Before We Fall (16 page)

What.

The.

Fuck?

I let the cold shower water run over my body, over my head and my shoulders, down my hips and down to where I really need it.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I was
this
close to spilling my guts to Jacey.
This
close to inviting her into my life, telling her my secrets,
letting her in.

I blame it on the look in her eyes. The sweet, genuine, I’m-so-concerned-about-you look… and I know that she is. She genuinely cares that something has hurt me. But the problem is… she thinks she can fix it and she can’t.

No one can.

That’s the bitch of it.

I grab a towel and step out of the walk-in shower, before I head to my bed naked.

And alone.

I don’t know what to think.

Even though something felt like it changed last night, like our paradigm shifted, Dominic is back to being cool and aloof. He popped his head into my room early this morning to tell me that he was going to the studio, that he’d be back later… and to relax around the pool.

“Make yourself at home!” he’d called over his shoulder in a very polite way as he walked out.

He didn’t kiss me good-bye, he didn’t touch me at all. He stayed in the doorway where he stood, beautiful and graceful but so very distant.

It’s gorgeous here, and the infinity pool that seems to slip right over the edge of the valley is picture perfect. But there’s only so much time I can spend lounging by the pool. I’m alone and I’m restless.

So I go exploring.

I spent quite a bit of time in his library, rifling through his shelves and shelves of books. He’s got everything from the classics to Tom Clancy. None of the books show any signs of wear, so I have no clue if he actually reads them or if they just line the walls.

His large desk is sleek and modern, made from glass and ebony wood. No pictures adorn it, nothing personal at all. The middle drawer is locked, but I’m guessing it just contains checkbooks and such anyway.

The art on the walls, the many paintings and original photos, fascinate me.

I can tell the masculine abstract paintings are original, but the signatures aren’t anyone I recognize. I’m guessing that they’re local artists… that perhaps Dominic just picked out pieces that he liked because he didn’t feel the need to buy originals painted by the masters.

The kitchen is nice, but boring. Granite, steel, marble floor. It’s sterile because it’s never used. I can see that. To me, kitchens should be the hub of the house, the heart, where everyone congregates. But that’s not so here.

There are too many guest bedrooms to count, all of them lavishly decorated, just like the one I slept in last night. After he’d left me on the veranda.

I don’t know what to think about him. He’s a complete mystery, totally hot and cold. It must say something about me that I want to figure him out, that I’m not running in the opposite direction. I probably don’t want to know what it says about me, actually.

I’m needy.

I’m fucked up.

I know these things, so I push them out of my mind. I already know
me
. What I want to know now is
him
.

I stand hesitantly outside of his bedroom door. Maybe I can find some answers within, answers that he’d never tell me. Something, anything, that would make his behavior make sense.

If he doesn’t want you to know
, my conscience argues,
then you should respect that.

But… fuck you
, the devil side of my brain answers. And that’s the side I listen to. I turn the doorknob, and before I can even think about it, I’m in his room and it’s done. I’ve officially invaded his privacy.

His room is dark and quiet and decorated in masculine colors… grays and creams and blacks. His bed is enormous, and there isn’t anything odd in here, like I think I was expecting. No sex swings or whips or chains. It’s uncluttered. In fact, it’s incredibly clean. It almost seems as devoid of personal effects as a hotel room.

I feel a little guilty as I open his drawers, but I only find neatly folded clothes. The drawers all smell like cedar, like him. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent, as I eye his closet, and before I can talk myself out of it, I get to my feet and open the doors.

It’s enormous and contains a dressing room inside. A wall of shoes, loafers, and sneakers, and neatly hung slacks, jeans, shirts, and suits. It’s a closet worthy of a king. I’ve never actually seen such a thing before. I sit on a cushioned bench for a minute, just to take it all in.

Like the bedroom, his closet is neat to the point of sterility. There’s nothing here to indicate what he’s actually like. Not one thing… except for the clear fact that he has a lot of shoes and clothes.

But as I stand up, I notice the bench I’m sitting on has hinges. They’re cleverly concealed, but they’re there. Hesitantly, I open the lid and I find myself staring at a shallow black velvet box. The rest of the bench is empty.

Breathing quickly, I lift the box out and stare at it. It’s very light so it can’t contain much. I don’t waste time pondering it. I take the top off.

Inside, there’s a stack of cards and letters, banded together with a rubber band. There’s a little jewelry box, which I quickly discover is empty, and an unopened envelope with Dominic’s name on the front. It was clearly written by a woman and says simply,
Dom
.

The ink has begun to fade and there’s something hard inside, like cardboard or plastic.

I’m utterly frozen as I stare at it, because I can sense the significance of what must be inside. It was written by someone who knows him well, someone who calls him Dom.

But whatever it is, Dominic doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to see it. So he closed it away in this bench, away from the light, away from the world, away from him. But even still, even though he can’t force himself to read it, he also can’t force himself to throw it away.

I’d been wrong to come in here. Because I know that whatever I’m holding in my hands is so very intimate. It’s personal and private. And it’s not my business. But also, he’s even more of an enigma now than he was before. I don’t have any answers… I just have even more questions.

With a sigh, I stare at the stack of cards and letters wrapped with the rubber band. They’re all opened. I can see the frayed tops of them, sliced through with an opener. Surely it won’t matter if I just take a peek. Right?

I slip the rubber band off, and it’s old enough that the rubber is tacky and has lost some of its elasticity. I can tell that Dom hasn’t looked at these letters in quite a while, maybe even since he first opened them. But yet, just as the other letter, he can’t throw them away. I look at the top card. There’s a cross with sunshine pouring onto it.

With Sympathy for Your Loss.

I open it, skimming past the canned Hallmark words, skipping to the handwritten note at the bottom.

Dominic, I’m so sorry for your loss. The world has lost a light in Emma. I know this is unbearable for you now, but I’ll be praying a prayer of peace for you. I know that even without her, you’ll be able to go on and do great things. With love and deepest condolences, Jada Milnay

My breath freezes in my throat, and a brick seems to settle on my chest as I stare at the words. A realization dawns on me, cold and heavy.

Emma died.

I have to assume that she was Dominic’s girlfriend… and she died.

My fingers fly as I shuffle the rest of the cards and skim through them.

My condolences.

Heaven has gotten another angel.

My prayers are with you.

She’s in a better place.

Trite words, although what can people really say? There are no words when something tragic like that strikes.

I can hardly breathe as I get to the last card, as I stare at what lies beneath the cards, hidden at the bottom of the stack. Letters.

From Emma.

Girlish, curly handwriting fills notebook papers, with flowers and hearts doodled in the margins. My fingers shake as I read the first one.

Dom,

Thank you so much for taking me to the beach yesterday. It was the perfect day! You laughed at me so much for trying to find the perfect shells, so I enclosed a few for you. I want you to remember the day just like I remember it being: perfect.

-Em

This letter makes sense, because beneath the stack of envelopes, a smattering of tiny shells line the bottom of the box. They’re clearly old, clearly fragile, and now they make perfect sense. They were a memento of a perfect day.

My breath comes quickly as I read the next one.

I feel like I’m looking in on the lives of two lovers.

Because I am.

Dom,

Last night was amazing. I woke up this morning and you were the first thing I thought of… and you were the last thing I thought of last night before I went to sleep. I always knew you would be my first—and it was amazing. I’m so glad that we shared that together, that we can say that we were each other’s first.

I love you,

Em

My heart hurts. He took her virginity and she died.

I fly through the rest of the letters… but nothing in them gives me any clue as to what happened to her. Just random notes about high school, their mutual friends, their dates, and how much she loves Dominic. There are at least twenty of them, and they seem to span most of high school.

I know what she looked like now. Because in the last one, her senior picture is enclosed. She’s slender and blond, with shining, friendly blue eyes that smile at the camera. She was a gorgeous girl, and it’s clear that she loved life. I can see it in her eyes.

Knowing that she’s dead now makes me feel like I’m surrounded by a ghost. It gives me chills, and I quickly gather all of the letters back together, looping them with the cards within the aged rubber band. There’s only one letter left… the letter that Dominic hasn’t even opened.

As I stare at it, I notice something. The handwriting on the envelope is the same.

Emma had written the unopened letter… the one simply addressed to
Dom.

And Dominic can’t bring himself to read it.

For some reason, because I’m sentimental, because I’m soft hearted, or maybe just because I’m human, that sends a railroad spike through my heart, and the pain that I sometimes see in his eyes makes sense.

Of course it crushed him. Obviously he and Emma had been together for several years. They lost their virginity together. They loved each other. And then she died.

I’m pretty sure that a piece of Dominic died with her.

I’m sorry
, he’d told me.
But I’m fucked up.

Of course he is. At least that part makes sense now. The
why
of it, anyway. The
how
is still a mystery, but I’m not sure that it matters. Emma is dead and there’s no bringing her back. But some other things are still unanswered… like why Dominic blames Cris.

I hear a noise downstairs, a noise like a door closing, and I leap to my feet, making sure that I put everything back exactly as I found it before I rush out the door, closing it quietly behind me. I rush downstairs toward the veranda.

After dying to know more about Dominic, I’m completely conflicted now and I regret snooping through his things. Something about that black velvet box made me intensely sad and melancholy.

Emma died.

She was a huge part of his life and she died. And not only that, but he refuses to talk about her or anything remotely concerning her. I know in my heart that whatever is wrong with Dominic, whatever is broken inside of him, is because of Emma.

But as sure as I know that, I know that the secrets I found today will have to stay hidden until Dominic is ready to talk about them. If that day ever comes.

With each day that passes, I grow more and more afraid that it never will.

I find Jacey exactly where I figured she’d be. Soaking in the sun by the pool.

I stand in the doorway, watching her for a minute before I go out and wake her up. She’s got a magnificent body, stretched out like a cat, basking in the warmth. I have to smile about that, and as I do, she opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Hey,” she greets me sleepily. “How was your day? I didn’t figure you’d be home until late.”

I shrug. It fucking sucked. Amy Ashby was being her normal bitchy, entitled self, and I’d counted the minutes until the day was over. I went so far as to call Tally on the way home and tear him a new ass, telling him that I’d never work with Amy again. And he’d calmly reminded me that the public loves seeing us together… that it makes me money.

And it does, so I shut up and finished driving home in silence. But I did have a revelation.

As I crested the hill to my drive I realized that I’d been looking forward to seeing Jacey. That the anticipation of seeing her was the reason that my day dragged by so slowly.

It was a startling thought, but now that I’m here, staring down at her, it doesn’t seem so startling. Being with her feels
right.

And
that’s
a startling thought.

“It was just a day,” I tell her. “How was yours?”

“Oh, it was good. I snooped through all your stuff and swam all day. So it was just a day, too.” She stares at me and there is something in her eyes, something I can’t name, but then it’s gone and she grins.

I shake my head.

“I don’t have much for you to snoop through,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “I hate knickknack shit.”

“You’ve got that right,” she tells me with a yawn, sitting up to stretch. “This house seems almost like a hotel. There’s nothing interesting here, except for the art on the walls. But thank you for having lunch sent over to me.”

“No problem,” I answer, pulling her to her feet. Her hand is warm and moist in mine, her touch electric. I drop her fingers as soon as she’s standing. “I don’t want to hang around the house tonight. Are you up for a surprise?”

She nods immediately. “I love surprises. What should I wear?”

“Shorts and a T-shirt are fine,” I answer. “And comfortable shoes. We’re going to be gone for hours, so I hope you had a nice nap.” I smirk, but she doesn’t even flinch.

“Awesome.” She grins as she dashes inside. “I was bored.”

I sit down on the veranda, staring at the water, pleasantly surprised by her reaction. Most women would’ve wheedled and moaned, wanting to know where we were going. But not Jacey. She likes the thrill of a surprise, I guess. And she must trust me.

The idea of that slams into my gut and I push the guilty feelings away.

She doesn’t trust me with real-life stuff. She trusts me in a vague way, like she trusts that I’m not a psychopath who would take her somewhere and rape her or leave her for dead. That’s a big difference from trusting me in general.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway. But by the time the chartered helicopter lands on the front lawn and we board, Jacey’s eyes are excited and amused… and they tell me more about her than I really want to know. She does trust me… with more than I’m comfortable with.

I ignore it because that’s the only thing I can do. Instead, I focus on buckling up and signing the flight agreement for the pilot. When I turn back to Jacey, we’re taking off, and she is practically bouncing up and down like a child.

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” she tells me radiantly. “This is amazing. Where are we going?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” I tell her with a grin. “You said you liked surprises.”

“And I do.” She nods.

The helicopter shudders a bit, then wobbles as the pilot gains control of the weight balance on board. Jacey’s eyes light up and she stares downward as we fly higher and higher, lifting up and away from Los Angeles.

She chats for a while, but I can barely hold my eyes open. I’m tired from getting up so early to be on set, and comfortable in the afternoon sun that’s shining in on my seat.

Before I know it, Jacey is shaking me and squealing like a kid.

“Oh my god. It’s the Grand Canyon. I can’t believe you brought me here.”

I open my eyes to find that I’ve been asleep for over two hours and that the Grand Canyon is spread beneath us, majestic and dry and red.

“Have you ever been here?” I ask Jacey as I stretch, but I already know the answer to that. She shakes her head.

“No. I actually haven’t been many places.”

“I thought the Grand Canyon was a staple on family vacation lists,” I mention as I stare out the window. Jacey sighs.

“Probably. But my family wasn’t normal. And I didn’t go on very many family vacations. I didn’t go on
any
after my parents got divorced.”

Fuck. Like the asshole I am, I’d forgotten about her shitty childhood.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her quickly. “I forgot about that. Well, I’m glad that I get to be the first to show you this place. I know I’m weird… it’s dry and desolate, but to me, it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.”

Jacey presses her face to the glass, staring down as we fly across the cavernous gap of the canyon.

“Thank you for bringing me,” she tells me, and she sounds almost shy. “What the hell?” she exclaims as the helicopter starts its descent. “Are we landing
in
the canyon?”

I chuckle at the wonder in her voice. “I thought you might be hungry,” I explain. “The pilot is going to drop us off for a couple of hours so we can have a picnic and explore a bit, then he’ll be back to pick us up at sundown. Is that okay?”

“Holy shit.” Jacey shakes her head. “I didn’t even know that was possible. Of course it’s okay. It’s amazing.”

She reaches over and grabs my hand, holding it as the pilot settles the big bird on a flat plane of the canyon. I’m not sure if she’s nervous because of the landing, but just in case, I don’t pull away. It shudders, then comes to a stop. The pilot gets out, then helps us out, cautioning us to duck our heads. I let Jacey hold my hand until I have to shake the pilot’s.

“We’ll see you in a couple of hours,” I tell him. He nods, climbs back inside, and Jacey and I are alone with a picnic basket and a blanket.

As he flies away, the wind blows our hair away from our faces, stirring the dust around us. Jacey spins in a circle, trying to see everywhere at once.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous this place is,” she exclaims. “It’s so… desolate, like you said, but it’s so vibrant and beautiful. It’s like… it’s so tough, yet such beautiful things still grow from it. It’s like a metaphor for life. There’s beauty even in the roughest parts.”

“You think?” I raise an eyebrow as I set our stuff down, staring at the few dots of green that grace the red and dusty horizon. “Are you always so deep?”

Jacey looks at me, thoughtful and quiet, with a strange expression. “I don’t know. It’s just what this place brings to mind. It reminds me almost of the human spirit. We’re too tough to be kept down, no matter what.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me,” I tell her, and I shoot her a dubious look. “You’re getting
really
deep.”

“No deeper than you were last night,” she tosses back as she spreads the blanket and opens the basket. “And this place sort of demands it, you know? It makes me feel so small.”

“We
are
small, in the scheme of things,” I answer as I settle next to her. She sifts through the basket, pulling out tiny sandwiches, gourmet olives, and wine, and then she looks up at me.

“Now this is a picnic,” she announces, pulling out the wine and glasses. “When you do something, you do it right, Dominic.”

That’s true. I do. But I don’t answer. Instead, I pop the cork on the wine, pouring us each a glass.

She hands me a turkey sandwich and takes a drink of wine.

“Why did you arrange this?” she asks curiously as she takes a bite. “It’s awesome, but it’s so out of the blue. What made you do it?”

I don’t fucking know.

I chew my sandwich, swallow, then take another bite.

“I don’t know,” I actually admit, surprising myself. “I thought you might like it. And we’re supposed to be hanging out. We didn’t say that all of our ‘hanging out’ had to be sexual. We just said we want to have fun. And this is fun for me.”

Jacey smiles, satisfied with my answer. “It’s fun for me, too.”

We finish our meal in silence, but words aren’t really necessary. We’re surrounded by one of the Seven Wonders of the World. A conversation would mar the experience.

As we’re putting our trash back into the basket, Jacey’s fingers brush mine and she turns to me.

“I see you, you know,” she says quietly. “I know you’re different than what you want people to think.”

I pause, staring into her dark eyes. “Oh, really? And you gathered that from a trip to the Grand Canyon?”

I try to sound sarcastic, to sound flippant, but the sharpness dies on my tongue, because there’s something in her eyes that tells me that she does see into me.

She shakes her head. “No. Not from this trip. But from a lot of little things that you don’t want me to see. You know what Jake told me before I left yesterday? That someone miraculously paid Joe’s back taxes. He has no idea who, but the amount was huge… thousands of dollars. And there’s only one person I know who has that kind of money and might help Joe out.”

I freeze, refusing to look away from her. “Oh, really? That was nice of someone.”

Jacey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it was nice of someone. Why do you pretend to be such an asshole, Dominic? When I know that you aren’t, not really. You just like to pretend that you are. You’re good at pretending.”

I grab her hand, intent on squashing her delusion about me right now… and on getting that soft look out of her eyes once and for all. Every time I see it, every time I see how soft she gets when she thinks she sees something good in me, it twists my guts up and spits them out. Because she’s wrong.

“Jacey, I’m not good. I’m the opposite of good. Have you ever wondered if people are monsters inside, down where no one can see? Because I don’t have to wonder. I know that I am. Did I pay Joe’s taxes? Yeah, I did. I’ve already got a bunch of time invested in community service with him and I don’t want to have to go somewhere else. Period. I’m not a good guy, Jacey. I’m not the person that you’d like to believe. Please know that. Don’t make the mistake of romanticizing me.”

She looks at me doubtfully. “So you paid thousands of dollars of his taxes so that you wouldn’t have to get used to another supervisor? Whatever, Dominic. You can say what you want, but I don’t believe you. You helped him because you wanted to. Because you can see that he’s a decent person and you wanted to help him out. Why can’t you admit that? Why do insist on acting like such an ass?”

I shake my head. “Because I
am
an ass. You need to get used to the idea, Jacey. I’m not going to change.”

“Whatever,” she says dismissively, getting to her feet. “I don’t buy it. But I’m tired of talking about it.”

She stomps off and I sit for a second, trying to decide whether to go after her or not, when she comes stomping back.

“And another thing,” she says before she stops, her eyes widening. She freezes in place, staring at me.

“What?” I ask in confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Don’t move,” she says quietly, looking at something past my shoulder as she takes a tentative step toward me. “Don’t move a muscle, Dom.”

That’s when I hear it. An unmistakable rustle of something big behind me. The hairs lift up on the back of my neck and I stare calmly at Jacey.

“What is it? Bear?”

She shakes her head and the color drains from her face. “Mountain lion. I think. It’s a huge tan cat with really big teeth. It’s just sitting there staring at me, about five feet behind you. What do we do?”

I try to think, while at the same time I mentally distance myself from the situation so that I can stay calm. “I don’t think we play dead. That’s for a bear. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to act intimidating.”

“How the hell do we do that?” Jacey hisses, her eyes frozen on the animal behind me. “It’s pretty intimidating itself.”

“Well, first, we can’t run,” I tell her as I calmly pivot and slowly look behind me. But when I see the cat, the first thing I want to do is run.

To say it’s intimidating is the biggest understatement I’ve heard in a while.

The massive cat must weigh as much as I do, and its fangs glisten in the dying sunlight. It stares back at me with golden eyes and it looks almost bored. But then it growls, ever so slightly, enough to let me know that it’s far from bored, enough to send shivers down my spine. It’s very interested in us, even though it remains motionless.

“We can’t run, or it will think we’re prey,” I tell Jacey quietly. I take a slow step back, and it growls louder, its golden eyes watching my every movement, tracking me.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “Jacey, go. Walk away slowly and I’ll stay right here. I’ll figure something out.”

“Like hell,” Jacey answers snappishly. She waves her arms. “Get out of here, you fucking animal! Go!” Her shouts only seem to amuse the cat and it stares at her with even more interest, its long tail flicking in the air. It moves one large paw, planting it in the red dirt. I suck in a breath.

“Jacey, I don’t think that’s helping,” I point out. “It thinks you’re an appetizer.”

My heart is pounding by this point, because honestly, for the first time in as long as I remember, I don’t know what to do. All I know is I don’t want to meet my end at the end of those pointy teeth.

Jacey shouts louder, and the cat growls menacingly as she bends to pick up a large round rock, a foot in diameter. The cat opens its mouth and roars, a shrill and hoarse sound like a scream. Jacey freezes, and what happens next happens so fast that it’s a blur.

The cat roars again, standing up on its hind legs and batting at the air with its paw before it lunges toward me.

Jacey shrieks and jumps in front of me, hurling the rock at the giant animal, hitting it squarely in the face. But as she throws it, she trips and sprawls in the red dust directly in front of the giant cat.