Falling Under Read online

  Oh no.

  “Jake?” I reached for him, tears starting to blind me, my hands trembling so hard I fought to keep them still.

  He cut off my touch, recoiled in his seat, his face a contorted mask of self-loathing, “Don’t pity me!” he snarled.

  I groaned. I would’ve given anything to stop the depth of suffering in his voice. He was in agony.

  “Get out,” his words were cold, devoid of the rich depth of feeling I’d come to need from him.

  I didn’t move. Couldn’t. He couldn’t be asking me to go. Not when he’d just given me a glimpse of what it could be like with him.

  “Get out!” his roar rocked the jeep, spittle flew into my face.

  I cried out and swiped it from my cheek.

  I turned to him, sobs squeezed my throat, “Jake … please. I don’t care about your past, it’s over.”

  His eyes went blank, he reached over, careful not to touch me or the blanket he’d tucked around my legs just before we left the building site, he stared at me and his gaze was empty, “For you and me yes. And also for the family I killed.”

  I lifted the blanket from my legs, my fingers working without any feeling.

  I slipped out of the jeep and stood next to my dad and Dez who were like ghosts behind me. I watched helpless as Jake floored the gas, scouring the earth between us as he ripped a path away from me.

  Chapter eight

  Dad reached for my hand.

  I pushed him away. Stepped far enough so that we couldn’t touch.

  His eyes were turned down at the corners, “Lola, I’m so sorry.”

  I started to laugh, then began to cry, then it burst out in a scream, “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? Why?”

  “Lola,” Dez cut in.

  “Shut up!” I bellowed, I stomped towards him, “you knew didn’t you?”

  Dez swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking, his eyes were sad but determined, “I wanted to tell you but you were too far gone.”

  “What?” I demanded, my voice dropping to ominous levels.

  Dez bristled and glared at me, “You’re falling in love with him. How would it sound if I had told you the man you’d fallen in love with had murdered a mom who’d been six months pregnant with her third child and her two young girls?”

  A moaned escaped me, “that’s not fair. I would’ve heard you …” I trailed off miserable.

  Dez grunted and folded his arms across his chest, “exactly. Lola. Curse me all you want but it should’ve been him who told you.”

  I swallowed a rush of tears, “Oh Dez,” I groaned, trying to focus on his broad open face, “don’t you see he’s had to live with that every second of his life,” I hissed fiercely.

  I swung to my dad, his eyes burned with sorrow for me, he inclined his head, “It’s over. Let’s go home.”

  I should’ve accepted it … gone home, but there was no way in hell I was going to abandon Jake.

  I stepped away from his hand. “No.”

  I turned to Dez, “I’m gonna borrow your car.” It wasn’t a question.

  Dez’s eyes widened. Then the shock left his face. A grin the size of the moon split his cheeks, “damn girl, you got it bad.”

  A smile trembled on my lips.

  I headed for Jake’s home.

  The house I’d never set foot in before. I pulled up in front of his driveway and parked.

  A wide maple door with a sleek silver knocker in the shape of a wolf’s head, greeted me. I slammed it home twice.

  Night was already thick and heavy, the trees all looked black, clear lights spilled onto the driveway from solar lights sprinkled subtly around the yard.

  I reached for the doorbell again, the door opened with my hand in midair. An elderly man, stooped from age, his hair white with tiny liver spots over his shiny forehead opened the door.

  I smiled, “Dr. Heathcliff?”

  “Yes?” his voice was gravelly, it would’ve once been deep and rough like Jake’s. A shiver went up my spine.

  I fidgeted, it was one thing to know I had to speak to Jake. And quite another to come barging into his home at night and face one of the town’s eminent citizens.

  I tucked a tray lock of hair behind my ear, “Um… Sorry about disturbing you but I need to talk to Jake.”

  His eyes, a faded green like old tea leaves, squinted at me, “you’re the groundskeeper’s girl aren’t you?” his voice was still strong.

  I nodded, “I just need to see Jake.”

  The doctor stepped back, “well, he ain’t here, haven’t seen him since last night,” he waved me forward, “well don’t just stand there looking awful on my doorstep, come in.”

  I hesitated, then followed. Inside the house was clean, simple. Beautiful dark wood floors with a few pattern rugs dotted the floors in front of soft looking leather couches. A small fire burned in the wood fireplace. On the granite countertops was a small bowl of soup and a glass of wine.

  Dr. Heathcliff went back to his dinner.

  Standing in the middle of the room, a feeling of not belonging swept over me, my worn shorts and old t-shirt felt like an insult to the polished surroundings.

  The doctor threw me a look, “it’s been a long time since a pretty girl came looking for Jake.”

  I offered him a weak smile, took a step back, “perhaps I should be going. I can come back tomorrow.”

  The doctor chuckled, sipped some of his soup, “afraid of him, are ya?”

  I stopped, “Of course not!”

  White brows went up, in almost the same manner Jake did when he was intrigued by something, he chuckled gustily, “I like your spirit.” The sound of an engine coming into the driveway had both of us turning to the noise.

  Seconds later the front door banged open. Jake burst in and looked from his dad to me. Then back again.

  His eyes, cold with bitter fury, settled on me, “dad can you please give Lola and I some time alone?” his words were clipped but correctly polite.

  Dr. Heathcliff gave me a weary smile, “it was nice meeting you. Love the work you guys’ have done on the lawn by the way.” He left unhurriedly and walked down a corridor behind an elegant length of iron stairs that climbed to the ceiling of the house.

  Jake moved, coming towards me, even as his father disappeared from sight, my hands flew to my mouth.

  He towered over me, his eyes flashed cold in his hard face, “why are you here?” he demanded.

  It was now or never, I met his withering look, “Your shitty attitude won’t get rid of me that easily!”

  He laughed, mockery thick in his voice, “I don’t need your pity,” he said viciously.

  I’d come too far to let him rip me to shreds without a fight. I jabbed a finger into his rock hard chest. Stunned he stared at the digit, I didn’t remove it, “I want to keep on building what you started. I won’t let you run from this.”

  His lips peeled back over his teeth, he bent so that he could look me in the eyes, “I don’t need you, Lola. A fuck now and then but nothing more.”

  I tossed my head enraged by his crude insult, “well then prove it. Let me hang with you. Follow you to your next job site,” tears, stupid, silly tears started to flood my throat, I forced them down. I couldn’t break down in front of him.

  I stepped past the distance he’d put between us, grabbed his shoulders, the thick muscles clenched tight beneath my touch. I glared up at him, “you once told me that you just wanted to be friends, so now return the favor, give me that chance.”

  He grabbed my hands from him, I thought he’d pushed me away, drag me to the door and deposit me back outside.

  He did none of those things.

  There was space between us, then there wasn’t. He suffocated me in a bear hug, buried his face in my neck. He shivered like a man about to be blown away. I held onto him, crushed him against me as best I could.

  He tipped back and looked into my eyes, his own were dry, but tears swam in their depths, it was as if he couldn’t cry, didn’
t dare too. His smile was a gruesome parody of happiness, “most days it’s like I’m all cut up inside and I can’t stop bleeding.”

  I shivered against him, touched his cheek, “maybe when something like that happens you can’t completely heal.”

  He turned his face from me and the first tears started to run down his scruffy cheeks, “I was drunk. Thought I could handle it. Coming home from a bar. I’d gotten a residency at Banter Children’s Hospital that morning,” his eyes went blank with horror, “one moment I was in the right lane, then I was swerving into oncoming traffic.”

  He shook me hard, stared into my eyes, “the mom, her name was Angel, she died in my arms, the little ones … Oh God. Lola,” he folded in on himself, crumpled against me, his weight and guilt dragged me to the floor.

  I wrapped myself around him, trying to get my hands around arms and shoulders that were too large and wide to handle. But screw that I tried. Hugged him fiercely. He wept in my arms. Deep, gnawing sobs. And I began to cry too, tears that came from somewhere inside.

  Minutes, hours, I don’t know but time passed. We moved from the floor to the closest couch. He laid down. I staggered upright, my bones creaking in painful protest. I reached for a blanket to cover him.

  His green eyes, swollen and dark, flickered open, “don’t go,” his voice was hoarse.

  “It’s late,” I protested feebly.

  He raked a tired hand over his eyes and yawned, “I’d like to sleep with you tonight,” a half-hearted grin momentarily lit up his face, “but my intentions are honorable. I swear.”

  With such an offer I didn’t need to be asked twice. I curled up beside him. His heavy body relaxed against mine.

  His body felt like a warm wall behind me and just as thick and impenetrable. He made me feel safe.

  He brushed my ears with his lips and whispered, “I could love you.”

  A painful mixture of joy and heartache welled up inside me. Sleep vanished from my mind. He could love me?

  Did I want that?

  I settled my face against the warmth of his shoulders, drew the scent of him into me. He still smelled of fresh, primitive river water, it was as alive in his clothes as it was carving its way through the rocks, heedless and unstoppable.

  And I had my answer, “me too,” I mumbled terrified that he would respond but soft, gentle breaths were all that answered me. He was already asleep. And soon I joined him.

  Chapter nine

  At the first lick of dawn, after a silent breakfast, we drove for several hours to another remote building site deep out in the country. It was a farm. We pulled up beside a metallic grey Silverado truck. Brown grass, waist high, with stubborn slices of green life immediately swallowed half of me.

  I grimaced, pushed it aside and followed Jake who got out his toolbox. A few yards up ahead a backhoe was busy digging out the foundation of what would once again be someone’s home.

  Jake stopped beside the backhoe, waved, “Hey, Mack! Good morning. Ready to switch?”

  The driver waved to us then finished scooping up another great pile of bronzed dirt from the foundation of the home site. Large lumps of dirt trickled from the jaws of the machine as it lumbered over to dump it onto a twenty-foot mound.

  Jake looked down at me, his eyes were soft this morning, warmth left over from the intimacy of last night.

  “Mind hanging out by yourself for a few hours?” he asked.

  I scrunched my brow, gave him a tart look, “you dragged me all this way just to dump me?”

  He flashed a grin, one that relaxed the stiff muscles of his lean cheeks and put green fire into his eyes, he cocked his head and searched my eyes. I didn’t spot his intentions until it was too late.

  His mouth on mine was soft, delicate, a touch of air that teased at my lips. I stopped breathing. Tried to savor each touch of him.

  He lifted away too soon, his eyes narrowed, his bottom lip plumped from the brief contact.

  His smirk widened, “Shush. You talk too much.”

  I harrumphed, flustered by the warmth in his voice, “since you don’t need me now, I’ll head over to those trees until you do.”

  “That’s a date,” he walked off to the empty backhoe.

  I flushed bright red as I turned on my heels. I threw a look at Mack who was climbing down from the vehicle. Had Mack had seen our little têtê a têtê. Hurriedly I scooted towards the trees.

  Embarrassment forgotten, I laughed in delight as I broke into the clump of pale green leaves. Creamy blossoms with tiny flecks of crimson in the center greeted me. I reached out gently and skimmed my finger reverently over one.

  Apple trees. In bloom.

  I walked slowly around the fifteen foot beauties all around me. The trunks were thick and sturdy, dark with maturity. The orchard must’ve been at least two decades old.

  A perfusion of white blossoms formed a cloud over my head. An old ladder parked up against a gnarled, ancient trunk called to my eyes.

  I went over and climbed up. My head burst the top of the tree, the sun hit my face, I closed my eyes and turned my face upwards to it. I soaked up its soothing warmth.

  Opening my eyes I looked around me, my breath caught. The blossoms were spread out like an uneven floor, light and floating in the sky.

  I stayed still for dozens of heartbeats too content to move. Then reluctantly I began to descend. Halfway down, I cried out and stopped. An old, dead branch had caught my elbow, scraping away some of the skin. I reached across and snapped it off with ease. I searched the tree and found dozens more.

  I smiled in grim determination. It turned out there was something here for me to do after all.

  Time passed. The sun hit the middle of the sky, then its glare began to fade. I moved from one tree to another and another. A small pile of dried leaves grew in the middle of the apple orchard.

  I started down the ladder of my current victim when I felt him standing below.

  He was waiting for me, his hands open, his eyes unreadable, “jump,” he commanded.

  I gaped, I was still ten feet in the air, “You can’t be serious!” I snapped.

  His eyes flashed hard, I swallowed. He was. “Trust me. I won’t let you fall,” the words seemed like a promise.

  What the hell! I closed my eyes and pushed off. I cried out as soon as I felt myself plummeting through air but it was only a millisecond and then I was in his arms, caught tight and hard against him.

  “Open your eyes,” he said harshly, he was panting as if he too had just been scared out of his mind.

  I opened my eyes, shocked by his tone, I glared at his hostile face, “You’re mad at me?” I cried, outrage pumped in my veins.

  “No!” he snapped, he gripped my face in his palms, grains of dirt rubbed against my cheeks, his eyes burned fiercely down into mine, “You’re too damn crazy for your own good,” he reprimanded savagely and he lunged forward and captured my lips.

  Kisses were meant to be soft, sensual, a languorous mating of mouths. Jake didn’t give a shit about that nonsense. His lips were hard, punishing as if he’d devour me in one bite.

  He took off with me, I cinched my legs around his lean waist and hung on.

  I clung to him, not caring where he was going. Apple trees danced at the edges of my senses, their light musky fragrance drugged me, pulled me under the same way that Jake’s roving lips were doing.

  I reared up into his kiss, he took all I gave and demanded more. His hands grew impatient, their strong fingers cupped and kneaded the curve of my butt.

  He stopped, wrenched his mouth away from mine, he drew in several shaky breaths, “hold on tight.”

  The backhoe loomed behind us, tall, imposing, I yelped as Jake started to climb.

  He plucked the door open and slid into the scuffed seat.

  “You can open your eyes now,” he teased.

  I cracked a lid, turned to face the window of the backhoe, I looked back at him, a silly grin on my face, “I’ve never been in one of these before.�
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  “Want me to show you how to use it?” he gritted out.

  “Uh huh,” I nodded uncertain.

  “Turn around,” he ordered gruffly.

  I did. And bumped over the tell-tale wedge rearing beneath my bottom.

  I tensed and swiveled slowly on him, he hissed, his hot breath singed the hairs at my nape and traveled like liquid silver down the delicate curve of my spine.

  “Put your hands against the roof,” he rasped.

  My thoughts scattered in all directions, “Hey, I thought you were gonna show me how to drive this thing!” But I knew instinctively that my words were merely a token protest. Suddenly I was thrust before a precipice and I couldn’t see the ground. Did I have the guts to jump off?

  He chuckled, a sound filled with a depth of intent that sent goosebumps up my bare arms, “I’m going to show you how to drive something, but it ain’t the backhoe,” his words were thick with meaning.

  A knot of anticipation tinged with a real fear twisted inside my throat, I reached for the roof of the backhoe and tried not to tremble.

  His hands snaked around my waist, caught the edge of my shirt. He pulled it up over my tummy, up my rib cage, to the underside of my breasts. He stopped. Lingered. His fingers cupped my fullness in his hard palms. He squeezed, I jerked, he eased up, then palmed them again. I gripped my lip between my teeth to block the unwary cries that built in my throat.

  His mouth met my neck, with lips, teeth, tongue, he feasted on the soft, silken flesh there. The cold steel of the roof bit into palms, I tensed against the roving heat of his mouth and coldness that was burning my palms. Mouth open, I hunted for enough air to breathe.

  Without warning, he yanked the shirt over the tip of my breasts, then my head.

  A stark image looked back at me from the window, wide eyes, open mouth, the tip of my pink tongue showed … my breasts stood up high, full, my scarlet nipples budded with the tightness of arousal. His big, brown callused hands came into view. I watched mesmerized as they slid up to the swell of my breasts, his calluses setting off every pleasure point secreted just beneath the thin softness of my skin. I shivered as his long, blunt fingers reached towards my nipples, caught them between thumb and forefinger and then his eyes flicked up to mine. They were hooded, dark with meaning. Eyes on me, he applied slow, increasing pressure to the tips.