The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(39)

A white, toothy grin formed on his mouth. There was nothing smooth or sexy about it. It melted me all the same.

After turning the water off, he snagged a towel. “So stay here.”

Break out the banners again!

“There are two bedrooms.”

Just kidding. Pack that shit back up.

I smiled through the disappointment. “You sure you don’t mind?”

He lifted the towel to his head and began scrubbing his dark-brown hair dry. “No. I don’t mind. However, I’m not dumb enough to think that there aren’t any available rooms in this massive hotel. But there’s no point in either one of us hauling our shit somewhere else when there are two perfectly good beds here.” He shrugged.

I guessed under one roof was a start. We could work up to one bed.

“Great. Well, I guess… Goodnight, Evan.”

“Goodnight, Henry.” His lips twitched.

I braced myself for the hasty kiss that usually followed.

It never came.

And, moments later, in nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist, I performed the walk of shame for an empty audience.





One week later…



Me: I got my STD results back today. Negative. Can you send me yours?

Henry: Are you flirting with me?

Me: No.

Henry: Well that’s unfortunate. But…hello to you too, Evan.



It wasn’t the same when he typed my name. I missed the sound of it rolling from his tongue and the sensation of it being breathed against my skin. I missed his quirky jokes and his infectious laugh. I missed the way he looked at me—awestruck as though I were the superstar, not him. I missed the fire he ignited inside me.

And that was exactly why I hadn’t replied to a single one of his texts over the last week. I was in way over my head.

Henry had left on a bus the morning after our little hookup. He’d knocked on my door to tell me he was leaving, but I hadn’t even had the balls to open it. It was safe to say I was freaking the f*ck out. He’d texted me just after I’d landed with Jessica and Tabitha in tow. It was short and to the point but still very much Henry.

How’d the flight go, Maverick?

I would have laughed if I’d been able to remember how to amongst the chaos in my mind.

What the hell had I done, opening myself up to him like that? It was a casual thing. Casual sex. Except nothing was casual about Henry.



Me: Hi. Tests?

Henry: I usually wouldn’t share such personal information with an employee. Do you have any plans to utilize this information?



I blinked down at my phone. He could not be serious.

I quickly began swiping my fingers across the keyboard. I still hadn’t repaired my broken screen, but Henry had left a business phone complete with his number programmed into the contacts on my seat in the cockpit the morning after he’d left. I assumed he’d gotten the idea right about the time he’d realized he’d never asked for my phone number. But it wasn’t like I’d asked for his. I hadn’t needed it since I wouldn’t be calling him and we went through Jackson for travel arrangements.

Not that there had been any of those in the last week, either. At the rate I was going, I’d have to volunteer to fly Jackson’s charters for free just to keep my hours up—and my sanity intact. I loved getting a paycheck, but I was a pilot because I wanted to fly, not sit around watching daytime soaps while waiting for my phone to ring.

I never should have taken the job with Henry.

And I definitely shouldn’t have kissed him, gotten him naked, and then let him blow me.

And I really shouldn’t have wanted more of that so badly I couldn’t sleep at night. Honestly, it pissed me off.

So, over the last week, I’d done the smart thing. I’d avoided him. Every text. Every call. That is until I’d caved, jumping at my very first excuse I had to text him. And I was already regretting it.



Me: Are you kidding me right now? You should probably share this information with your EMPLOYEE regardless how I plan to UTILIZE it. I came in your mouth last weekend without a condom. I don’t think a simple, “Hey I don’t have HIV,” is too much to ask.



I watched the bubble icon at the bottom of my screen blink on and off for several minutes. He was typing. And typing. And, five minutes later, still typing. I expected one hell of a long message.



Henry: I’m clean. I’ll have my doctor send you proof.



“Shit.” I raked an angry hand through my hair. That wasn’t a long message, which meant he’d spent all that time typing and deleting and then retyping that crap.



Me: What did the first draft of that message say?

Henry: Do you need anything else, Evan?



Yep. It was official. I hated seeing my name typed.



Me: What did the first draft of that message say?

Henry: Why does it matter?



Because I’m looking for a reason to keep talking to you. Oh, and I feel guilty for avoiding you all week. And for currently being a dick because I have no f*cking idea how to handle the way I’m feeling.

I groaned at myself.



Me: I’m sorry, okay? Any chance you’ll be needing a pilot soon? Maybe we can grab a coffee and talk.