This Is Falling (38 page)

“I came here with your brother,” she says,
stepping back, but leaving her fingers locked with mine. “And my
dad. You know, more swing analyzing,” she winks, and I’m done. I
love her; I love her so fucking hard.

“Right, well…maybe when we’re done going over
my swing we can play back that recording. You know, look for those
parts where you’re a little pitchy,” I wince, playing it off
seriously, but she just jabs me in the ribs under the catcher’s
guard, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Screw that. I wasn’t pitchy, you ass,” she
says, her eyes glaring a challenge. She wins, of course. She always
wins. I’d paint my whole damned house pink, and run up the white
flag if she asked, she has me so wrapped around her finger.

“No, you weren’t pitchy. You were perfect,” I
say, kissing her quickly one more time before I have to rejoin my
team.

“I’m not perfect, Nate. I’m a
work-in-progress. But this is me…this is me, trying,” she says, our
fingers dropping apart as I back away. I smile and turn, just
letting her think she’s right. But she’s already perfect. She was
perfect the moment I laid eyes on her—perfect for me.

THE END

Don’t miss Ty and Cass’s story in book 2 in the
Falling Series!
Here’s a little sneak peek at
YOU AND EVERYTHING AFTER
,
coming late 2014!

Prologue

Ty

Here’s the thing about a really good dream.
No matter how hard you try to stay in it—eyes closed, hands
gripping the sheets, face pressed deep into the coolness of your
pillow—you always wake up.

Always.

My dreams are always the same. I can feel the
pull of the bat in my hands, swinging it around my entire body, the
pressure on my thighs as I push my weight back on my right leg, my
hips twisting, the bat cracking against the ball. Then I’m running.
I’m really running.

I can feel it all.

Sometimes, when I can hold on long enough,
Kelly is there after I round the bases. I feel her weight in my
arms, her hands along my ribs, reaching around my back as she curls
her legs up around my body and I lift her. It’s all so effortless.
I kiss her, carry her, touch her—breathe her in.

And then it all just stops.

The buzzing of the alarm is harsh, everything
about my
now
a painful contrast against the dream I was just
forcefully removed from. I spend the next few minutes grieving. I
have to get it all out of the way here and now, because I can’t
make my goddamned useless legs anyone else’s burden. And I have to
get up. I have to pack and get my ass on a plane back to Louisiana
to make sure my brother follows through with college. I know if I
go where he goes, we’ll both make it through—through life.

He doesn’t know this, but I need him,
probably more than he needs me. But I’m the strong one. And Nate’s
the gifted one with the big heart. That’s our roles in life; I was
crowned at birth by being born first. I take care of Nate, no
matter what. Even if I’m fucked up and broken.

“Hey, you’re awake.” I barely register the
half-naked brunette exiting my bathroom. It’s all a bit of a fog.
There was a party, and there were a lot of underclassmen there, and
I remember the flirting. Huh—I must have been charming last
night.

I force my typical smile to my face and push
my body up so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in
my sheets. Reaching for the T-shirt half hanging from my dresser’s
top drawer, I indulge in a quick glance at the back of her naked
body while she’s facing the other way. She’s hot. Super hot. But
she’s not my type. Nobody is.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I hate calling chicks
that, but I have no idea what her name is. “Thanks for last night,
and I hate to be a dick, but…I gotta go,” I say as I pull myself up
to the chair and bend forward to grab my jeans.

“I know, you told me. ‘
You don’t do
girlfriends’,
” she says, making air quotes with her fingers.
Good, glad I was with it enough to have that conversation with her
before anything else. “You planning on coming back to Florida next
semester though?”

And there it is. She knows my deal, we had
the conversation—but they always want more. “Sweetheart,” I say,
her name’s still a total blank. “I’m probably never coming back to
Florida again. And if I do, it will be in my private jet as CEO.
Now, I have a flight to catch in just a few hours, and that towel
you’re in? I need to pack that. So…”

She looks like she wants to punch me, and I
don’t blame her. But I never make any promises I can’t keep. I’m on
the hook for too many promises as it is. Promises to my parents to
“be strong for my brother” and to “do something
big
despite
my disability.” I’m good at playing strong—sometimes I even believe
it myself. But other times…hell, I’m just fuckin’ tired.

“In case you change your mind,” she says,
handing me the corner of some paper she just ripped from one of my
magazines.
What the hell?
I turn it over and see her number
and, ah…that’s right—Beth.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say and toss it in the
trash right in front of her. That pretty much seals the deal, and
she’s gone seconds later, giving me the finger on her way out. I
deserve that. I probably deserve a lot worse. But Beth is better
off without me, and as selfish as it sounds, I need to keep all of
my energy in reserve to get through the things I want in
my
life. I don’t have the capacity to share with anyone else. I lost
that the moment I dove off that cliff.

Finally alone, I stop everything for a few
minutes, pushing myself to the window so I can watch everyone going
about their lives outside. Pressing my forehead to the windowpane,
I watch a couple say goodbye; the guy picks the chick up and swings
her around, and then they kiss like they’re in love. You can tell
the difference. My kisses are all about using and avoiding. They’re
great in the moment, but I don’t taste anything, except maybe vodka
or Tequila or, sometimes, smoke. I don’t feel anything, other than
my need to get off. But that kiss—the one happening two stories
down from my window—is so foreign. It’s about love and happiness
and the future.

My phone buzzes on the bed, so I snap myself
out of my torture and put on my mask. It’s Nate. “What’s up,
man?”

“Hey, I’m picking you up from the airport.
Parents are staying put,” he says. “Anything special you want since
you’re getting in late?”

“Yeah, to hit the strip club on our way
home,” I say, half kidding.

“Right, so a bunch of singles then. Got it,”
he says, without even as much as a laugh. We’re playing this
straight, like we always do. I love my brother. He’s my best
friend. But Nate’s not strong enough to bear the weight of
everything that happened to me, so I finish making plans with him
on the phone, and when I hang up, I spend the next two hours
packing the rest of my things, a job that would take anyone else
fifteen minutes.

Before I leave, I push myself back to the
window to watch my life that
should have been
happen
outside, but only for few more seconds. With the heaviest bag on my
lap and the roller behind me, I make my way to the hallway and ask
another student to help me wheel the roller to the taxi out front.
Once the door is shut and we’re on our way to the airport, I forget
it all—the dream, the scene out my window, the last four years at
Florida State; it’s all meaningless. And so is everything that’s to
come. I’m just going through the motions. You know…being
strong.

Whatever.

Chapter 1: The Last Day of Summer Ball

Ty

“Come on, princess. Get your ass up! It’s
time for workouts. Early bird gets the worm, and all that shit,” I
practically sing to my brother, whose head is buried under two
pillows. He’s still nursing himself a little after our late night.
Nate’s not used to my schedule. I’ve never needed much sleep, a
side effect of constantly waking up in pain—however real or not it
may be. I pretty much filled my undergrad years with party after
party, and I still finished with a three-point-eight GPA.

“Gahhhhhhhhh,” Nate bellows, his voice
muffled by his mattress as he throws the top pillow at me, hitting
me in the chest. “What are you, part robot? How are you not
tired?”

“I’m just that awesome. Awesome people don’t
need to sleep as much as you mere mortals,” I say, tugging the
blanket from his body to really piss him off.

“Alright! I’m up, I’m up,” he says, pushing
his fists into his eyes and rubbing like he did when he was a kid.
He’s still that kid to me—probably always will be. “The team
doesn’t even start workouts until nine anyway, asshole!”

He’s complaining, but he’s still getting
dressed. I push Nate. I push him because he takes it, which means
he secretly likes being pushed. And I push him because the kid is
seriously talented. I was good…before I got hurt. I maybe could
have played college ball, probably for some junior college back
home. But Nate, he could go all the way, as in big leagues, and
stay there—for years.

“Hey, that’s
awesome asshole
, thank
you very much. Now get your shoes on so we can get our miles in,” I
say, pushing out into the hallway to wait for him.

We go six miles every morning—Nate takes the
treadmill at the gym, and I work the hand cycle. My body, at least
what’s left of it, is something I can control, so weights and
fitness has kind of become an obsession. School has always been
easy, which is probably why the partying never seems to get in my
way. But throwing myself in the pool and making my arms pound the
water for a mile or two is a challenge—I need those challenges to
remind me that I’m still alive.

“You’re like this happy little morning elf,
and I hate you,” Nate says, throwing his workout towel at me before
turning to lock up our room.

“Dude, it’s not like I’m the one putting the
hard stuff in your hands. You know, you can get drunk on just beer,
bro. You don’t have to do shots and shit like that. That’s why
you’re always so tired in the morning,” I tell him.

Nate was a goody two-shoes in high school,
always hanging out with the same group of guys and his girlfriend.
The switch flipped when he found out she cheated on him. Thank God
I was home when that happened. He left the party, came home to me,
and we shared our first bottle of Jack. Damn, maybe it is my
fault—I should’ve started him out on something weaker.

“About that, man…I think I’m out,” he says,
pausing right before the doorway leading out of our dorm.

“Out of what?” He’s lost me on this one.

“Out…of this partying and trolling for random
chicks thing we’re doing every night. It’s…it’s just not me,” he
says, and I can’t help but laugh. “Fuck off, I knew you’d make fun
of me.”

“Sorry, sorry dude. That was just…”I have to
pause again to try to keep a straight face. Tucking my big-ass grin
into the side of my arm to hide it, I force myself to take a deep
breath—and to take my brother seriously. “I’m sorry. I guess I just
don’t see the down side.”

“You wouldn’t,” Nate says, walking ahead. My
smile’s gone at that—he’s right, I wouldn’t. And that stings a
little.

Workouts go the same, and when Nate heads off
to join the team, I put in some extra time. There’s a posting for
personal trainers that I’ve been looking at, I just haven’t had the
balls to ask about it yet. But today’s the day. There’s a cute girl
working the main counter, so I hit her up first.

“Hey, Nike!” I call her Nike because that’s
what her shirt says. She looks down and smirks and then looks back
into my eyes. My grin makes her smile and bite her lip, and I know
I’ve got her. “Sorry, didn’t know your name.”

“I’m Sage,” she says, leaning over the
counter just enough to give me a nice view of the frilly white lace
trim on her bra.

“Sage, nice name,” I smile, falling right
into my routine. “So I was checking out the posting for the
personal trainer. That filled yet?”

“Nope,” she says, her smile bigger now. “You
interested?”

“Yep,” I say, playing off of her flippant
answer. She’s oblivious though.

“Hang on, I’ll get the manager,” she says,
pushing back from the counter with a skip and heading into a back
office. I allow myself a glance at her tiny shorts and perfect ass
while she walks away.

The manager wasn’t as charmed by my dimples
and good looks, so I had to win over all six-foot-four of him with
my skills. After six years of physical rehab, I know my stuff, so
he was happy to hire me to work with freshman students who were
just looking to stay in shape.

I type Nate a text on my way back to the
dorm, making our now regular lunch plan for burgers at Sally’s. I
think it’s our dad’s fault, but Preeter boys like their routine. I
think maybe only two or three days have passed that we haven’t
eaten at least one of our three meals at our new favorite
hole-in-the-wall.

I have a good hour to kill before Nate’s
practice is done. Alone time. At least during school I can sink my
mind into something for one of my classes; I usually end up working
ahead just because I can’t stand being idle. But there’s not much
to distract me now. Even
Sports Center
is lame in August.
McConnell is not known for its football team, so like hell am I
going to get into
that.

It’s a bad idea—it always is—but my phone is
in my hand and my fingers are typing and hitting send before I can
stop myself. It’s been three weeks since I’ve talked to Kelly. She
had the baby two months ago. That was a slap in my face, a reality
dose I probably needed. That’s why I broke up with her in the first
place—so she could have these things. I did it because I loved her
so much I wanted her to have it all. But damn did it hurt seeing
her live her life and move on from me so effortlessly.