Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1) Page 5

  God, I’ve missed them.

  “Cole.” My mom utters my name, tears rolling down her cheeks and time suddenly moves forward. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to me. I close my eyes and bask in the comfort of her arms. Something I desperately need right now.

  Fucking tears won’t quit.

  When I open my eyes again, I meet dad’s gray ones, filled with so much emotion. He’s clearly trying to hide the pain and grief of losing his child by smiling. It doesn’t work. His eyes swimming in tears betray him.

  Mom pulls back, holding me at arm’s length as she studies me, her gaze lingering on the tattoos. She’s sobbing freely as she slides her hands up to cup my face. Dad places his hands on Mom’s shoulders, and gently pushes her aside, as if she were a fragile china doll. There was a point I thought they’d end up filing for divorce. I’m glad that things have gotten better since I left Florida. He still handles her like she is the most precious thing in the world. The gentleness fades as he comes at me with all of his two hundred pounds of strength. I’m bigger, though, and heavier. About twenty pounds heavier so I absorb the impact and reciprocate the embrace. I might have toughened up in prison. I might be able to face the world’s fiercest storm. But when it comes to these two people standing in front of me, I feel like I’m five all over again, protected by their love and strength.

  How have I managed to go so long without this?

  Dad leans back to stare at me.

  “Son.” I read the word on his lips.

  I swallow the ball of tension threatening to rip my throat open, and look at the ceiling, blinking back the tears. When I’m sure I can handle myself without clutching my mom’s skirt and hiding behind it like a three-year-old, I return my parents’ gaze.

  “Did you see him?” Mom signs, automatically slipping into ASL instead of speaking. This was a habit of ours.

  I nod once. “I spoke to the doctor too.”

  Her gaze roams my face as if she’s looking for answers. Her thumb brushes the tear rolling down my cheek and then she drops her hand. “We’ve missed you so much. Don’t ever shut us out like that again, Cole. Do you know how worried we were about you? Nine years without a word. . .”

  She breaks down and clutches onto my shirt, crying into my chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I say, pressing my lips to her hair and meeting my dad’s angry gaze above my mom’s head. And right here, I know it was very wrong of me to shut them out. I had let my emotions take over and chose to leave everything I knew behind, including the people who loved me the most.

  Who does that? I’m a selfish, son of a bitch.

  God.

  “Let’s not do this here,” my father says, gently rubbing my mom’s shoulder. She frees herself from my arm, opens her handbag and rummages inside for something. Dad, the ever-loving gentleman he is, covers her trembling hand with his and tucks a white cloth handkerchief in it. Then he pulls Mom into his arms and gives her a kiss on her forehead.

  Pain cuts through my chest. I remember when I was an enthusiastic nineteen-year-old boy full of romantic dreams, which Nor had stealthily injected in me. When my life was so bleak, I hoped Nor and I would mirror my mom and dad. They have a kind of love that breaks down dams and lasts forever. Nor and I had that. But it obviously wasn’t supposed to last forever.

  “Is Nor in there?” Mom asks.

  I shake my head and tell them that Megs picked her up earlier on.

  “Did you and Josh chat? You know. . .about everything?”

  I frown. “Everything? You mean Cora and Joce?”

  They exhale in unison and exchange a look of relief. Mom nods. “Have you met them yet?”

  I shake my head. “I wanted to head out after seeing Josh. He’s sleeping now so—”

  Mom takes my hands in hers. “Where are you staying? Come stay with us. Please.”

  I should politely refuse and offer an excuse because I still need time to work out everything in my mind without anyone getting in my head. But at the same time, I need them so much it fucking hurts. I nod and I’m rewarded with the most brilliant smile ever. “I’ve missed you and Dad.”

  She cups my face in her hands and kisses my cheek. Then she digs around inside her handbag and pulls out a bunch of keys. “You will need these.”

  After saying our goodbyes, I take the elevator down to the parking lot. My head is pounding, sending excruciating pain down my spine. Once I’m seated inside the truck, I tug the beanie from my head, open the glove compartment and grab the bottle of painkillers I keep in there for emergencies. I twist the cap and pop two inside my mouth, recap it and toss it back. I chase them down with the bottle of water sitting in the cup holder on the console and then lean my head back on the head rest. I close my eyes and wait for the medication to do its magic.

  I jolt awake suddenly, feeling as if a heavy weight is pressing on my chest. Taking deep breaths, I squint at my watch. I’ve been asleep for almost thirty minutes. My head feels much better although my neck is cramped from the awkward position.

  After checking my phone for text messages—most of them from Tate, checking how everything is going—I roll my neck to ease the tension there, and then start the car. I have no idea where Nor lives. Plus I don’t know if the girls know who I am to them.

  I drag my fingers through my hair as nervousness fills my chest. I can’t do this without Nor. If I’m going to meet them, I want her around. I’m excited and worried in equal measures. What if I don’t make a good impression? I don’t want Cora and Joce to look back one day and think that their father was a nervous wreck. Or worse.

  I peel out of the parking spot and drive to the hotel.

  AFTER TAKING A SHOWER AND packing my bags, I head down to reception with Sirius safely inside the carrier, check out and leave the hotel. I’m pushing almost fifty-two hours without sleep. I hadn’t slept a lot the night before I left Boston.

  I’d woken earlier than usual to double-check the floor plans for the Boston Project. Our client, Mr Kiplinger—a stubborn son of a bitch—suddenly changed his mind about the door placements and extending some rooms at the last minute. Tate had entrusted me to work the floor plans. I’d been more than happy to do it. Knowing that he trusted me enough to leave it in my hands boosted my confidence. After editing the plan in the drafting software to fit the client’s instructions, which took almost half the night, I met him and Simon for breakfast the following morning to go over the plans again. And still, after the meeting, the client seemed disgruntled about something else. Eventually, Tate informed him to call our office for another appointment once he decided exactly what he wanted. Mr Kiplinger seemed to sober up after that.

  Tate, the project manager—who took me under his wing when I started interning at the firm during my second year—and Simon have worked together on a few projects in the past, including the Boston project. Tate and I met while I was volunteering at a Deaf Awareness fundraiser. He was doing pro bono work at the Western Heights School and Center for the Deaf to make the facilities more hard-of-hearing student oriented. We had gotten along very well because we had a common goal. After being turned down by several companies for their internship programs, both Simon and Tate vouched for me and I was accepted as an architect intern at Lawrence and Barnes. No one batted an eyelash when Tate mentioned he’d show me the ropes, which was a good thing. Sometimes people get awkward, not sure how to react or talk to someone who is hard of hearing.

  To impress the interviewer further, I’d presented a 3D model of a low-cost beachfront house I’d worked on the previous summer, hoping it would help them solidify their decision to hire me. Also having worked in my dad’s firm as a teen added some weight to my portfolio. I spent most of my free time in the studio to accrue work experience hours needed for the architectural program. If everything goes as planned, I should be ready to register for the licensure exams in a year or so.

  Sleeping is not a priority right now, though. My head is full of unprocessed thoughts and
things I have to come to terms with.

  I take a deep breath and concentrate on getting to my destination without causing any accidents.

  Fifteen minutes later, I park the truck outside my parents’ house. My gaze drifts to the house next to it, as though some force is pulling me toward it. Memories of the time spent here on that roof hit me hard.

  Fuck.

  I can’t breathe.

  I grip the wheel and wait for the feeling to pass. Then I fling my door open, grab the carrier and my bag. I stride toward the house I grew up in, keeping my eyes averted from Nor’s childhood home.

  The door flies open. My little brother—I’d know that shaggy hair of his anywhere—Nick, dashes out, barreling toward me. He skids to a halt and throws his arms around me.

  Whoa.

  I set the bag and carrier down, and then wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  He pulls back and lifts his hands, and signs, “It’s so good to see you, bro. Mom called to let me know you would be dropping by.”

  “You should stop growing so the rest of us can catch up,” I tease him.

  He laughs. “As if I would. I need to be able to look down on you all.” He glances down, then back at me. “Who is this little guy?”

  “Sirius.” The cat opens its eyes and meows in greeting. Sometimes I think this cat is half human.

  Nick grabs the box from the ground and nods for me to follow him. I place a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He stops and turns around.

  “Slow down. How are you holding up?”

  The smile on his face fades. He shifts on his feet, averting his eyes from mine and then blinks several times to keep the tears at bay.

  “I’m trying. We’re all trying.” He fixes his gaze on mine and grins tiredly. “It’s all about hope, right? That’s something we can’t afford to give up on.”

  He and I know that Josh’s death is inevitable. Hope is like a red flag, waving in the distance. If I let myself reach for it, it will sway and all I will end up with in my hands is air.

  “Don’t do this, Nick. Please.”

  His shoulders slump forward. He blinks furiously, working his jaw. “I can’t afford not to. I can’t think of Josh being gone. He’s my big brother for shit’s sake.”

  “Come here.”

  I meet him halfway and he falls in my arms.

  “Look at me,” I command and he obeys, blinking tear-filled blue eyes at me. “I’m here now, all right?”

  “You weren’t here. You left.” His nostrils flare in anger.

  “You know why I left, Nick. You do, right?”

  He glares at me, his jaw clenched. With a quick nod, he averts his gaze and swipes the wetness on his cheek with the back of his free hand. My hands flex beside me, fighting the urge to comfort him, but I hold back. He needs some time to work out what he is going through right now.

  He rolls his shoulders, meeting my gaze again but now the anger is gone. “It fucking sucks, you know? That bastard ruined everyone’s life around here.” He jabs a finger toward the house next to ours.

  I glance again at Nor’s house, grinding my teeth. My blood boils in my veins just thinking about that asshole and I yank my gaze away back to face my brother.

  “He’s not around. No one knows where he is. Good riddance,” he says, obviously noticing my anger. “No one lives there anymore.”

  I raise a brow. “Nor’s mother?”

  He shakes his head. “Divorced his sorry ass. She lives with some dude in Phoenix. You hungry? I can whip up something for you.”

  Good for her.

  I nod answering his question. I can’t even remember the last time I ate. “Thank fuck you asked.”

  Nick flashes me a smile and heads to the door. I follow him inside the house, embracing the familiarity of the place I left years ago.

  Nothing has changed in here. The same brown couch with pillows of various colors arranged neatly on it, heavy wood antique table, vintage lamp hanging from the ceiling. . .all mismatched furniture from over nine years ago. The house still smells like home, warm food and security. The mantle on top of the fireplace is filled with pictures. Some of them are new. A few are of Nor and Josh with two red-headed girls sitting on their laps and grinning at the camera. I don’t allow myself to stay there too long, though. I climb upstairs with my bag in hand and head to my room.

  About twenty minutes later, I head back downstairs, hoping to catch up with Nick. He’s leaning on the marble kitchen counter, pouring milk into a bowl for Sirius, who’s greedily lapping at the sides. I glance around the kitchen with pride, taking in the elegant yet homey feel of it. When I was eighteen, my dad and I worked on upgrading this room as a gift from him to my mom for their twenty-third wedding anniversary.

  I watch my little brother, his head bent toward the counter, his focus on the task of putting together a sandwich.

  Shit. I’ve missed most of his teen years.

  “How’s school? What’s your major?”

  He lifts his gaze from the chicken sandwich he is preparing for me. “Hospital management. Florida State. It’s okay so far.” He pushes the plate toward me, then folds his hands on his chest and stares at me.

  I take a bite of the sandwich, chew and swallow. “This is really good. You should start your own sandwich shop or something.”

  He grins proudly. “Thanks. It’s in my five-year plan.”

  “Very ambitious,” I say taking another huge bite.

  My phone vibrates inside my pocket. I hold the sandwich with one hand and dig my phone out and swipe the screen to read the message.

  Megs: My shift at the hospital starts soon. Nor wants to go back to Josh.

  Me: No. Distract her. I’m on the way.

  I know it’s probably not my place anymore, but I can’t help but feel protective of Nor.

  After letting Nick know where I’m going, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head out to my truck, while chewing on the last piece of my meal.

  I arrive at Spinner’s cafe ten minutes later and spend the next three searching for a spot to park my truck. The smell of coffee and pastries immediately welcomes me as I step through the glass door. The cafe has maintained its fifties retro look, which is one of the things I loved about this place. Although I don’t see any familiar faces, being inside here brings back so many memories.

  I spot Megs and Nor, sitting in a booth in the furthest corner of the room. I walk past the green door with the words ‘Book Nook’ on it. The wooden floor vibrates beneath my feet in rhythmic beats from the song playing on the red vintage jukebox placed against the wall near the counter, with blue lights flickering on and off in intervals.

  Megs waves when she sees me. Nor’s head snaps up and she stiffens when our eyes meet. She whips around to glare at her friend and says something to Megs.

  When I get to the table, I ask, “Ready to leave?”

  Megs nods and flashes me a smile, relieved and then quickly snatches her purse from the table and stands up. I raise a brow at Nor. Her lips move as she mutters something under her breath before dragging her feet wearily. I notice again how thin she is. If I wasn’t deaf, I’m sure I’d have heard a few bones rattle against each other, having nothing to support them.

  I head for the cashier’s counter and pay for their tab, despite Megs’ protests, and then follow them out. Megs stands on the tip of her toes to kiss my cheek and says that she’s about to start her shift at the hospital. She gives Nor a quick hug and tells her she’ll call her later.

  Nor spares me a nervous glance and signs, “She’ll drop me at the hospital,” before shuffling after her friend.

  Hell, no.

  My fingers wrap around her upper arm, pulling her back to my side. She jerks her head up, her eyes widening in surprise. I nod to my truck parked a few blocks down. She looks over her shoulder to Megs, but she’s already seated in her car.

  She jerks her arm from my grip. “I need to go back to the hospital. I’ll go get some rest as soon as
Ben and Maggie get there.”

  “My parents are already there. You need to eat and get some rest. I’m taking you home.”

  Her eyes flare with anger, her cheeks filling with color. Her indignation seems to boost some energy inside her. She straightens to her full height of five feet, hardly hitting my chin, and looking like a very pissed off fairy.

  I scowl down at her and jerk my chin toward the truck. “Let’s go.”

  Her shoulders slump in defeat. She turns to follow me, stumbling twice and then pulling her small frame back upright.

  Christ, she can hardly carry her own weight she’s so exhausted. Without any warning, I scoop her up in my arms and cradle her to my chest.

  Her lips part in surprise. “What the hell, Cole? Put me down.”

  “If you don’t stop it, I’m going to toss you over my shoulder.” I glare at her.

  She squirms, fighting for me to release her, but finally gives up and wraps her arms around my neck to minimize her body from being jostled. A few seconds later, she leans her head on my shoulder.

  I bite back a groan as her scent slams into me.

  Her hair is about an inch from my nose. I can’t resist the pull to her any longer. I lower my head, breathing her in. I feel some kind of peace I haven’t experienced in a long time settle over me, which makes me angry at myself for allowing that to happen.

  I lengthen my strides, eager to get to the truck and put some distance between us. I halt in front of the Suburban and balance her in my arms which is no huge feat, given how light she is. I dig out my keys from my jeans pocket. After opening the car door, I duck in and sit her on the seat then stand back as she buckles the belt with fidgety fingers. I shut the door, round the car and slide onto my seat. Then I realize I have no idea where she lives. I angle my body to face her at the same time she peeks up at me.

  “What’s your address?”

  She yawns. “We live in my grandma’s house.”

  My gaze automatically goes to the flower shop across from the cafe. I shove the key into the ignition and dart a glance at her. “What happened to Phoebe’s?”