. “Not if it means hiding the truth. And living a lie. No, sir, I don’t belong.”

  Pax took Gemma’s hand, put his hand on Janey’s back, and guided them out. Tracy, Lily, and Irina had already left and were off to the side of the showroom talking in whispers. Comparing notes, Gemma thought, as she caught a snatch of their conversation. Finding a sympathetic soul to share the pain they’d each been carrying alone for so long.

  Several people converged on them, asking Pax, “What the hell was that about?” in twenty different ways.

  “It’s about time that Blake started living in his truth,” Pax said.

  Owen nudged forward, his phone held out like a microphone. “You’re Gemma Thornton, who claimed Blake raped you seven years ago, aren’t you? I covered that story, but I wasn’t able to contact you.”

  “I wasn’t allowed to talk to reporters during the investigation. Afterward, I didn’t have the heart to. I figured no one would believe me anyway.”

  “I think it’s time to tell your story.”

  Gemma didn’t want to relive it again, but telling her story would be a warning to other girls who ended up in that same position. And it might encourage more victims to step forward and bring charges. “All right.”

  “Let’s meet at the Sunshine Café, where we can talk without all the noise,” Pax suggested. On the way there, he told Gemma, “The Chambliss News is our only newspaper. Owen likes to report on the sordid stuff, even though the sheriff and the Chamber of Commerce kind of discourage him.”

  “So he’ll tell it like it is?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. He’s eating this up, I bet.”

  At the coffee shop, Janey delighted in talking to people at the counter while Gemma told Owen her story, Pax holding her hand the whole time. When they were finished, she asked, “When will this run?”

  “Our next issue comes out in two days. Thank you for talking to me.” Owen tucked his phone away, bid them goodbye, and left.

  Gemma turned to Pax. “When that article comes out, everyone in town will be staring at me. Whispering. It’ll be just like last time.”

  He tightened his hold on her hand. “This is Chambliss. Even though it’s growing, the core residents will know long before that newspaper hits the stands.”

  “I have to get out of here, go back to New York. Just while this hits the fan.” She gave Pax an imploring look. “I can’t go through that again.”

  “But you’ll be vindicated.”

  “Maybe, but I’ll be known as the girl who exposed Blake, their golden boy.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Will you come back? To me?”

  “I will.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want to lose you again, Gemma. You go home, and you’ll feel comfortably anonymous. It might feel easier to stay.”

  He’d nailed exactly how she felt the first time. But she had at least three people here who mattered. “It’s always easier to run away,” she said. “I’m not doing easy anymore. I’ll be back. I promise.”

  —

  Gemma preceded Pax up the steps to his beach cottage. It sat on stilts in case of flooding during hurricanes, the base level serving as covered parking and storage. She couldn’t wait to see his home.

  “You can see the Gulf from here,” she said, turning when she reached the top deck. The setting sun cast the sky in shades of pink and gray.

  “At least until someone builds some four-story behemoth in front of me.”

  “I never appreciated the beauty of this place when I was forced to move here,” Gemma said. She took in Pax, with his windblown hair, dimples, and a smile that was much more bedazzling than the sunset. “Well, except for you.”

  He came up behind her, nuzzling her neck. “Aw, shucks.”

  She giggled, spinning around in his embrace. “That tickles!”

  “I never get tired of seeing a beautiful sight. Or girl.”

  Those words tickled,
too. “But you’ve lived here your whole life. Surely it gets…I don’t know. Mundane? Invisible.”

  “Nope. Every time I walk out my front door I take it in and think how lucky I am to have this.” And I would do the same with you. That’s what his eyes said.

  “I would think the same thing.” If I woke up next to you every morning.

  Harley barked at the door, giving them an imploring look.

  “Must be thirsty,” Pax said, reluctantly pulling away and leading her to the door.

  She stopped at the mat, which read, WIPE YOUR SANDY FEET HERE.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” he said. “Sand gets everywhere. Remember, this is a fishing guy’s cottage. And don’t judge. It was built in 1976.”

  “As long as you don’t have avocado tubs and sinks.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “How about purple?”

  “I’m judging big-time.”

  They shared a laugh that felt good after the tension of the past few days. He opened the door and waved her inside. “My humble abode.”

  The rough-hewn wood floors opened up the space, as did all the windows. It was one large room, with the kitchen in the back left corner and the living area to the right. The furniture was made of the same light wood as the floors, covered with big fat cushions that invited one to dive in. Thankfully, he didn’t have any purple, favoring muted tones of green and blue.

  “I like it,” she said. “It’s you.”

  Harley was slurping away at his water bowl.

  Pax chuckled. “Not only can you hear the surf from here, you hear the clatter of nails on the wood floor and the lovely ambience of slurping. And, occasionally, snoring.”

  “You or the dog?”

  “Ha. Funny. You know I don’t snore.”

  “I could live with all that.” Her eyes met his. With you. She had to pull her gaze away from him and divert herself with the blown-up photographs that had been printed on canvas. “I love these.”

  One depicted an incoming storm, the leading edge moving in to shore against a bright-blue sky. Another was a dog bounding up the beach in the utterly joyful abandon dogs possessed. Was that…Harley?

  “Did you take these?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “They’re fantastic. I didn’t know you took photographs.”

  “Just with a regular ole camera. Nothing like yours.”

  “They’re good, Pax. Really good.” That they shared an affinity for photography made him all the more delectable.

  “Thanks.”

  She wandered to one of the windows and touched the rough fabric draped over it. “Interesting.”

  “I used old sailboat canvas for my so-called curtains.”

  “Typical guy, I imagine, doesn’t see a need for privacy.”

  He shrugged. “Never worried about it. However, if you want to strut around here naked, I will definitely invest in some blinds.”

  “I might. You just never know,” she teased. She could see herself here. Could feel herself here.

  Pax wrapped his arms around her, the lightness fading from his face. “The paper comes out tomorrow. Have you made flight arrangements yet?”

  “Do you think I’m a wimp for running away?”

  “No. You’re the bravest woman I know.”

  “Thank you for saying that. And meaning it. I haven’t made any flight arrangements, because I’m not leaving you. No way am I making that stupid mistake twice.”

  “It’s going to get messy.”

  “For you, too. But we’re in this together.”

  He gathered her face in his hands and kissed her. “I love you, Gemma.”

  “I love you, too, Paxton.” She tilted her head. “You know, there’s one room you haven’t shown me yet….”

  Epilogue

  TWO WEEKS LATER…

  Pax crouched at the top of the second set of bleachers, squaring and tightening the seat plank.

  “You’re going to put ’em on all crooked if you keep looking over there,” Raleigh teased.

  “Busted.” Pax couldn’t help watching Gemma paint the concessions building, helped by Mia and Janey. Wade was in his wheelchair “supervising.” That’s all he was allowed to do, having just been released from the hospital.

  Cody shook his head, his blond hair flipping back and forth. “You guys and all that love stuff. Yuck. I’m going over to see if I can paint.” The kid skipped off toward the others, shuddering in mock disgust.

  “Well, I understand,” Raleigh said, chuckling. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off Mia, either, after we finally got together. Still can’t.” And indeed, he was staring at his girl, too. Grinning, he turned back to Pax. “I’m glad to see you so happy.”

  “I have to admit, I was a little jealous—okay, a lot jealous—when you and Mia connected again. I was happy for you, don’t get me wrong. But I realized I wanted that, too. Running off to the bars in PCB wasn’t doing it anymore.”

  “Funny how we thought that was all we needed.” Raleigh bent his knee and propped his elbow on it. “Life is good. Apart from that stuff with your brother.”

  It had been a tough two weeks. Shouting matches with his father. Janey standing up for herself and demanding that she be allowed to live in the group home, with Pax as her sponsor. Blake abdicating his role as president of the dealership and checking into a psychiatric facility. And some serious questions being raised about his father’s veracity as sheriff.

  Now it was time to straighten up another matter. “Blake’s not my brother. Not my full-blooded brother, anyway.”

  That got Raleigh’s attention. “What?”

  “My mother admitted to having an affair roughly nine months before I was born. Guess who my other half brother is.”

  Raleigh’s mouth stretched into a sly smile. “Me.”

  “You knew?”

  “I wondered. Especially with your dad hating me and my dad so much. I figured Hank and your mom were having an affair then. You remember how familiar they were, even that first time Hank took me to your house to—quote—’make sure I was behaving myself’? And you and I, we just jived from that first time we met, when I saved you from—”

  “You didn’t save me,” Pax said, but he was grinning. “I had it under control!” He shook his head. “Yeah, it makes total sense.”

  Cody came sprinting back, Harley at his heels. “They’re all talking mushy about you guys, too. I can’t get away from this stuff!” He grabbed a hammer and stalked over to the far end of the bleachers, muttering in a preteen-boy way about girls and kissy-faced people.

  Pax said, “So, if Cody’s your half brother—”

  “He’s your half bro, too,” Raleigh finished. “I think he’d like that.”

  “Let’s not tell him until the business with his mama settles out, ’kay?”

  Rose, Cody’s mother, had taken the plea deal and was now serving a reduced sentence. Pax bet she’d get out in a year or two. Until then, Raleigh and Mia were doing an a-mazing job of raising the kid. But he didn’t need another wrench thrown into his works.

  The rumble of an engine filled the air, and Pax lifted his head to see over the roofs of the concession building. A midnight blue Supra shot past the opening, slid sideways as it came around the side, and roared onto the track. Sponsor decals covered the car, touting all manner of car parts and engine manufacturers.

  “He’s early,” Raleigh said, checking his phone. “You sure we can trust this guy? He might be a pro drifter, but no one really knows him. Or where he gets his money. He kind of reminds me of my—our dad, with the charm and that confident swagger.”

  Pax climbed down the steps, with Raleigh close behind. “I trust him. He’s not asking for anything. He’s volunteering his time because he loves the sport so much and wants to grow it. He might keep to himself, but his rep is clean, and he’s known as an honest driver.”

  Tanner didn’t drift as he took a spin around the track, nor was he going full out. Smart, considering he didn’t know if th
ere were kids or dogs in the area. Which there were.

  “The regular racers aren’t thrilled with you bringing in drifting here, you know,” Raleigh said. “They think drifters are party animals.”

  “It sucks that there’s a divide between the classes. Drifters are out to have fun, though. I’ve hung out with Tanner at a couple of drifting events, and there’s definitely more of a party atmosphere. But they take the sport and safety just as seriously. And I say, let’s have more fun, right?”

  “Sweet ride,” Wade said with a whistle as he wheeled up, his eyes on the shiny new Supra.

  Artemis Tanner rolled to a stop in front of the three and killed the engine. He stepped out of his car wearing a white stretch shirt, black cargo pants, and boots. His blond hair needed a cut, and his face needed a shave. Pax suspected that that slightly scruffy look was intentional.

  “Pax, good to see you.” He slapped Pax’s hand, followed with a firm-verging-on-painful grip.

  “You, too, my friend. This is my brother Raleigh.” It felt strange to say the word, but the sentiment—that had always been there. “And my business partner, Wade, who’s recovering from a little run-in.”

  “Guy wanted to park in my kitchen,” Wade said with a good-natured smile.

  “No shit! Glad you’re all right.” He traded handshakes with both men.

  Pax presented him with a flourish of his arm. “This is Tanner, one of the best drift racers on the Formula Drift circuit, and a good guy to boot.”

  “Aw, come on, now. You’re making me blush.” He wasn’t blushing as he surveyed the track. “Nice speedway you have here. I’ve been studying it on Google Maps. I think we can set up a great drift program here, but of course I’ll have to give it a try.”

  “You bet. We’re still a couple of months away from opening. I’d like to have something in place by then. Put together some competitions, offer open drifting practice.”

  “Drifters are always stoked to have a new track. I’ll spread the word to the ones in this region, and pull in the fans, too. I have three weeks before the next Formula Drift round. I can help you here if I can practice. Hell, I’ll even paint the walls or whatever else you need for free practice time.”