Falling Under (2 page)

His eyes blazed for a minute, then went completely cold, “I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone,” he replied in a flat emotionless tone.

He took a step forward, “Let’s hang out. Do shit. I don’t know. Anything.”

“That’s not a good idea,” I insisted but there was a crack in my voice and he heard it.

The tense lines around his eyes diminished a little, “it is,” he said firmly.

He took a half step closer, green coolness glowed from his eyes and they softened as they searched my face. His hand moved slowly, reached across the small surface of space that remained between us.  I watched as he tentatively traced the tip of my nose, his touch as soft as a butterfly with calluses.

I sighed as his hand made contact, he grinned down at me and then his hand was gone.  He’d stepped back into the safety of his own personal space.

I was left hanging, my eyes wide, not knowing what to feel. I twisted the gloves in my hands, my cheeks burned but I couldn’t look away from his intense perusal.

He released a breath, “I’d like to spend some time with you tonight.  Either you come to me or I’ll come for you,” he turned and walked away.  I remained frozen, staring at his wide shoulders and the sleek muscles of his back and legs that bunched and relaxed as he moved.

I frowned. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I lay awake in bed late that night, eyes wide and unseeing were fixed on the shadowed ceiling. The sound of my heart drummed incessantly in my ears.

Would he have the guts to come for me?  And why was I hiding in my room afraid to go to sleep, yet waiting … I moaned in misery, “screw this shit,” I snarled. I jerked out of bed, tossed off the sheets.  Minutes later I was tiptoeing down the stairs.

I didn’t let myself think about where I was going.  I wasn’t even sure. I avoided looking at my dad’s bedroom, the last door down the dark hallway.

Outside our bungalow a half-moon greeted me from above the tree line. I bounded down the porch steps and started to jog down the dirt road.

Several minutes passed, I stopped as something on the right side of the road caught my attention. I turned, prepared to strike out when arms came from the trees. I lunged backwards, panic giving me strength but it was far stronger.  Hands fastened around my wrist, trapping me.

A scream rushed to the tip of my tongue-

“Shit! I’m sorry Lola. It’s me,” he pulled me into the secure nest of his arms.

I swung from panic to absolute fury, “you stupid idiot,” I yelled, “you nearly scarred me to death!”

“I know,” he said softly but his words were stifled.

I tore out of his arms, his eyes shone bright with mirth, he held up a defensive hand, “Okay I’m an asshole but I thought you knew I’d come meet you.”

“Forgive me if I didn’t know that you were the type to hide in the shrubbery.”

He stopped laughing, “You’re right. I was coming up the road when you left the house.”

I took a menacing step closer to him, “so you did that on purpose?”

He hanged his head, “hey look I never had a sister to torture.  Cut me some slack.”

“You really are an asshole.”

His head came up and his face was no longer open and smiling, his cheeks look gaunt, his eyes darker than the night around us, “I am.”

A warning voice said to leave … but I didn’t move. I got the feeling his little stunt had been a test.

I buried these thoughts and turned away from him. I looked down the lonely, dark road lit only by the soft glow of the moon, “so where are we going tonight?”

He stepped forward, took my hand and twined our fingers together, “to the lake.  It’s beautiful on clear nights.”

Chapter three

The lake was inky black under the moon. I scrambled onto a large boulder, lay flat on my belly and dipped my fingers in.

He layed down next to me, “I’ve got something to confess.”

“Oh?” I tried to sound careless, I didn’t turn to him, “what’s that?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks.”

The touch of the water on my fingers went away. I stilled, hoping I’d not heard him right. My eyes stayed focused on the shimmering surface of the lake.

I took a shaky breath, “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I joked.

“Not all,” he admitted ruefully, a smile in his voice.

I scrambled up to my knees but kept my back to him, “Is this where I melt with gratitude?”

He stuck his face beneath mine, rested his head brazenly in my lap. I looked down into his narrowed darkened eyes, “I would never say no to any sort of melting,” he winked outrageously.

I blushed and was glad that the night hid it.

He let out a rueful chuckle, “I know-”

“Lola!” My dad’s roar sent me reeling, I jumped to my feet, leaving Jake prone on the boulder, he quickly rebalanced and stood beside me. He reached out to take my hand.

I snatched it away and refused to look at him. I didn’t want to see the hurt there. I scooted down the rock onto the sandy beach of the lake.

My dad stood in front of me, his dark face made blacker by anger.

He gripped my arm and hauled me after him, I stuck my heels into the sand, “please dad, I’m alright.”

“Let go her fucking arm,” Jake’s voice was quiet and dead.

I flinched as Jake stood beside me.  His lean face was transformed.  Gone was the open, teasing man I’d spent the last half hour with and in its place was a face that would frighten a burglar.  His eyes were slits, his mouth one white, thin line, tension hummed all around him.

He gripped my dad’s arm, the same one that held me imprisoned.

Beside me my dad’s chest rose and fell with fury.

I tried to stay calm, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

My dad’s eyes slashed to mine, the muscles in his jaw throbbed, “you sneak out of the house at midnight to meet the doctor’s son and claim you didn’t do anything wrong?”

I tensed but Jake beat me to a reply.

“She’s an adult, she can do whatever the hell she wants.”

“Not under my roof,” my dad shot back.

His eyes dropped to Jake’s strong fingers wrapped around his arm, “take your damn hands off me.”

“Take your hands off Lola,” Jake said low, his voice laced with steel, “and then I’ll consider it.”

Unbelievably my dad let Jake go, then released my arm.  He shot Jake a look full of simmering disgust, “why don’t you leave? It would be best for everyone around these parts.”

Huh?

I turned to question Jake and stopped. He was standing with his legs slightly apart, his fists clenched at his side. His face was carved from stone, his eyes … they were savage and filled with such bottled rage. I caught my breath.

He heard me, his eyes swung down to mine, he took a tentative step closer. I felt my dad move up behind me. To protect me from Jake?

I swung to my dad, “Stop this. Jake’s not gonna hurt me!” my dad glared and opened his mouth to say something, I ignored him and turned back to Jake.

But he was gone. His long, angry strides rapid, his body stiff with anger.

An ache closed over my throat as I watched him stalk away.

My dad huffed in disdain, “Come,” he snapped over his shoulder as he too headed for home.

Jake’s words from moments before burned on my tongue,
I’m an adult, leave me the hell alone!

But the rebellious thoughts never left my mouth. I owed my dad too much. I followed him home.

Chapter four

Dad stopped the moment we got home. The glare of the yellow porch light flooded the front yard. He paused at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door.

I stiffened as his eyes raked over me but I didn’t look away. Rage I expected but … pity I hadn’t.

“Lola, don’t do this to yourself,” he pleaded his weathered face twisted in lines of worry.

I wrapped my arms about my waist, his anger I could’ve handled but not this, “Dad, it’s not what you think.”

His brown eyes grew hard, “how so? I may be old but I know what a man like him wants,” he said coldly.

I raised my chin defiantly, “so what?” I shot back, “at least I know he could feed whatever brat he put in my belly!”

His hand came up, then he glared at me as I stood trembling but not backing down, he dropped it, “dammit Lola this was not the life Margery and I wanted to give you,” he groaned.

He should’ve hit me. It would’ve been kinder. Instead he reminded me of that
fact
.

I fought against the urge to cry out but I wounded him in the only way I could, “you’re not my real father, so why should you care if I destroy my life.”

The whites of his eyes showed, his teeth gleamed as he absorbed the brutal truth of my words, “I’m not your father but I’m the only family you got, you hear me?” he barked.

I wobbled on my feet and closed my eyes tight. Adopted. At eight. And taken to live in the small Colorado town called Peaceful Valley, where everyone had roots and tattered, treasured Christmas toys they loved.

He gulped, “don’t see him again.”

“No!” the words leaped out of my mouth without thought. I glared mutinously at him, my body started to tremble with wrath.

His eyes grew cold at the look on my face, I tried to reason, “We work for him-”

“We work for his father,” he cut me off.

“He’s my friend,” I flung back, though until that moment I didn’t know it was true.

His mouth twisted with derision, “And I’m little red riding hood,” he reached towards me but I flinched back, his mouth turned grim, “that punk only wants to play Lola. Then he’ll toss you aside and walk away.”

That stung because it was too close to what I’d accused Jake of. Tormented I pushed past him and dragged open our front door, I yelled back at him, “what I do with my life is none of your business, if you don’t want me here just say the word and I’ll go!”

“Lola!” he yelled after me, I ran inside but his next words chased me down, “you’re all I got left.”

He left me at home the next day when he went to service Jake’s yard.

I wasn’t surprised.

I watched from the kitchen window as his beat up Silverado truck lumbered out of the yard. I turned and faced the living room. I grimaced, cobwebs grew like tiny ropes of moss on the ceiling fan in the living room.

I plucked a damp rag from the sink and grabbed a wooden stool from around the counter. I plopped the stool down underneath the fan.

I stepped up onto it, reached for the closest blade and missed. I wobbled, arms extended, I veered to one side, “sheeeit-”

“Get down!” snapped a firm voice right behind me.

I gasped and toppled backwards. I screamed with rage as I fell but it was abruptly cut off as strong arms I was coming to know too well snatched me out of midair. I latched onto him because I had to. Not doing so meant I’d become a little too acquainted with the floor.

I reared up to glare into his green eyes, “Dammit Jake, stop sneaking up on me!”

Instead of some flippant comment, he did something I hadn’t expected. He tucked my face against his chest. His heartbeat thundered in my ears.

My anger disappeared. He’d been frightened for me. I relaxed against him. Moments passed, then slowly he pulled away to look into my face. He placed me carefully on my legs and stepped back. My knees felt weak as the ground came under them once more.

His cheeks held a delicate blush, his eyes were soft with remorse.

“My timing is crap. I know.” his mouth thinned, his eyes were guarded, “do you want me to leave?”

I decided to mess with him. I tapped a finger against my chin, “breaking and entering is a crime. Perhaps I should call the-”

“Don’t!” his shout ricocheted across my living room with its saggy brown couch and an ancient TV that sported an antenna that looked like a fossil.

Startled I managed not to flinch, I searched his eyes and saw the shadows that made their green depths dark and murky, “Lighten up,” I said quietly, “ I was just kidding.”

He gave me a stiff nod and looked about the room.

But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, “so why did you break into my house?”

He shrugged, shot a glance at the ceiling fan, then back to me, “to stop you from breaking your neck.”

“Ah, how sweet.”

His eyes turned cold, “I’m not sweet.”

I guffawed, “Oh I never thought you were, perhaps a stalker, definitely a burglar but sweet. Nope.”

His gaze fell a few inches down my face, “I bet your mouth is sweet,” his eyes cold one second was once again hot and clear.

Heat flared inside my chest, sending tiny sparks of warmth flooding outwards that tickled my fingertips. I cleared my throat loudly, “let’s not think about how my mouth tastes, okay?”

His thick brows knitted, his hands came up. I hastily stepped back out of their long reach, he smiled a slow pull of his lips, “you’re afraid of me again.”

“Ya think!” I burst out, glad to latch onto something other than his chiseled lips, “you broke into my house!”

“You knew I’d come.”

I was about to dispute it when water squirted between my fingers, I looked down at the washcloth I was absently mangling.  A thought struck. I held it out to him, “now that you’re here, I’m gonna put you to work.”

He shrugged, took the cloth from my hand, “anything you want,” his eyes gleamed at the double entendre.

He stepped up onto the stool. The stool wobbled under his large frame.

Worried I reached up to him, “maybe I should do this, I’m not sure the stool can hold you.”

He frowned at me, “sweetheart I build things for a living, this stool is much stronger than you think.”

It was the first time he’d spoken about a job.

I stepped back, “Wow. For a moment there I thought you were just living off daddy’s money and off-roading in your free time.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. Oh shit. But I refused to take it back.

His hand stilled on the fan blade for a moment, but then he continued as if I hadn’t just insulted him.

He came down off the stool with measured, careful steps.