E. Blair - Falling

When he turns to walk out, not responding to me, I face Mel and say, “I’m serious. You see her in here, I want her out.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she says. “You okay?”

Switching the subject, not wanting to discuss it any further, I tell her, “Let me know if anything starts to fall through the cracks up here.”

“Did you talk to Michael?”

Being irritated as shit, I don’t want to go into this with her, so I leave it with, “Just let me know,” before walking out and calling it a night.

Can you help me run an errand?

Yeah. What do you need?

I want to go pick up some firewood but I want enough to last and it won’t fit in my trunk. Can you take me since you have the space in your jeep?

At gym now. Will you be ready in a couple of hours?

Yes. THANKS!!!

After I finish my workout with Max, I head home to grab a quick shower and a bite to eat before I leave to pick up Candace.

The night is colder than usual as I walk out to my jeep. I make the short drive through the neighborhood, and when I get to Candace’s house, I run up to her door to get her. She’s shrugging on her grey, wool coat when she answers.

“Hey,” she says with a smile when she sees me.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” I watch her slip on her black gloves as we walk out.

As I pull away from her house, she tells me, “There’s a tree lot on Holman, up from eighty-fifth street.”

“How much are we getting?”

“I dunno. Probably just a fourth of a cord,” she answers as she adjusts the vent on the dash.

“You cold?”

“Yeah,” she says, and when I laugh, she turns and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You just have no meat on you to keep you warm,” I say teasingly. She’s lean with defined muscles, but nothing that takes away from her femininity.

“Yeah, well, I can’t do much about that,” she shoots back at me.

When we get to the tree lot, Candace places her order with one of the attendants. After paying for the firewood, we find ourselves strolling the lot, looking at the Christmas trees as the guys load up the wood.

She stops in front of one of the trees and looks up at it, shivering. Reaching down, I take her hands and rub mine over hers, trying to warm her up. She seems a little apprehensive as she looks up at me, but she doesn’t back away. When she starts to drop her arms, I reach down and hold her hand. It isn’t the first time I’ve made a subtle move like this, and I hate the uncertainty of it all. Not knowing how she’s feeling about this—about us.

“I miss Jase,” she quietly says out of nowhere as she looks at the tree. She turns to me, and with an almost apologetic look, she explains with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m not used to him being gone.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“This morning,” she says and then turns back to the tree. “We should buy this.”

I look down at her, and even though she didn’t mean it literally, I like that she said ‘we.’

As she helps me unload the firewood and stack it in her garage, I ask, “What are you going to do for the next few weeks?”

“I don’t know. This is the first year that Jase isn’t here with me. We normally spend most of the break together when I’m not at my parents’.”

“How’s that going?” I ask, knowing that the last time she saw them it ended badly.

“It’s not, really,” she tells me. “I spoke with my father for the first time since Thanksgiving a few days ago, and he wants me to come over for dinner Christmas Eve.”

“You haven’t spoken with them for all this time?”

“No,” she says as we walk back out to grab some more logs.

“So, you’re going over to see them then?” I ask, already feeling like I want to keep her from going. I know I have no right to say anything, but I can’t stand the thought of her being here alone if she winds up in another fight with them.

“Well, yeah, I don’t really want to, but it’s Christmas and all. I’m just a little scared about how it will all go. The last time I saw them, we said some pretty nasty things to each other, and I have never gone this long without talking to them.”

“What are they so upset about?” I ask, confused by what this girl could possibly be doing that they don’t approve of.

“Everything,” she says as we walk into her house and into the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of wine that has already been opened and starts pouring a glass, adding, “Turns out I’ve been nothing but an embarrassing disappointment to them all along.”

Taking a beer out of the fridge, I can’t help the sigh of irritation that comes out of me. I follow her into the living room, and when we sit down on the couch, I wrap my arm around her, just wanting her to be close to me any way I can get it.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I say softly and immediately catch the slip and hope she isn’t freaked out by what I just said. But when she continues talking, I wonder if she even noticed that I called her ‘babe’ or if she did notice and is okay with it. Shit, I really hate this grey area.

“Honestly, it’s nothing that I didn’t already know deep down, but it was the first time that it actually hit me that these were their true feelings toward me.”

I feel it. It’s strong and causes a reaction I can’t control, and I act on it, demanding, “I don’t want you going over there.” She looks up at me, and there isn’t a hint on my face that I’m anything less than serious about what I just said.

“Ryan, I have to,” she defends. “They’re my parents.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want you going over there for them to treat you like shit.” My words are hard, but they come out before I can even think to soften them up for her.

She sighs and leans back into me, resting her head on my chest, and I enjoy the contact.

“I have to go,” she whispers. “It’s Christmas, and I really should be there. I’m only going for dinner. That’s all.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

“What?” she says as she pulls away and sits up.

“I don’t want you going alone, Candace,” I tell her. “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, but I’m not letting up on this.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea that you’re going. So we can argue about this, or you can just say okay.”

Her eyes are locked on mine, stunned by my tone, but the feeling that I have to shield her from getting hurt again is powerful, almost uncontrollable. It takes her a moment, and I watch her brow twitch right before she turns and slowly leans back.

“Okay,” she resolves with uncertainty.

Certain or not, I don’t care. She said ‘okay,’ and I take it a step further, pushing her when I add, “And I don’t want you spending Christmas alone either, so why don’t you come home with me. I could use the distraction at the madhouse.”

“What?! No. Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“I’m sure you will be fine, but I don’t like the thought of you sitting here alone, so you’re coming with me.” I need her to come with me. I just need her . . . with me.

“Ryan, it feels weird,” she argues.

“Why?”

“Because. It just does. I know you have a big family, and I just don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s not an intrusion,” I assure her as I move to face her. “My family isn’t like that.”

She drops her head and takes her time contemplating. Questioning. Shit, did I go too far? Did I scare her? As soon as I start to regret my words, she speaks.