Falling In (4 page)

As I shut my front door, I take another giant deep breath.
In through the nose. Out the mouth.

Shit
. I really hope I won’t regret this later. I know I should probably stay away. But I just don’t want to.

So for now, I won’t.

***

I do an hour of yoga hoping to clear my head of thoughts that shouldn’t be there.
It doesn’t help
. So, I trudge upstairs and draw a bath. As I lay there in my clawfoot tub, lavender scented bubbles rising, I close my eyes and let my mind wander. Right away, Jake’s face appears behind my eyelids. God, he’s beautiful. With what looks like a week’s worth of scruff adorning his face and dimples that are beyond lickable. And those haunting green eyes so full of pain. Although, in just a day, they seem to hold a little less.
Is that because of me?

Don’t be stupid
.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s been a fucking day, but just thinking of Jake makes my body tingle, and a sudden need develops in my core.
Lust.

Is that what I’m feeling? I cringe and think of Cole. Jesus, I feel guilty, and I haven’t even done anything wrong. But I still can’t shake this feeling that I’m betraying Cole in some way.
Fuck
. I take a few deep breaths.
No, Evie, you aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re just being friendly with a teeny side of lust
. But the lust is from afar, and inside my own head.
I’m allowed to look, right?
Just not touch. And I wouldn’t touch.
Couldn’t
. I couldn’t do that to Cole. He’s my everything. He always has been, and he always will be. I take another deep breath in.
Okay, now I’m good.
Feeling resigned, I grab a towel, hop out of the tub, and get ready to face the day…and my hot neighbor.

A few hours later, I’m at Jake’s door with a basket full of turkey, tomato, and cream cheese wraps, grapes picked and washed, and a bottle of Riesling. I decided to dress for comfort—holey boyfriend jeans, sandals, and a white, flowy top. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I take a much-needed deep breath, then knock twice.

Jake answers a few seconds later with a huge smile. He must’ve just got out of the shower because his hair still wet, water dripping onto his vintage Pixies shirt. Pairing that with cargo shorts and bare feet, he’s looking damn sexy.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
We both say hi as he steps back, allowing me to enter. I notice that he hasn’t done anything since I left. I tell him as much.

Looking almost embarrassed, he winces. “Yeah, about that—don’t be mad. I couldn’t get the whole mom porn book-thing out of my head, so I had to see for myself—”

I gasp. “You didn’t! You bought my book?” I am so completely and utterly shocked.

He bought my book
.

              “I did. I’ve been reading it all morning, actually. I almost didn’t even shower. Couldn’t seem to put it down. I finished just before you got here. It’s really good, Evangeline. You somehow managed to not only gear it towards women, but also to men. It’s fucking hot, too, not gonna lie. And it’s different. I can’t wait to start the second one, which I also bought, by the way!” he says with a wink.

I blush from the praise, still reeling from the fact that this man actually read my book and freaking likes it. I set the basket down and plop onto the couch, shaking my head as I look up to him. He seems worried that I’m pissed or something. A huge smile spreads across my face. “I can’t believe you bought my book. And you like it! You’re all right, Jake. You’re all right.”

At that, he proceeds to talk to me about the book, asking question after question while we eat and gorge ourselves on wine. He’s insightful and intelligent, and we hold the conversation easily without any lulls. He tries shamelessly to get me to reveal which brother my main character will choose in the end, but my lips are sealed.
A good writer has to keep up the suspense, after all.
 

Finally, realizing that he isn’t getting any spoilers out of me, he suggests we start on the boxes. We work quietly, but somehow it isn’t awkward. The silence is comfortable. But every time our arms or hands accidentally brush, or when I get a whiff of his scent that reminds me of spring, my body ignites, sending tiny prickles of electricity everywhere. And I mean
ev-er-y-where
. I’m very aware of his presence. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and my hands become clammy from his nearness. It’s only been a little over an hour, but I’m thinking I might need to step away before I do something I regret. I curse my stupidity for bringing wine.
Big effing mistake
.

I peek over at him as I place some books on his shelf and catch him watching me. I smile nervously and wipe the bead of sweat from my brow.
Why is it so hot in here?
I pull a hair tie from my wrist and gather my long brown curls in a haphazard knot on top of my head. Jake walks over, grabbing more books from the box I’m unloading. But before he turns back to the shelf, he stops right in front of me. Timidly, he reaches up and tucks a loose curl behind my ear. I close my eyes and inhale, butterflies fluttering away in my belly. When I open them, I meet his gaze head-on and immediately step back. He feels it, too.
Whatever it is
. I see it in his eyes. I need to leave.
Now
.

Or like ten minutes ago.

              “Um, I should go.” Grabbing my stuff quickly, I head for the door and swing it open.

              But just before I head out, I hear, “Evangeline!” On a deep breath, I turn around.

              “Thank you, for today.” He sighs, looking like he wants so say more, but doesn’t.

              I nod curtly and walk away. I can feel his eyes on me as I go, stirring feelings in me that I don’t understand. Feelings that are forbidden. The scary thing is that I
like
it.

              And that is why, from now on, I vow to keep my distance from my neighbor.

Jake

What the fuck am I doing?

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect
her
. I was fine. Okay, maybe not fine, but I was dealing. Coasting. Drifting.
Fuck
—
I don’t know what I was.
But
this
? I don’t need this. Feeling like this.

It’s been five days since she came over, and I fucked it up. I crossed a line. I know I did. But I just couldn’t help myself. She was here, and she’s so unbelievably beautiful. I had to touch that hair—that crazy, unruly, soft as fuck, curly hair.

Five days of courteous nods and tight smiles followed that single touch.
Why her?
I swear, I must’ve been a fucking Nazi in a previous life, because this one is a joke.
A sick and twisted joke
. The only good thing I’ve got going is Ben. Whom—no thanks to me, but to Evangeline and her kids—is actually smiling and laughing again.
He’s a kid again
. They did in a week what I couldn’t do in eight months—get him to heal.

I look over at their house as I sit alone on my porch. Drinking my fifth beer, I can’t help but picture her on that first day we met.
Evangeline
. She’s overenthusiastic, clever, and drop dead gorgeous. This tiny little thing. She reminds me of a fairy or pixie. Cake in hand that was fucking delicious, she strutted over here in that slinky dress that hugged every single damn curve. I watched her coming from the window and knew right then and there that she was trouble. And then she opened that sexy mouth, and I was gone. No one takes me by surprise, but she—she is bewildering. I knew with that ‘I’m not gonna say sorry because sorrys don’t change anything’ bit, she was different. She saw my pain, because she has pain, too.
A kindred spirit
. I don’t think it’s because of Cole because unfortunately, I actually like the lucky bastard. He seems to truly love her, and she loves him back. He’s just a nice guy. If I wasn’t lusting after his almost wife, I’d actually be friends with him—which just pisses me off. God, I sound like a douche right now.
A sad, whiny, pathetic douche
.

I’m about to grab another beer to further my wallowing state when I faintly hear what sounds like yelling.

Shit, is that them?
I should go inside. I really should.

But I don’t.

              “Cole, you have to understand where I’m coming from. Why don’t you get it? You know, Cole. I just can’t. I fucking
can’t
!” I hear Evangeline scream as Cole opens their screen door. She follows closely behind him. I can hear the desperation in her voice. The anguish.
What the hell are they fighting about?

              Yes, I’m a nosy bastard.

              “Where are you going? You’re just going to
leave
?”

Cole sighs. Keeping his eyes forward, he calls back, “I need to clear my head. I need space. I can’t fucking deal with this right now.” Then he disappears into the darkness.

I watch as Evangeline plops down on her porch steps. Letting a bitter “God damn it” rip from her mouth, she then rests her head between her shapely legs. I take a minute to debate on whether I should interfere or not.

I think I really only needed a second.

Within a minute, I’m already beside her.

***

                                                         
 
Evangeline

            
 
“Hey, are you okay?” Jake asks softly, but still makes me jump out of my skin.
Jesus
.

              “Shit, Jake. You scared the hell out of me!” I yell. Then wince and return to my emotional haze. Staring out into nothing, I breathe out and close my eyes, willing myself to forget for a moment that stupid effing fight with Cole. It’s the only thing we ever fight about.
Marriage.
I just don’t understand. Of all people, he should fucking get it.

              “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just out here and I kind of heard you and Cole yelling. The end of it, at least. Are you okay?” After I don’t answer again, he nudges me and whispers my name in a question, “
Evangeline
?”

              His voice sounds so tender and uneasy, I finally turn my head toward him. We’re practically nose-to-nose. I can feel his breath on my lips. He’s been drinking beer. I lift my gaze from his mouth to his eyes. I see such deep concern staring back at me, it’s etched in his face and releases off his body in waves. I take a deep breath.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth
. I’ve completely ignored this man for five whole days and here he is, sitting next to me, worried for me. I slowly feel my walls crashing down. I finally answer him.

              “No, I’m not okay. At all.” God, my voice doesn’t even sound like mine. It’s full of such despair and defeat.
I’m so confused
. I don’t know what to do, how to change how I feel. For once, since the first time I met him, this has nothing to do with Jake. But everything to do with Cole.

Cole
.

He’s the love of my life. My best friend and protector. I gave him two beautiful children, I gave him my heart, but I don’t think I can give him this. Jake and I have been sitting here for about five minutes, neither one of us breaking the silence. Just sitting and breathing, looking out into the dark street of nothingness.

It’s comforting. Despite the turmoil swirling in my mind from the events earlier, I feel oddly at ease. Jake brings that out of me. It’s like he somehow shares my pain. I felt it the first time we spoke.
Kindred spirits
. So I blame that momentary sense of peace for what I am about to tell him. “Cole and I aren’t married. But he wants to be.”

              “And you don’t?” he asks, looking at me quizzically.

              Another deep breath in. “No, I don’t.” Sensing his confusion, I explain. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Cole. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. We’ve been together for what seems like my entire life. He knows me like he knows himself. He’s always been there for me—” I close my eyes for a minute, wondering if I should I go on. Cole is one of a select few who know this story.
My story
.

              “But—?” Jake is looking at me with such intrigue, wondering where I’m going with this. I also see apprehension. He knows something big is coming, and he doesn’t push. He’s right. I know I probably shouldn’t trust him, but I do. I can’t explain it. I just feel safe around him.

              With a long sigh, I continue. “But Cole doesn’t see marriage like I do. His parents are the happiest couple I have ever known. I’ve never seen them fight.
He
hasn’t even seen them fight. They went on family vacations, got ice cream cones, and went to every baseball game Cole has ever played in. They never went a day without saying ‘I love you.’ They’re so caring and affectionate. Never once have they hurt each other or him. That’s what he believes marriage is. That’s all he knows. Sunshine and rainbows.”

I watch Jake pick at his beer label, listening. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long pull. My eyes instantly go to his mouth for the second time tonight.
I can’t help it
—it’s like a beacon, shining in my face, calling me to it. I slowly tear my gaze away from those perfect lips and catch him staring at me, an emotion in his eyes I can’t quite decipher. I shiver nonetheless. After another drink, finishing the bottle, he asks, “What do
you
think marriage is?”

That is the million dollar question
. “Disappointment. Dysfunction. Destruction.” Another deep breath. My therapist would be so proud.
Here goes nothing
. “Growing up, my life was the polar opposite of Cole’s. I think in the beginning it was different, better. Happy, maybe? I remember baking with my mom. Cookies, cakes, cupcakes, pies—anything and everything. She loved it. Always smelled sweet like sugar, with flour in her wild greying hair. We would listen to music as we mixed and rolled, then while whatever concoction was baking, we would dance in the kitchen. She liked oldies and folk. I still can’t listen to Bob Dylan without crying. I’ve tried for twenty years to remember more of her. But I can’t. All I remember is after. My dad loved her with everything. All of him. He lost himself in her. I honestly think I was born because she wanted to be a mom so badly. He just went along with it because he couldn’t deny her anything.

“So when they got into a car accident and she didn’t make it, his whole world was over. I was six and I knew nothing would ever be the same again. There would be no more happiness in the house. No more baking. Dancing. Laughing. Love. It was all gone. It went with her.” I quickly swipe a stray tear. “They were coming home from some party. They both had more to drink than they thought. He missed a stop sign, and a pickup sideswiped the passenger side. She died on impact.” I look toward Jake, waiting for him to say something.
Anything
. People always do.
Pity and sympathy. So many sorrys
. But as I look into those green eyes that I’ve pictured about a dozen times a day since that first day, I don’t see pity. I see understanding.
Empathy
.

Jake still says nothing. But then he nods, so I take that as my cue to continue. “After that night, my dad spent every waking moment drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey. He blamed himself sometimes. But mostly, he blamed
me
. They wouldn’t have needed to go out if I wasn’t there. Apparently, I was a selfish little bitch who took up all of their time and energy. At least that’s what he told me. He could barely look at me. I reminded him of her too much. Same honey brown curls and matching eyes. After the sympathy of our neighbors wore off, we were left alone. I had to learn to take care of myself. That’s when Cole came into my life. He saw this once lively girl become a lonely and lost version of herself. He became my protector. Still is. From then on out he was there.

“But when he wasn’t physically there, that was when heaven turned into hell. As I got older, it just got worse. Alcohol wasn’t enough anymore. My father moved on to coke, meth, and heroine—anything for him to escape. But it was fucking with his mind. I looked so much like her. On really bad days, he thought I
was
her.”

              “What do you mean, he thought you were her?” Jake asks, moving closer to me, hands clenching into fists. He’s
angry
. Right then I know that he knows what I mean. I place my hand on his.

              “When I was fifteen, he started talking to me like I was her. Calling me by her name, saying things you would only say to your wife. I would just brush it off and remind him I wasn’t Marie. I was
Evie
. But as months wore on, it started progressing. Innocent words and touches weren’t so innocent anymore. Goodnight kisses became kisses you shouldn’t have with your daughter. I was so ashamed and disgusted. I didn’t tell anyone, especially Cole. I was worried about what he would think of me. What he would do.

              “For six months, my father never took it further than kissing and groping—until he did. I guess he got tired of me denying him. After he finished, the drug and alcohol-induced delusion cleared. He finally heard my pleading and begging, saw the sobs wracking my body. He realized what he had done. Realized I wasn’t his wife, but his little girl. He jumped off me and fell apart. I can still hear his voice in my head sometimes. His broken voice screaming ‘no’ over and over and over again.

              “I couldn’t lay there anymore. I couldn’t take it. I stole his keys and drove straight to Cole’s. Through tears, I told him everything. An hour and a half later, with a furious Cole hell bent on revenge, we went back to my house. Once I saw those flashing red and blue lights, I knew in my gut he was gone. He’d shot himself in the head. They found him in his closet, clutching a family picture of us from when I was around four. I keep that picture in my journal. Cole doesn’t know that. It’s the only picture I have of that life. When he brings up marriage, it’s like every single horrible memory comes flooding back, all at once. I feel like I’m drowning. I know me and Cole are practically married now. I realize this. I’m just fucking scared. I don’t want to lose myself any more than I already have. And that simple fucking piece of paper symbolizes all of the hurt and betrayal and disappointment that I was forced to live with because of my parents. It’s stupid and irrational, I know, but I can’t help it. I can’t get past it.”

              Jake jumps up off the steps and forcefully says, “
No
, Evangeline. It’s not stupid—it’s how you feel. And how you feel matters. It’s honest. I know loss. I know it well. But what you went through—
fuck
.”

              He’s pacing back and forth now. I can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. Process them. Figure out what the hell to say to this broken girl. It’s a lot to effing take in. Then he stops, sits back down next to me, and a small grin appears on his face. “This wise woman said something to me recently that just stuck. She said, ‘I’m not gonna say I’m sorry, because sorrys don’t change a God damn thing.”