The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(3)

“We’ve been over this. I wasn’t missing her baby shower.”

He grumbled, adjusting in his seat. “I think Levee and Sam would’ve understood.”

I narrowed my eyes and turned to glare at him. “Don’t even start with me. They would have understood perfectly. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to be there.”

My tour had been scheduled over a year in advance. Tickets had sold out in less than five minutes. But none of that had mattered when I’d found out that Sam’s mom was planning a baby shower for Levee. I had very few priorities in life. However, being there for her was always one of them.

Susan approached my seat. “Can I get you another drink, Mr. Alexander?”

“Thank God. Yes!” I lifted my glass in her direction.

“No problem.” Her eyes nervously shifted to Carter. “A word?”

Carter unbuckled his seat belt and moved past me. They huddled together behind the small bar in the front, but my focus was on the mini bottle of gin she was emptying in my glass. I was well aware that I needed to slow down. Drunk on stage wasn’t exactly a novelty in my business, but slurring my words and stumbling over lyrics were a deal breaker for me.

Just as I was about to tell her to hold off on the drink, the plane suddenly jerked and my nerves skyrocketed all over again. I sucked in a sharp breath, and both sets of their concerned eyes jumped to mine.

Yep. I can sober up later.

Snapping my fingers, I ordered, “Drink.”

Susan smiled compassionately before shooting an impatient glare at Carter. I would have cared what they were whispering about if I hadn’t been about to pull an Incredible Hulk and peel out of my own skin.

“I’ll tell him,” Carter relented with a sigh, tagging the drink from her hand and then moving in my direction.

With shaking hands, I took the glass and tipped it back for a sip, relishing in the distracting burn in my chest.

“Tell me what?” I asked, settling the glass in a cup holder.

He motioned his chin at my drink. “Why don’t you finish that first?”

The clear liquid sloshed as the plane suddenly banked to the left.

“Excellent idea,” I said.

Carter’s gaze once again lifted to Susan’s in a silent conversation.

Her lips thinned.

Throwing the rest of my drink back, I bounced my attention back and forth between the two of them. Susan looked downright nervous, and Carter appeared more than a little annoyed.

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you two?” I demanded.

“The pilot is having some chest pains,” he announced.

Suddenly, there wasn’t enough gin in the world.

Fighting to make my seat belt tighter, I gasped, “Did he pass out? Are we going down?”

Carter’s expression remained impassive.

“Of course not!” Susan cut in.

Her reassurance did little to comfort me, because whatever magical mechanism kept the cabin pressurized suddenly failed. If the pain in my lungs was any indication, there was absolutely no oxygen left on that plane. We were all going to die.

Carter’s heavy paw landed on my back, pushing my torso down so my head was between my knees.

“Calm down and breathe. We aren’t going down. The copilot is taking us back to San Francisco. We’ll be on the ground in no time.”

The vise on my lungs didn’t loosen.

Still hunched over, I nodded, having heard his words but finding no relief in them.

Susan kneeled beside me. “It’s okay, Henry. Co-captain Baez is an amazing pilot. You won’t even know the difference.” She rubbed my back.

Embarrassment mingled with the worthlessness I felt in that moment. But I was helpless to reel it in. My body was out of control. I was left as nothing more than a marionette being held captive by my fear.

Reaching out, I gripped Carter’s thigh desperately searching for a way to ground myself.

The man was a beast. At six-five and well over three hundred pounds, with short, black hair and nearly black eyes, he looked every bit of the scary bodyguard I’d hired him to be. There wasn’t anything soft or gentle about him. However, he’d been with me for almost a decade. He knew how I worked, even if he didn’t like it.

He patted my hand, and then I heard the crinkle of his magazine opening.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

I wasn’t sure he was right.





“STAY.” I CAUGHT her arm.

She sniffled, the unshed tears still lingering in her eyes. “I can’t.”

I stood, pushing off my couch, and followed her toward the door. “Nikki, please.”

“I can’t do this. I love you, Evan. Love,” she stressed in case I’d missed it the last five times she’d said it. “I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I’d known it was coming. She’d been hinting at it for weeks—almost saying the words before chickening out when I’d abruptly change the subject. Today, she’d caught me though. And I’d had nothing to say in return. I care about you doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as I love you too.

Nikki and I had been dating for six months. Sleeping together for seven. Unofficially living together for two. But, up until thirty seconds ago, we had never uttered those three magical words.