Freedom in Falling Read online

  West took a deep breath to steel himself. No big deal. He hadn't lost a thing. They wouldn't even notice him. He was invisible, just like always. And he needed to stop listening to Charlotte. She was sixteen. What did she know? He should have stayed in his apartment where it was quiet and nothing could go wrong.

  West's eyes had a mind of their own. He looked. It felt preordained. His eyes swept harmlessly past the darker haired man who was wearing a polite yet distant smile as if he was apologizing to West for something. Then West's gaze continued on of its own accord. Completely ignoring his desire to flee. It had barely touched the gorgeous man and his stunningly green eyes before West realized he'd been seen and recognized in some indefinable way.

  The words were less than a whisper, barely parting the man's lips as they escaped, but definitely about West. A rogue thought darting out into the open like a deer breaking from the woods.

  "I wonder what he looks like on his knees."

  For a fraction of a second, the words had shape but no meaning. Like pretty glass ornaments.

  Then West walked into a vacant table with a thud.

  SHIIIIIIIIT.

  Noah hadn't planned to say what he was thinking. He hadn't even realized he had until the bookworm's eyes widened and the flat line of his mouth formed a neat little O of shock instead. Then it was too late. The deed was done. There was no way to sweep that under the figurative rug.

  The bookworm flushed. Surprise and embarrassment and maybe a little bit of yes all rolled through his expression. That wasn't the gasp of disgust. Noah had seen plenty of that over the years and he recognized it immediately. No, no. Noah could practically feel the sudden jump in the bookworm's heart rate. The barely suppressed "oh" that wanted so much to be something else. To say something else.

  The moment died a swift and awkward death as the bookworm kneecapped himself on a chair. He yelped. His book flew from his hand and slid across the floor like it had somewhere important to be. The bookworm turned so red he looked sunburned.

  Noah might have laughed. The whole thing had gone so wrong on so many levels there wasn't anything left to do but laugh.

  Then Liam's hand connected with the back of Noah's head with a loud thwack that almost dunked him face first into the mug of coffee on the table. "Apologize to the nice young man," Liam said. His stern schoolteacher voice was back, which meant he expected to be obeyed.

  "That hurt," Noah whispered, rubbing at the back of his head. That earned him angry eyes to go with the Teacher Voice.

  The bookworm had picked himself up and was turning in a circle, looking in vain for his book or maybe looking for where he'd dropped the last bits of his pride.

  The missing book had gotten almost to the door before lodging itself rather inventively under the legs of a chair. Noah slipped free of his seat and Liam's steadily worsening glare to retrieve it.

  Whatever the bookworm had been a moment ago, he was something else now that he'd collected himself again. The embarrassed red had transformed into a bad-tempered vermilion. Impossibly, the sight of it made Noah even happier than all the bashful faced glances from earlier. So, not so shy after all. That was a relief. He didn't mind shy, but kid gloves got old real fast.

  He smiled and held the book out as a peace offering. "I'm sorry," Noah said. "That was rude."

  "Yes. It was." The book was snatched from Noah's grasp. If he could have been tossed aside bodily, Noah felt sure he would have been soaring through the nearest window, but the bookworm settled for brushing past him. Their shoulders bumped roughly together and he made a small displeased growl. Like an angry kitten.

  The bell over the door jingled as he stomped out. Noah spun back to his brother with a delighted laugh. "Oh, I like him."

  Liam sighed. "Sit down. Wait for me. And don't talk to anyone else," he ordered as he headed to the counter for more coffee.

  WEST FORCED HIS LEGS to keep moving him away away away because if he didn't leave something terrible was going to happen. He wasn't sure what could be worse than the involuntary surge of oh yes please that had shut down his brain and sent him careening into a table in front of the most attractive man he'd ever seen, but there had to be something worse. There just had to be.

  He was still torn between the desire to fall to his knees with a cry of "please God" and the equally insistent desire to bludgeon the beautiful man for speaking to him that way. In public. Without warning. What if someone had heard? West's cheeks flamed again at the thought. It was twice as bad when he realized that other things were flaming along with his cheeks.

  I'm not like that, he thought with an edge of desperation.

  He wasn't.

  He wasn't.

  West threw himself into his car and slammed the door so hard that everything shook. He envisioned smacking his book against the steering wheel and the dash until it exploded into a blizzard of torn pages. But he didn't. He set it carefully on the empty seat beside him. He started the engine. He did not do any of the things he had imagined. Instead, he drove to his apartment, shivering as that single sentence replayed itself over and over in his head.

  His apartment. His sanctuary. West had moved away from home under the guise of being closer to school as soon as he was able and had never looked back. Well, only a few times. But only because of his sister. He knew exactly what he was leaving her to.

  His bland grey building sat on a quiet street, every unit boasting almost unusably tiny balconies and surprisingly good soundproofing. He never heard loud TVs or neighbors' arguments so he would have to pretend not to know about 203's snoring or infidelities when he met them in the hall or at the mailboxes. Those moments were awkward enough without replaying their latest screaming match every time you made eye contact.

  West was barely over the threshold when his phone rang. The feeling of dread it elicited only improved slightly when he saw his sister Charlotte's name on the display. He answered.

  "Please get me out of here," she hissed into his ear before he could even say hello. "They're driving me crazy."

  West sighed. "How so?"

  "No one is talking. I've barely even seen dad in three days. I just hear him come in and go out. And mom is busy with some big case or something and never comes out of her office. It's like living in a mausoleum. Get. Me. Out. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease."

  "Don't you have school tomorrow?"

  "I'll bring everything I need. Please let me stay over. I won't make a mess. I won't get in the way. I'll wash the dishes. Please. You don't know what it's like."

  He rubbed his eyes with one knuckle. He did know what it was like. All too well. That was the problem. "Okay. Just stay away from the stove this time."

  "Hey, my cooking is getting much better." When he didn't answer, she huffed. "Fine. I promise."

  "Do you need me to come pick you up?"

  "Oh God yes, you're the best brother ever. I mean it. You'll be rewarded in heaven," she said in a half intelligible rush. Rustling on the other end of the line meant she was probably already on the move. "I'll be waiting outside in fifteen minutes. You won't even have to come in." She hung up before he could say goodbye or have second thoughts.

  West stared at the screen of his phone as it went dark again. He had been looking forward to some time alone, especially after that fiasco at the coffee shop, but he didn't blame Charlotte for wanting a rescue. He loved his parents, but they were barely civil at the best of times. They didn't fight, only because they tended not to speak outside of holidays and other important functions. Reese's imminent return to their midst wouldn't help matters either. There was nowhere to go but down. Not that Reese tended to bother anyone besides West. He knew how to pick his targets for maximum effect with minimum personal detriment and he'd decided that made West the ideal target a long time ago.

  He allowed himself one long sigh before turning to leave again. His leg still hurt where he'd hit it on the chair and the steady red throb from his shin was just one more reminder of how he'd made a fool of himself. An
d for what? Because someone had shown a little interest in him? A vaguely flirtatious gesture with no strings attached? And then... oh hell.

  West flushed all over again. Something in him still clenched just a little at the thought of dropping to his knees. For that man. Worshiping him the same way he had worshiped that straw. Letting him use West's mouth and any other parts of him that he wanted.

  He could practically feel it. Taste it. A part of him wanted it so bad that it hurt. One brief release from everything but the need to feel.

  West slammed his door and locked it, but he couldn't slam the door on his thoughts. He wished that he could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Everything But More So

  Charlotte all but skipped down the front walk to meet him when West pulled up. He almost didn't recognize her. Her long curly auburn hair was tucked into the hood of the over-sized purple sweatshirt she wore. One bag hung from her shoulder and another was in her hand, the strap so long and she so short that the bag was nearly dragging on the ground. She looked like someone ready to go off the grid and disappear into the woods for a decade, not like an overnight visitor.

  "What's all this?" West shot a look at the overstuffed bags as she tossed them into his backseat and climbed into the passenger side. "I thought this was just for the one night. And what's with the hoodie? You hate those things. Are you incognito?" He tugged the hood down over her eyes.

  She batted his hand away before she fastened her seatbelt. "Let's go! Gun it! Seriously. Before someone notices us." She drummed an impatient hand on the dashboard.

  He had to lean down to see past her to the two-story brick Colonial beyond. The roll door on the attached garage was down so he couldn't see if anyone had parked inside, but all the windows of the house had the empty eyed blankness he'd long ago come to associate with home. Long hours by himself listening to the tick of the house. Ears pricked for the sound of Reese's return. "You said no one was home."

  "They're not."

  West gave her a sideways look before he shifted the car into gear. "Talk. Should I be expecting a phone call from mom tonight asking where you are?"

  "No. I left a note." Charlotte scratched her nose, a sure sign she was lying about something. He kept an eye on her the best he could while driving and waited for it to spill over. The dam broke halfway to his apartment. "Okay. So. Can I stay with you for a few extra days—"

  "No. Absolutely not. I have class."

  "You didn't let me finish! Just listen okay? I promise I'll stay out of the way. I'll do everything you ask. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to—I mean, as long as you give me a pillow and a blanket so I don't freeze—and all you have to do is tell mom you were lonely and wanted some company."

  "And I would do this because...?"

  "Because you're kind and generous and I love you?" She batted her eyelashes at him for effect. When he didn't give in, she deflated. "You're so mean to me. I want a replacement brother."

  "Too late. No returns without a receipt." A grin tugged at his lips.

  "That joke is so old. You need a new one." She frowned. "Fine. Fine. I might possibly—allegedly—be... failing chemistry, but I'm not sure and do I really even need to know chemistry anyway? No, no, I don't," she finished in a rush.

  "When does your report card come out?"

  "I don't know. Soon. Please just let me stay with you until she's calmed down." Charlotte leaned at him, wide brown eyes shining.

  Of course he caved.

  AS SOON AS WEST UNLOCKED the door to his apartment, Charlotte rushed inside like a lost puppy returning home, making a beeline directly for his room and his bed despite his warnings to stay away. Even from the entryway he heard the great whoomp of her body cannonballing into the center of his mattress.

  "I love this bed!" she cried, her voice muffled by pillows and bedding.

  West stood beside the door, keys still in hand, and was suddenly very tired.

  NOAH FIDGETED. IN FACT, he fidgeted a lot. Tonight he was fidgeting with an old coin he'd found in the change from the coffee shop, a quarter from 1962 whose profile was flattened into a dark outline with smudgy features. He'd taken an instant liking to it. The quarter felt nice in his hand so he danced it across his knuckles over and over again, back and forth and in and out, as he scrolled through thumbnails on his laptop, looking for the best shots, the best angle, the perfect interplay of light and shadow. He opened the full view of a few shots, quickly rejected them, and went back to searching.

  They weren't all shit—they couldn't be—but what he wanted wasn't there. He'd been over every file once. Twice in some cases. Nothing spoke to him.

  His phone kept buzzing with incoming calls and messages. He flinched each time. On the next, the quarter almost slipped through his fingers before he caught it and set it tumbling again.

  Noah knew who was calling and he couldn't answer yet. Not when just breathing felt like a monumental accomplishment. Everything had been fine until Liam had reminded him of the upcoming wedding. Family. Obligations. Everyone waiting for Noah to screw up. He would hate it because he always did. And he would go anyway because the alternative was letting them forget about him. Spite was enough to make that unappealing. And that tiny grain of hope. He hated that tiny grain of hope. It always got him into trouble.

  Before Noah could stop it, his hand snatched up the phone. He unlocked it.

  Two missed calls, seven missed texts. It had felt like more. It had felt like at least twice that. The calls were what he expected, one from his mother, one from Liam. Mom left a voicemail. Liam didn't. Liam never left messages. Instead, he had opted to text four times when Noah hadn't answered.

  The last three texts were from friends asking if he wanted to hang out.

  He did.

  But he didn't.

  Noah stared at the screen, chewing on his lip, quarter no longer moving, just cradled in the warmth of his palm, a silent companion.

  Where? he texted back. He was already rethinking the unspoken yes that went with the question.

  Then he glanced up and realized that he was sitting in the dark with only the blazing screen on his laptop to light his narrow little apartment. The room was a big shadow swallowing him up. One gulp and down he would go. He nudged his headphones down around his neck and stretched his arms up until they ached, tilting his head from side to side. Something popped.

  He'd lost track of time again. It had been light when he first sat down, barely past noon. And then... it had gone away. He'd started sorting through files and once he started he couldn't stop. Not until he was done. The travel cup of coffee he'd brought still sat where he'd left it. Room temperature and half full.

  The phone chimed with a new text. This time he didn't jump.

  The usual?

  "Sure. Why the fuck not?" he said even though there was no one to hear him.

  "THE USUAL" WAS A BAR Noah and his friends had been hitting ever since they were legal and could drink without getting creative about it. It always hummed with activity from the local college, the rhythm broken up on the weekends by concert going crowds looking for someplace to make the night last a little longer. Noise, tasteful neon beer signs, and a steady supply of people in crop tops completed the ambiance.

  Noah leaned back in the booth and let his friends Bowen, Ames, and Suzanne talk over him. Normally he spent his time eyeing the crowd with everyone else, but tonight his head was pounding so hard everything around him vibrated and distorted. He couldn't remember if he had eaten earlier. A handful of Suze's fries probably didn't count. Drinking on an empty stomach was maybe not his most brilliant idea. He made another grab for a fry hanging over the side of the basket.

  Suzanne slapped his hand away. "Get your own, mooch."

  "I'll go right out and do that," Noah mumbled back, head lolling as he chewed his pilfered fry.

  "You look like shit, man," Ames said. "Don't you dare puke on me."

  Noah didn't bother to dignify that with a response. If he was going to p
uke he would be the last to know, but as it stood he had no current plans to do any such thing. For one, that meant doing laundry and he wasn't sure he had the money to pay for it. The 1962 quarter didn't count. It had become his new best friend, riding along in the front pocket of his jeans. He wasn't going to spend it on something like laundry just because he couldn't hold his liquor.

  Noah pinched his lips shut before he made himself a liar. His head dropped back against the seat to wait for the room to stop wobbling.

  They were talking about something that should've made sense to him, but he kept losing the thread of things, all of it slipping away like little silver fish in shallow water. Dart dart dart. Liquid silver against the ripples of the sandy bottom. He'd always been fascinated by them when Liam took him fishing. They never caught anything, but that wasn't the point. The point was the journey and the quiet and waiting for that inevitable moment when Liam tripped and almost fell into the water. Sometimes it wasn't almost.

  "I want to go for a swim," Noah blurted.

  They all cracked up at the same time. "Dude. It's January."

  "So?" Noah straightened up, head spinning so fast he didn't know which way he was looking. "I can go for a swim. The lake is right there. Somewhere." He pointed in the direction that he thought it was. Or where it should have been. He could barely remember where the fucking door was just then.

  "Yeah, sure, go for a swim and drown your drunk ass," snickered Bowen.

  "I could do it," Noah insisted. "I could swim to Michigan."

  Someone set a glass of water in front of him. Ames, he thought. They were thoughtful like that. "Drink that and shut up."

  "It would be better than going to Eli's wedding. You don't know what it's like. They're all so... so..." Noah waved a hand and almost hit himself in the face. "I can't pretend to be the happy straight bro for five hours."