Destined To Fall (17 page)

I look up from my desk when there’s a knock on the door. My assistant opens
it, and in walks Jessa. Her fiery red hair is tied up, her make-up is overdone,
and the dress she’s wearing reveals a little too much chest than necessary.
Jessa smirks, and saunters towards me. I used to find her attractive, and only
God knows why. She’s too skinny, her voice can crack a beer bottle, and her
sense of entitlement aren’t attractive qualities at all. I stand, and after dismissing my assistant, walk around my desk to meet Jessa.
“Hi baby,” she purrs. “You miss me already?” Her hand reaches for my arm,
and I grab her wrist. “Don’t” I growl.
“Oh, touchy touchy, Kyler. Need me to fix that for you baby?”
“Stop!”

Jessa flinches, and drops her hand. “God, Kyler, what the hell is your
problem?”
“You are. Tell me what the fuck happened last night, Jessa.”
She grins, and nothing about it is polite. It’s malicious, calculating and venomous. I wish I’d never gotten myself involved with this woman. “Would
you like me to give you a play-by-play, or would you like me to reenact it for
you?” She goes to touch my face but I step away, rather than smacking her
hand away.
“I don’t have time for games,” I snarl. “Tell me the truth, or I swear to
God…” I let my words hang in the air. I have enough dirt on Jessa to ruin
her social reputation and she knows it.
“You won’t do anything,” Jessa says with a cackle.
I step up to her again, and get right in her face. “Oh yeah? Try me Jessa, I
dare you. I’m in a really pissy mood, so push me and see what I’ll do.” I’ve
never threatened a woman before, but my rage wins over any guilt I should
feel.
Jessa straightens her shoulders. “I told you you were mine, and I had to make
sure your little ‘friend’ knew it.”
“We fucked, Jessa, that’s it. It wasn’t more than that, and you know it.”
“NO!” Jessa shrieks. “You love me!”
I throw my head back and an empty laugh escapes my mouth. This woman is
crazy.
“No,” I reply. “I don’t. I never have and I never will.” I level my glare on Jessa.
“Your little stunt has probably ruined the best thing to ever happen to me,
and I want to know how you did it. Now.”
“Why is she so important to you?” Jessa asks. Her voice is laced with disgust.
“Because I love her, Jessa, goddamit, and I’m in love with her. So tell me what
the fuck happened last night!” I roar in response. I’ve had about as much as I
can handle and all I want to do now is see Cassey.
Jessa’s eyes widen, and I’m not sure whether it’s out of shock or fear. “Ok fine!
I saw you at the bar last night, and after you’d had a few drinks, I slipped
something into your last beer. I followed you home, and after you stripped
naked, I sent a text from your phone, and climbed into bed with you.”
“You did what? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I bang my fist on my
desk, and Jessa jumps.
Before she can say anything else, I yell, “Get.The Fuck. Out. Of My. Office!”
Jessa stumbles back as if I’ve hit her across the face, and runs out of my office
crying. I could care less because those tears are as fake as her personality. All
I care about is getting Cassey to hear me out. Quinn asked me to give Cassey
time, and I will, but not long. I won’t lose her. Not ever.

My phone vibrates for the thousandth time. It’s probably Kyler, but I haven’t
bothered to check. Instead, I have Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” streaming
through my speakers in my office while I go through some unsolicited manuscripts. It’s the only way I can keep my mind busy, and off Kyler. I haven’t
seen him in a week, and as much as I’d like to reason with myself that it’s
been easy, I’m lying to myself. I miss him. Fiercely. He became my drug of
choice, and I’d gone so far out on a limb with my feelings that I didn’t know
I was out there alone. The first two nights without him, I decided to sleep in
the guest bedroom. My sheets still smelled like Kyler, and I didn’t want to
wash them. That would’ve felt like I’m erasing our brief yet incredible time
together and I wasn’t ready to let it go yet.
But then the anger set in, and I threw the sheets away like a real girl. I told
myself that was me walking away, and moving on from Kyler, despite my
body craving him with every fiber. I was determined to block it out, switch
it off. I should thank my parents for that. They might’ve been crappy people,
but at least they took the time to show me how to live with hurt.
I decide to brave it out and check my phone, frowning when I see it’s a
Georgia area code. My feelings bounce incessantly between disappointment
that it’s not Kyler’s number I’m seeing, and anger because it’s probably my
parents calling for money. Again. It’s like they knew I was talking about
them. I sigh, and against my better judgment, return the call. It rings a few
times, but I wait it out because I need to get this over with. For good.
“Cassey?” My fathers gruff, one-box-a-day voice comes through the phone.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet flatly.
It’s impossible to say it with endearment, because all the man is my sperm
donor. He hasn’t once earned the privilege of being referred to as more.
“I’ve been trying to call you for days,” he says. I hear him cough, and wheeze
in the background, a sound I became very accustomed to early on in my life.
Only now, it’s worse.
“Sorry,” I reply. “I’ve been busy at work. What do you want, Dad?”
“Your mamma and I are in a spot of trouble kiddo, we need your help.”
“I already told her I don’t have the kind of money you’re asking for, and never
to call me again,” I say, completely exasperated with the conversation already.
“But kiddo, we really need you. Think about everything we’ve done for you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, and calm the rage I feel clawing its way out
from the inside of my chest. “Everything you’ve done for me?” I almost yell.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t done anything for me since I was
five.”
“Don’t be that way, sweetheart. It wasn’t that bad.”
I inhale sharply. “No, you’re right, dad, it was worse. You left me to fend for
myself for most of my life. You only ever cared about getting your next hit,
and when you couldn’t, I became your punching bag.”
Hot tears build behind my eyes as memories from my childhood play
through my mind like a lifetime movie.
My father sucks in a breath, but doesn’t say anything for a beat. “I know
we’ve made mistakes, but you’re our only option. Please, Cassey, we really
need money. Just give it to us, we’re your parents.”
That was the last straw. I was a minute away from caving, just to get rid of
these people who called themselves my parents.
“What you’re asking for is all I have,” I say, swallowing the lump in my
throat.
“You’ll make it back,” my Father replies, his voice perking up.
“I need a few days to get it out,” I lie. If I can hold them off for a few more
days, I can figure out what to do. There’s no way I can give them everything I
have.
I hear my father umm and ahh on the other end of the line, rather begrudgingly, before he replies. “Okay, I will call you in a few days.”
The line goes dead, and I stare down at my phone, shocked. I shouldn’t be.
That’s the nicest conversation I’ve ever had with my father. And that makes
my decision not to help him, or my mother, so much easier.
I just have to figure out how. Having had enough of everything, I pack my
stuff up and head home. My emotions are all over the place, and work is the
last place I want to be. I could use a night out, so I send Quinn a text:

A second later my phone rings, and I answer.
“Hey Quinny.”
“Hey Cass. What’s up?”
“I’m going home now. You?”
“Me too. I can be at your place in thirty if you want?”
“Are we going out?”
“Yes, I could use a night on the town,” Quinn replies.
“Great, see you in a bit.”
“See you soon.”

We ignore the protests from the people waiting in mile-long line, and greet
the Bouncers. They lift the red velvet rope and let us in. The thumping music
fills the giant space and we walk straight towards the bar.
“What’s your poison, ladies?” A sexy, blonde haired bartender meets us at the
bar.
“Two tequila shots,” Quinn replies. The bartender grins and pours the clear
liquid into two shot glasses, giving us some lime slices and salt on the side.
Quinn and I hoist the glasses up. “What are we toasting?” I ask Quinn.
Her lips purse, and her brows scrunch in thought. “To assholes, and great
sex.”
I throw my head back and laugh, feeling a lightness settle over me that has
been absent since I walked out of Kyler’s apartment. “To assholes, and great
sex,” I repeat.

We tip the glasses, and I savor the burn from the alcohol as it warms my
belly.
Quinn hits the bar with her shot glass, and orders another round. “You can’t
walk on one leg,” she reasons.
After throwing back the second shot, we push our way through the crowd,
until we’re in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people that bump
and grind to the music. We start moving with the ocean of swaying bodies,
and soon the world and all my worries melt away.
“I need some water,” Quinn yells over the noise.
“I’ll wait for you here,” I yell back.
I watch as her retreating figure disappears, and start moving to the music
again. Two songs later, I feel two hands wrap around my waist, and a body
pressed against my back. At first I freeze, unsure of myself, but then I start
dancing. I look at the hands cradling my hips, and they suddenly feel wrong.
My heart drops, because they’re not Kyler’s hands, and the person behind me
doesn’t smell like him either.
As if reading my mind, the hands disappear, followed by a “what the fuck,
man?”. I spin, searching for the source of the commotion, and almost trip
when my eyes land on Kyler. My breath hitches at the sight of him, and then
I frown. He looks sexy as sin in his dark jeans and black shirt, his hair a ruffled mess, but why is he here and why is he dragging some random guy away
from me? He grabs the stranger by the shirt, and after whispering something
in his ear, Kyler shoves him back into the crowd. He turns, and when his
hard gaze lands on me, I shiver.
God, I’ve missed those eyes. But then I remember what he looks like with
someone else in his bed, and all excitement and longing I feel evaporates.
I stalk over to him, meeting him half way. “What are you doing?” I yell.
“He had his hands on you!” Kyler yells back. We’re causing a scene, but I
don’t care.
“Maybe I wanted his hands on me!”
Kyler growls, and grabs my arm. I try slap it away, but his grip tightens as he
drags me through the crowd. “Let go of me!” I scream.
Kyler spins quickly and bends, throwing me over his shoulder. I hear a few
guys hoot and holler and glower, even though they can’t see me. My hands
ball into fists, and I start hitting his back. “Put.Me.Down!”
Kyler ignores me, and walks through a door that leads into a private room
normally reserved for private parties. He looks the door, and then puts me
down.
I take a big step back, my hands on my hips, and glare angrily. “What is
wrong with you? You’re acting like a complete caveman!”
Kyler returns my angry glare. “That asshole had his hands on you,” he replies
through gritted teeth.
“The only asshole in this club is YOU!” I snap.
Kyler goes quiet, and pulls his hands through his hair. “Cassey,” he murmurs,
his voice sullen.
“No! You don’t get to do this to me, Kyler. You don’t get to decide who I
dance with. I’m not yours!”
“But I’m yours!” Kyler yells back.
And there it is, the inevitable impasse. That moment when two people who
love each other, but are too stubborn to say it. Instead, Kyler slept with someone else, and I wallowed in self-pity for three days.
I feel the burn in my eyes, and silently pray that I don’t cry in front of him. I
wouldn’t show him that he’s my weakness.
I look down, and shake my head. “No, Kyler, you’re not. You never were.” My
voice is as small and as vulnerable as I feel.
“I need to explain,” he says. “Nothing happened with me and Jessa.”
I snort. “Yeah, because walking in on you, naked in bed with her is definitely
nothing
.”
Kyler takes a step closer and I follow suit with one step back. My back hits
the wall, and Kyler takes the opportunity to cage me in, resting his forearms
on the wall beside my head.
“Nothing happened,” he says. His voice is low, and hard. It ignites the fire in
my belly, and I silently curse my body for responding to him and his closeness after what he did.
“Liar,” I breathe out. “I saw you.” My throat tightens. Replaying what I
walked in on isn’t doing me any good.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Kyler whispers, his hot breath hitting my face
as he presses his forehead to mine. “But nothing happened, I swear to you
Cass.”
“Tell me the truth,” I say. “What really happened?” I want to know, and part
of me thinks Kyler might actually be capable of telling me the truth.
I want to believe that he cares enough to be honest with me, even if it’s going
to rip me to shreds.

“Jessa saw me at the bar, and slipped something into my beer. I don’t remember anything after that, but when I confronted her, she told me she followed me home, and climbed into bed with me after she sent that text from
my phone.”
I look into Kyler’s eyes, and search his face for any sign of dishonesty. I visibly relax when I don’t find it anywhere. While it’s a relief, I realize that what
went wrong between me and Kyler is so much bigger than what Jessa did.
I fell in love with him, a man I willingly agreed to have an exclusive nostrings-attached relationship with. I should’ve known there is no such thing.
The severity of the realization hits my chest, knocking the wind out of my
lungs.
“Please say something,” Kyler pleads. “Tell me you believe me.”
“I don’t know,” I reply quietly.
“Please.”
Kyler leans in and slowly presses his lips to mine, gently at first, and then
applying more pressure.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and they traitorously open for him.
His tongue dives in, and traces the contours of mine, seducing my mouth.
His right hand cups my neck, and tilts my head up, deepening the kiss, and
his left hand presses my lower back.
I feel the bulge below the zipper of his jeans against my stomach, and can’t
help but whimper. My hands claw at his shirt, and pull it into my fists. He
lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. The hardness of his jeans
rub against my centre, and I moan into his mouth. He presses his hips into
mine, and I feel the spark between my legs. I want this. I want him. But
knowing that my lust is more than just lust makes me stop.
“Kyler,” I breathe out harshly. “Put me down, please.”
He pulls away, and gives me a confused gaze. I slide down his body.
“I can’t do this,” I choke out, swallowing back an onslaught of hot, unwelcome tears. I push Kyler back, and step aside to get around him. I walk towards the door.