The Girl Who Fell (24 page)

I bite my lip as I peel aside the blue lace cups. I'm still self-conscious about my body, this new bra, the way he watches me like an eagle hunting prey. The way my flesh rises to the cold. But he accepts me with his eyes, the way his gaze lingers.

Alec leans back, his breath catching. “You”—he swallows hard—“look amazing.”

My breath buckles. I want to be beautiful, sexy, all the things he wants. But I need him in order to be any of these things.

He strokes my face and then my chest. I could stay like this for years. My breath trembles. Above me, a maze of early stars blaze white and I am alive.

“Tell me.” He nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck. “Tell me how much you like being here with me.”

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” And it is the truth, even if I am petrified of all that could happen between us out here, under this blanket of moonlight.

He kisses me and I fold into him. His strong arm tucks me under the covers where we become heated, together. Outside our blanket, the world is another place, not our place, something separate from our two entwined bodies.

He raises my arms. One by one, he pins them onto the cold pillow. He kisses me deeply, warmly, his entire body coiled, inseparable from mine. My body becomes liquid beneath him, melting into his touch. I disappear in his breath, his heat, his fingers tracing my every inch. And then there is the quick rustle of plastic and then . . . an unexpected pinch on the inside of my flesh.

My body stiffens. My brain fires with fear. I can't do this. I don't know how to do this. Am I ready to do this?

He breathes calm into my ear. “Shh, it's okay, Zephyr. You can trust me.”

But I can't. Not now that this is
the moment
. My mind swirls with every sex conversation I've ever had with Lizzie, every
Cosmopolitan
article I blushed over. And I don't feel prepared for what is happening
right now
. My hips speak instinctively, twisting away from his. I close my legs.

He pulls back, strokes my hair away from my face. “I love you, Zephyr.”

He kisses my forehead. “I want . . .”

He kisses my nose . . . “to feel . . .”

He kisses my lips . . . “all of you.”

My heart catapults.

“Don't you love me?”

A rasp. “Of course.” I force my body to relax.

“Then be with me, Zephyr Doyle.”

“I'm scared.”

“There's nothing to be afraid of.” Alec kisses me and my pulse quickens. “You know I'd never hurt you, right?”

“I do. Of course.”

Alec moves slowly on top of me and I trace my fingers along the hard ridges of his back. I watch and listen, trying to capture every sound and smell. The way a few defiant leaves rustle on the limbs above us. Alec's mouth hot and cavernous. The wink of starlight above. The pressure inside me building.

Alec kisses the cove of my neck. I shake off the fear that's rising in my brain and listen to what my body wants, what my brain trusts. The way my heart beats:
Al. Ec. Al. Ec. Al. Ec.

His eyes meet mine. “Are you okay?” His words are whisper soft, a private language.

Am I? It's hard to know in this cyclone of nerves and fear and love. My tongue answers when my brain can't. “I am.” I wrap my arms tightly around him, my thighs pulling his hips closer. Slowly. Slowly.
Slowly.
He watches my face as he fumbles under the covers. For an instant, I think he will change his mind, tell me he can't, that he doesn't really love me. That none of this is real.

Until I feel that pinch, stronger this time. My entire body clenches and I gasp.

The pain grows. Becomes excruciating. A knife of lightning across a still, dark sky.

“You are perfect.” Alec's gaze hangs distant and fogged under his flopping bangs. Then he moves gently. Joins me. Fills me. As if disparate parts of me connect as one whole for the first time. Alec kisses my lips. We lie interconnected like that for a minute, an eternity.

He and I moving together, in a new kind of forever.

“I need you, Zephyr. I want you at Michigan. With me always.”

I need you too,
I want to say, but words are beyond reach as I fall into his need . . .

the motion of his body . . .

the promise of us. . . .

•  •  •

Later that night, I lie in bed not moving. From the record player, Joan Armatrading's honey-slick voice bleeds love into the very air around me.

Oh the feeling, when you're reeling.

There's more beauty in you than anyone.

The memory of Alec cocoons me. Protected. Secret. Mine.

I don't call Lizzie. Trying to put tonight into words would erase its magic.

I hold tight to Finn, tell him the way my heart has found wings.

Before I close my eyes, I get a text from Alec:
In ur dreams tonight, imagine me with u.

Me:
As if I have a choice.

My eyes draw heavy while staring at the ceiling, trying to press every minute of tonight into a sacred scrapbook of memory.

Just before I fall asleep the air shifts slightly, as if it also knows that everything has changed.

I wake in someone else's skin. Or mine, but different.

Finn lies spooned into me, his breath steady and so beautifully normal sounding. He stirs when I sit up. I watch him jump down to wait at my door like he'd never been sick at all. I let him out and he pads happily down the hall as I make my way to the bathroom.

In the shower, the spray hits me like Alec's touch, awakening me everywhere. I swab my neck gently with my loofah sponge because I don't want to fully wash him from my skin.

When I make it to the kitchen, Mom's hunched over a cup of coffee at the island. I register her spacey stare, how it's not even slightly focused on the newspaper opened before her. Then I panic. I hadn't thought about Mom. Can she smell the sex on me? Does it linger on your skin like scented body wash? Just as I'm about to pivot on my heels and bolt back to my room, Mom looks up.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

“Morning.” I wonder if my voice is different now too, if she can
hear
some indication of sex.

She picks at the edge of the newspaper.

“You okay?” She doesn't look so okay.

“I just got off the phone with Rachel.”

The room stills around us. The windows are shut tight against the winter so there is no breeze, no rustle of leaves, no birdsong. I am trapped in the airless space of my selfishness. I've barely even thought about Gregg. “Is Gregg all right?”

“Rachel called to say that he's home, resting. I was hoping you and I could go visit him later today.” Mom's worry flinches her shoulders.

“Did she tell you he's going to be fine?”

“She did. It just hit too close to home. I couldn't help thinking what if it had been you.”

“It wasn't. I'm fine. Gregg's fine. Rachel will be fine once Gregg's back at school.” I'm not certain if my words are aimed at reassuring her or appeasing my guilt.

“When do you want to go?” I fill a bowl with Cheerios. “If we head over around lunch we could grab him a Slice Special from Fernalds. It's named after him. Because it's his favorite.”

She closes the newspaper. “I'd like that. And we can pick up some penny candy for the little ones.”

“Sure. Give them all a sugar high. Rachel will love you for that.”

Mom winks. “What kind of aunt would I be if I didn't spoil the girls?”

I open the fridge, grab some milk. “A lame one.”

“Exactly. I can't have that.”

I bring the milk to the table but don't pour it. “So, does Dad know about Gregg?”

Mom tries to hide her surprise, but I can tell I've caught her off guard. “He does. I told him last night. Why?”

I'm relieved. This feels like something Dad should know about, even if I couldn't make the call. “I guess I'm just wondering how much you and he talk or whatever.”

“We talk a lot, Zephyr. Really talk. In a way we didn't for a long, long time.”

“That's good. I mean, if that's what you want.”

She reaches for my hand, blankets it with hers. “I think I'm still trying to figure out what I want. Parents don't have all the answers, you know. Just because we're older doesn't mean we're always wiser.”

“But you forgive him?”

She leans back in her chair, contemplates. “I think forgiveness is a process. I'm not there yet. I don't think I'll ever be okay with the way he left, that ridiculous letter and his disappearing.”

“But you let him back in.”

“I did. Because I love him, Zephyr. I always have. And we both made mistakes. Some big. Some smaller. I'm just trying to figure all this out, same as you.” She cascades her finger over the ridges of mine. “One thing you learn by the time you're my age is that life is made in the mistakes. It's impossible to get it right all of the time. And in a weird way, I admire your father for doing what needed to be done.”

“How can you admire him?”

“I know it sounds crazy. Believe me. But the split has allowed us to come together even stronger. Your dad and I let a lot of things get between us, push us apart. When he was here, I didn't want to see it. When he was gone, it was all I could see.”

Mom's face softens as she talks, veils with peace. “I didn't know.”

“We haven't enjoyed each other's company like this in a long time.”

“I think it's great you're happy, Mom.”

“And I want that for you.”

“I think maybe I have more questions than you did. I want to know everything. What he felt like before he left and for how long. How many years he'd been planning this.”

Mom laughs. “I'm still not done asking him questions.”

“Really?”

“Your father spent our first few meet-ups like a witness on the stand.”

I'm surprised by my laugh and the connection I feel with Mom after knowing she badgered him the way my mind's been badgering me. “I've been thinking of calling him.” Since my fight with Alec showed me that forgiveness can be a gift.

“I think I've made my argument clear on the subject of regret.” She taps my hand, stands. “And it's okay to give him hell, Zephyr, if that's what you need. Tear into him, yell at him. Whatever works. Just don't keep it bottled up. That's how your dad and I got here in the first place.”

“I'll think about it.”

Mom pushes in her chair. “Clock's tickin'.”

“But no pressure, right?”

“Not from me.”

•  •  •

Gregg doesn't even appear an inch sick when Mom and I enter his room. His face glows. He's embroiled in a game of NHL15 and his sister Courtney looks relieved to have the interruption. She throws down her defeated controller.

“I'm going to get snacks,” Courtney tells him. “You cheat anyway.”

Gregg laughs. “Six girls in this house and I get exactly zero sympathy.”

Mom goes to his bedside, kisses him on the cheek. “It's nice to see you looking so healthy.”

“Don't tell my mom, but she's making a way bigger fuss about this than is necessary. I feel fine.”

“I think your mother has the right to be scared about a concussion.”

“Athletes get them all the time.”

“Yes, and their moms worry all the time.”

“Fair enough,” Gregg tells Mom.

“Well, I'm glad I came. I can see you're on the mend and I'm no good at video games, so I'll leave you two to catch up.”

When Mom leaves the room I climb onto the end of Gregg's king-size bed and sit cross-legged.

Gregg nods toward the bag in my hand. “That smells suspiciously awesome.”

I hand it over and he sniffs deeply. “A hand-delivered Slice Special? Why Zephyr Doyle, whatever did I do to deserve your attentions?”

I flick him in the leg. “When are they springing you?”

“Doc says I can go back to school tomorrow, but no hockey for at least a week.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I have these headaches that come and go. She tells me that's normal.”

“Still.”

“I know. How will my adoring fans cope?”

I flick him harder and he rubs the spot.

“Seriously though. What's with all the attention? Is your presence here Alec-sanctioned?”

“Don't.”

“It's not my fault the kid's got issues.”

“We all have issues.”

“Too right. So I can't bag on him for being a jealous ass?”

“No, you most certainly cannot. You may have been too doped up to remember, but Alec was the one who brought me to the hospital.”

“The last thing I want to hear is how he's your knight in shining armor.”

I blush. “No armor, just shining.”

He studies me then. “What's different? You're looking very girlie in this moment.”

My smile spreads until I think maybe he can see the sex on me.

“Don't tell me you really like this guy.”

“Would that be so wrong?”

“Yes. I thought you coming here to fawn over me was a sign that you were ready to declare your love for me.”

“Funny.”

He laughs. “I wasn't trying to be funny.”

“And yet here you are, being hilarious.”

“Hmm. Deflection. Nice technique.” He nods toward his bedside table. “Rummy?”

“Sure. If you can take an ass kicking in your condition.”

“Hah! Now look who's the funny one.”

I hand Gregg the cards and he shows off with a fanning Vegas shuffle. “Have you had many visitors?”

“A few. All girls, of course.”

I smile. “Of course.”

“Has Lani been around?”

“Look at you all curious about my love life.”