The Moment We Fell Read online

  “Then fight for me,” I whispered.

  Those four small words seemed to break Faye where she sat and her face crumpled. “You don’t know how hard it was for me not to tear up your mother’s will and pretend it never existed. I would have done it too if—” Faye closed her eyes for longer than a blink. “I loved my sister. I—love my sister. And as much as I want to, I can’t ignore her last wishes, Paige. What kind of a sister would I be if I did?” She squeezed my hands tighter as a flash of pain washed over her face. “So, as angry as I am with Abby right now—”

  Please don’t.

  “I have to believe she had a genuine reason for doing this.”

  “Are you kidding me?!” Every drop of blood in my veins bubbled to get to the surface. I couldn’t catch my breath. If I hadn’t been sitting upright on the sofa just then, I would have sworn that someone had pinned me down and put a heavy hand over my mouth.

  In an instant, Faye was kneeling at my side, trying desperately to peel my arms from where I’d wrapped them tightly around myself.

  “Paige! Paige, sweetie, I know, I know!” she’d whimpered quietly into my ear, her arms encircling me. We swayed back and forth as she kissed the top of my head. There was wetness on my scalp. Her tears? I wasn’t sure of anything at that moment.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. I was sure of one thing: someone, somewhere, must be trying to kill me.

  “We’re coming into town,” Jay announces. Startled by the intrusion, I dismiss my thoughts and place a trembling hand on my forehead as I refocus on the world outside the car window. The coastal town of Mystic Shores rolls into view. Population: 8,620. That’s what the decorative, wooden welcome sign declares. And it’s just what I imagined. Small.

  It begins to sprinkle, and Jay turns on the windshield wipers. As he maneuvers the Dodge Durango through town, we’re all quiet, except for Lily, who’s playing tour guide in the seat next to me.

  “That’s the McDonald’s. And over there’s the movie theater. Do you like movies, Paige? I love movies!”

  Jay points out a road to the left that leads to the high school. Connie directs my attention to the real estate office where she tells me she’s worked for about five years. Tanner’s head remains buried in his phone, where it’s been since we left baggage claim. Lily points out a few more insignificant landmarks as we drive: the Grab & Go grocery store, the library and the Chinese food restaurant, and then we make a left turn. I catch a glimpse of the street sign as we pass, which reads “Driftwood Drive.” On either side of the road sit half a dozen homes with large yards. Jay turns into the driveway of a big two story with a manicured lawn and kills the engine.

  “This is it,” Connie declares, staring up at the house. “Let’s get your things inside.”

  The family’s home is what I would describe as elegant. Not the kind where you worry about touching anything, but the type captured in magazines.

  In the living room, thick, burgundy drapes line the windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling, allowing in a flood of muted afternoon light from the overcast sky. As I step a little farther into the room, my eyes quickly scan over an assortment of family photos that line the fireplace mantel in fancy frames. And perhaps the topper to this Good Housekeeping spread is the baby grand piano that sits dust-free and polished to perfection in the corner.

  “Your room is upstairs,” Jay says. “Would you like to see it?”

  Connie takes my suitcase from him and leads the way. Jay doesn’t follow.

  When we reach the top of the stairs, she stops at the first door on the left. “Here it is,” she announces, pushing it open and flipping on the light. I hesitate, then take a deep, you-can-do-this breath and step inside.

  It’s a decent room as far as bedrooms go. There’s a queen-size bed on the far wall and a desk with a laptop in the corner. The walls are painted a pale yellow, and there’s a colorful throw rug in the middle of the hardwood floor. I set down my other suitcase and put my duffel on the bed, narrowly missing a gray-and-white cat that’s so fluffy and large, I thought it was a pillow.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Connie says, leaning around me and waving her hand in a shooing motion at the cat. The large animal doesn’t budge. Instead, it releases what I think is a cross between a hiss and a growl. Connie sighs and apologizes again. “That’s Kitty Poppins.” There’s a note of disdain in her voice. “We rescued her from the shelter last year. Unfortunately, we’ve since discovered that she isn’t all that fond of people.” As if to openly mock Connie and prove her point, Kitty Poppins lazily stretches, rolls over and venomously swipes her paw in Connie’s direction.

  “If she’s so awful, why do you keep her?” I ask.

  “She’s not awful,” Connie backpedals. “More like ornery. But Lily thinks the world of her, so, it is what it is.” Her eyebrows shoot skyward in alarm. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you? Oh, dear, I didn’t even think of that.”

  “No, I’m not allergic.”

  “Oh, good.” Connie sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples.

  Lily appears in the doorway with a pink plastic convertible tucked awkwardly under one arm and dragging a bulging Hello Kitty backpack on the ground behind her. She makes her way into the room like she owns the joint.

  “Lily, what are you doing?” Connie demands.

  The little girl swings the backpack onto the bed, and a mess of yellow doll hair spills out from the half-open zipper. “I want to play Barbies with Paige. I brought my collection for her to see. Paige, did you know that Barbie has a sister? Her name is Skipper.”

  “Oh, honey, not now,” Connie says, swiping the pack off the bed before Lily can reach inside to retrieve its contents. She steers the little girl by the shoulders back to the doorway. “Paige just got here. Let’s give her some time to get settled.”

  “But I want to play with her nooooow,” Lily whines. “You said sisters play together!”

  “Later!” Connie whispers harshly, waving Lily down the hallway, much like she attempted to shoo Kitty Poppins. The little girl huffs and stomps off.

  Connie closes her eyes and exhales a long breath. The woman is definitely stressed. “Sorry about that. She’s just so excited that you’re here. You’re all she’s talked about for the last week.”

  A small smile blooms across my lips, and it must be what Connie has been waiting for because her shoulders instantly relax.

  “I want you to feel like this room is yours, Paige. So, I will talk with Lily again about giving you your privacy, but I warn you, she’s persistent.” Yup, I sort of already picked up on that. “How about next week you and I go shopping, and we’ll get you a new bedspread and maybe some framed art for the walls?”

  “Sure.” I don’t know if I will ever have anything meaningful to say to this woman, but I’m trying. Right now, I just want to be left alone, behind closed doors, where I don’t have worried eyes sizing me up and trying to assess how damaged I really am. “I think I’ll unpack, if that’s okay?”

  “Great, sure, absolutely. I’ll start dinner, and I’ll call you when it’s ready. We’re having chicken.” She pauses, then looks momentarily concerned once again. “Do you like chicken? Or are you vegetarian? I could make something else.”

  I have to give her points for effort. “Chicken is fine. Really.”

  “Great! Chicken it is!” Her attempt at a lighthearted laugh comes out more like an odd, strangled sound as she backs toward the door.

  I muster another quick smile, and thankfully, she disappears, closing the door behind her. As the clacking of her heels grows distant, I take a full, cleansing breath and slowly release it. Now that it’s just me and Kitty Poppins, the room is quiet, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day.

  I unzip my suitcase. Tucked protectively between my clothes are two silver-framed pictures. The first is of Mom and me at Disneyland last summer, in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. I run my finger across the glass before placing it gently on the nightstand.
The other photo is of Aunt Faye and my cousin Tyler. He’s Faye’s only child, and he’s two years older than me. Ty just started his sophomore year at the University of Oregon, so at least he isn’t too far away. That’s the most comforting thought I’ve had since I left San Diego this morning.

  Encased in those two frames is my entire world. I glance around my new room. I suppose that’s no longer true. Thanks to what has to be my mother’s worst decision ever, and with help from the law firm of Johnson, McCrory and Taylor, I now have a father. How in the world am I supposed to handle this? I reach out a hand and stroke Kitty Poppins’s fur. She cracks open one eye and gives me a once-over that borders on uninterested. Then, as if I’ve met her feline expectations, the cat’s eyes close once again. No hissing, no growling.

  I pull out my cell phone and shoot Aunt Faye a text, explaining that I’ve arrived and that I’ll call her tomorrow. I can’t talk to her right now. She’ll keep me on the phone forever and expect me to tell her everything that’s happened since I boarded the plane. Call me a crappy niece, but I just don’t have it in me to put on a happy voice and tell her everything is fine. Because it’s not. And I’m not sure if it ever will be again.

  I sit on the bed, looking around the room that doesn’t really belong to me. I think about the people downstairs who don’t know me. And those aren’t even the greatest of my worries right now. Monday will be my first day at a new school where I have no friends and will basically have to start all over again. And to top it all off, I am the principal’s kid.

  There’s no way I can fly under the radar on that one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cade

  Two hundred and sixteen days until graduation. That mental countdown is what gets me out of bed every morning and convinces me to go to school. Today, though, I should have just stayed in bed. I know that the instant I pull my motorcycle into the student lot and spot her.

  She’s standing in the shadow of a large tree, her back against the worn brick wall that leads to the school’s entrance. She kicks distractedly at the asphalt with the toe of her boot, trying to dissolve into her surroundings like a chameleon desperate to hide from predators. What she can’t hide from me is the despair that’s nearly tattooed across her face.

  “Hey, Hannah.”

  I barely get those two simple words past my lips when she blurts out, “I need help.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. I scan the space around us, trying to identify who’s within earshot before I say, “What’s going on?”

  Hannah pushes off the wall. Her heeled boots add some stature to her small frame, but she barely brushes my shoulder. “I’m out. I’m leaving town.” Her attempt at bravery can’t mask the quiver in her voice.

  “Why? I thought you were going back home. You told me you worked everything out with your parents.”

  “Yeah, well, I lied.” She brushes a strand of hair away from her face. Her usual sparkle, so mesmerizing that I’ve seen her take down a guy with a simple wink, is nowhere to be found. Instead, light purple bruises bloom in the hollows beneath her eyes, a track record of many sleepless nights. “I’ve gotta get out of here, Cade.”

  “Wait a second.” I release a slow lungful of air, giving my mind a moment to catch up. “You promised me you weren’t gonna do this. You said you would—”

  “I don’t have a choice!” A couple of students walking by look over, and Hannah lowers her head. She doesn’t like to draw attention to herself. “I don’t have a choice,” she softly repeats.

  When Hannah and I first met, we were just kids, and the worst things either of us worried about were getting grounded for not doing our chores or not getting what we wanted for Christmas. But things changed, and life got more complicated than either of us knew how to handle.

  I was thirteen when it started. One minute I was living a pretty good life and the next—I’d lost everything that held me together. First, my mom. I can thank cancer for that one. Then my dad. But I refuse to take any of the blame there. He knew what he was doing, and he knew it would destroy us, so it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it did. The final casualty was me. I’d splintered beneath the weight of devastating loss and insurmountable betrayal, and I let it engulf me until I couldn’t see straight. I did things I’m not proud of, and I got caught up in a life that no longer resembled anything good. I hurt a lot of people. I know that, and no matter what I do, I will always carry the weight of the guilt on my shoulders. But despite all of it, I’d been lucky, because I’d had people in my life who’d helped pull me back up. My sister, for one. She’d refused to give up on me, and she was right beside me through it all, until I finally figured out how to crawl my way back to the surface.

  Like me, Hannah got mixed up with the wrong crowd a couple of years ago. And because her parents were more concerned about their reputation and social standing, they found it easier to disown her than to forgive her. She’s been bumming on the streets and crashing on friends’ couches ever since. I’ve tried to help her when I can, but things don’t seem to be getting any better. When our senior year began two months ago, Hannah promised me she would try to get her life back on track, and she’d start by making amends with her parents. Instead, she was ditching class by the end of the first week.

  “What about your brother?” I ask, my jaw tightening against the sick realization that her loser sibling might be the only person in her family who could stop her from making this enormous mistake. “I thought you said you could talk to him.”

  “I’m an embarrassment to him, too. Just like I am to my parents. I was an idiot to think he was any different from the rest of them.”

  “Running away isn’t going to fix this,” I say, but the words sour on my tongue. I’m the last person who should be lecturing her. I shake my head, trying to suppress the bitter memories and the guilt I now feel. “Where are you gonna go?”

  Before she can answer, she spots something over my shoulder and curses as she drops her head, trying to hide behind the veil of her hair.

  “What’s going on here, Miss Sloane?”

  I roll my eyes just before Principal Chapman enters my peripheral vision, suspicion plastered in stern lines across his brow.

  “Nothing, Mr. Chapman,” Hannah says, so sweetly I almost believe her. “We’re just talking, sir.”

  I’m quick to notice the girl standing two steps behind him. Our gazes meet, and I barely have time to focus on her face before she averts her eyes, brushing her long hair over one shoulder as if she’s trying to go unnoticed, and glances at her wristwatch. At first, I think maybe she’s a new student, but she looks familiar. Wait—the airport. I shake my head, convinced that I must be hallucinating, and this girl is some strange mirage that’s morphed from my subconscious. I study her face. Oh, yeah, it’s her. The girl who was convinced I was stealing her suitcase. The spitfire who’d nearly tackled me over a piece of luggage is now standing in front of me. What in the world is she doing here?

  “The bell’s about to ring,” Principal Chapman says. He eyes me with disapproval so thick, I could slice it with a knife and serve it on crackers. He’s not my biggest fan. Never has been. “And you, Miss Sloane, can’t afford any more unexcused absences. I suggest you get to class or we’ll be seeing you in detention again.” He glances at Hannah and then back at me, the stern lines deepening across his forehead.

  “We’re heading in,” Hannah says, offering another sweet smile.

  The girl beside Principal Chapman glances up at me, but this time when her eyes meet mine, she holds my gaze for a long moment, a perplexed expression on her face.

  “Get moving. You don’t want to be late,” he warns.

  Yeah, because being tardy would be the end of the world. I bite back the retort as my eyes drift once more to the dark-haired stranger, who looks as curious as she does uncomfortable.

  Principal Chapman motions toward the building. “Come on, Paige, let’s go.”

  The girl offers me a half smile, an
d I watch as she follows him into the school, then I return my attention to Hannah, who’s avoiding my eyes.

  “You aren’t going inside, are you?”

  Dipping her head, she shrugs her rail-thin shoulders. “I bought a bus ticket to Portland. I have a friend there. I can probably stay with her for a while.”

  “Probably? Hannah—”

  “I’ll make it work. I always do.” She nods as if she’s made her final decision and skims a hand through her hair. “I need a fresh start, ya know?”

  Yeah, I do know. I know all about trying to run from your problems and finally realizing that no matter how fast you move and how far you go, your demons will always be faster than you.

  Hannah should never have been on the streets in the first place. Her family is loaded, and they gave her everything she could ever want, except for the two things that matter: unconditional love and forgiveness. I can’t be a part of that world anymore, the world where Hannah and I were friends who bonded over bad luck and crappy circumstances. It served me well when that was all I had, but I’m not that guy anymore. Even if no one else bothers to notice.

  “I just don’t feel right letting you go. Not like this,” I say.

  “Then come with me,” she says. Before I can process her words, she raises up on her tiptoes and wraps a hand around my neck, tugging me toward her. I grab her wrists.

  “What are you doing?”

  She exhales deeply. “Taking a chance. Cade, we’ve been through so much together. You’ve been so good to me, even when I haven’t returned the favor. Come with me to Portland. We can start over.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” She reaches for me again, and I step back.

  “Because we’re just friends,” I remind her. “And because I’ve finally gotten my life back together. I have responsibilities now. I can’t just leave.”

  To my surprise, she smiles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. But it was worth a shot.”