The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(33)

So.

Fucked.

Up.

I absolutely wanted Evan. I’d felt a connection with him earlier. One I would have given anything to explore further, but not by sacrificing a part of myself.

“Sorry, but this isn’t going to happen,” I told Jessica. I shifted my gaze to Evan. “I’m gay,” I told him. “Not bi. Just gay.” I laughed humorlessly. “I would do anything to be with you, Evan. But not this.”

His shoulders fell, and he raked a hand through his hair. I expected anger or frustration from him. I expected the spiral down, where he would yell at me to go f*ck myself as he reiterated that he wasn’t gay. After that, I’d be forced to watch as he took Jessica and cashed in his tickets on the straight train.

“Henry…” he started.

“Don’t.” I waved him off, refusing to look at him again. I couldn’t bear witnessing the regret. Not from him.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed, making me flinch.

I offered Jessica a sad smile. “Sorry, doll. Wrong equipment.” I lifted her off my lap, placed her on the seat, and then quickly made my escape to the other side of the limo.

Luckily, it wasn’t but a few awkward minutes until we came to a stop. Carter was in the front seat with my driver and didn’t even have a chance to fold his giant body out before I bolted.

In my mad dash, I’d forgotten that we were in L.A.—home of the paparazzi. They were lined up on the sidewalk, waiting for me. My stomach was already in knots. I had no bag. No room key. No cell phone. Nothing but my wallet and a face that would ensure I couldn’t even walk up to the front desk without being swarmed.

And my heart was breaking for reasons that made no f*cking sense.

I needed to be alone.

Using my hands, I shielded my face from the blinding flashes.

“Carter!” I yelled.

The crowd enclosed around me, calling my name in a never ending round. This was the moment when I’d usually smile, sign autographs, pose for few photos, and then shoot the shit with the photogs I recognized. It was nothing new for me.

However, the panic attack creeping up on me absolutely was.

“Carter!” I yelled again, spinning in a circle. “Carter,” I choked out one last time before the oxygen ran out. Folding over, I rested my hands on my knees as photographers snapped countless pictures of my breakdown.

Suddenly, a strong arm linked with mine and started dragging me toward the entrance.

“Get the hell out of the way!” Evan yelled, pushing people from our path.

I wanted to snatch my arm away and tell him that I didn’t need his help.

I wanted to get my shit under control and take care of myself.

I wanted him to lead me through the chaos and then never leave.

Each was an equally worthless desire.

But with no other choice, I leaned into his side and allowed him to guide me through the clamoring crowd. Once we got into the hotel, he led me directly to the elevator. I briefly made eye contact with Carter just before the doors slid closed. Predictably, he was pissed, but I was too relieved to give a damn.

As the elevator carried us up, I remained folded over, doing my best to slow my breathing.

Evan’s heavy hand landed on my back and his breath breezed over my ear as he whispered, “Ten, nine, eight. One in, one out, okay?”

I silently nodded, and he continued.

“Seven, six, five.” He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “Four, three, two, one.” He paused. “Shit…I f*cked that up. Let’s start at five again. Five, four, three, two…”

The elevator dinged just as the word one cleared his lips.

He kept his hand connected to base of my neck as he guided me into the suite and over to the couch.

“Are you going to be okay? I need to go see if Jessica made it up to her room safely.”

Jessica.

I nodded.

After tossing a bottle of water next to me, he marched out the door.

It didn’t hurt.

Not even a little.

It killed.





I WAS THE world’s biggest dick. Because of my little threesome bullshit, Jessica was now alone somewhere, probably feeling completely rejected, and Henry was in the middle of a panic attack that rivaled any I’d witnessed from him over flying.

He’d lied to me about being bisexual, but I should have known better. The signs were all there. The way he’d stared at me while on stage, basically ignoring the women. The way he’d deflated when he’d walked in and seen me holding Jessica. The way he’d glared at her in the limo. The way we’d both forgotten she was supposed to be involved the moments our bodies had touched. Fuck.

I hadn’t been with a man since Shannon. Not one-on-one, at least. And especially not with one who unnerved me the way Henry did. Though, the minute we’d climbed into that limo with him, I’d wanted to ask her to leave. I hadn’t been able to think of anything except getting another taste of his mouth—and, if I’m being honest, every other part of his body.

I knocked on the door to room 9965, praying that I’d remembered the numbers correctly.

“Who is it?” Jessica called in a soft voice that made me feel even more like an *.

“It’s me. Evan.”

The door immediately opened. She was still in her shirt and her skirt, but she wasn’t wearing her shoes. It made her smaller than I’d remembered. Her makeup had worn off a good bit since the concert, and for the first time, I realized just how young she was underneath it all. Shit. She couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five. Probably fresh out of college and enjoying her first job in the real world.