The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(63)

I didn’t care that he wasn’t straight. But I couldn’t risk him seeing the dirty and broken parts of me, because if he didn’t return my feelings after I’d opened myself up, I’d never recover.

Evan had given himself to me that night. What we had experienced together wasn’t even in the same category as sex. It was the joining of two souls, and we’d both felt it.

Only I’d felt it too much.

Too deep.

Too hard.

Too permanent—at least, I wanted it to be.

So, clearly, the obvious answer was for me to leave him before he could leave me.

“Henry.” Levee snapped her fingers and repeated, “Does he like you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was only physical for him,” I lied. Only I couldn’t muster a fake smile to go along with it.

I liked him. That was all that mattered. And it hurt like hell to be standing in her bedroom instead of falling asleep in his arms.

“Jesus. Get him in bed,” Sam whispered when Levee wrapped her arms around my trembling shoulders.

She pulled me down beside her. “You’re so f*cking stubborn.”

“I’ll give you two some time alone.” He kissed Levee’s hair and squeezed my shoulder. “Not accepting it doesn’t change reality, Henry. Life is a struggle, but it’s who you chose to take on the journey with you that matters the most. And, if you ask me, it sounds like you already chose. Don’t let the bullshit details get in your way.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, nowhere near ready to internalize his words. “I’m doubling my efforts at sending you naked men from now on. Warning: They might even include a few selfies.”

His laugh traveled out of the room before disappearing with the click of the door closing behind him.

Levee tugged a giant body pillow between her legs and faced me. “You want to talk or sleep?”

“Sleep. But I feel the need to admit that I lied to you about how I felt about Evan a few weeks ago.”

Her eyes softened as she trailed her thumb over my eyebrows. “I know.”

I sucked in an agonizing breath. “Well, it was only a half lie. I don’t know if I really love him yet. But I want to. So f*cking bad.”

She smiled warmly. “I know that too.”





I SAT AT the airport all day, hoping Henry would show and at least let me fly him to his next concert.

And maybe talk to me.

And kiss me.

And tell me that he was sorry.

And, most importantly, tell me that we were okay.

He never showed.

My heart broke a little more each time my call went to his voicemail. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he was avoiding me.

But, by the second day without so much as a text, I got pissed.

At him for having run out on me for reasons I still couldn’t comprehend.

At myself for having trusted him with the jagged pieces of my heart.

At Shannon for having made them jagged to begin with.

At myself for having allowed Shannon to still have any part of my life at all.

Then, at Henry again, for having proven me right about men.

It was emotional upheaval at its finest.

On day three, I sent him a text telling him that I quit. It probably would have been more effective if I’d actually ever flown him anywhere since he hired me.

He didn’t reply.

So, on day four, I gathered my company cell phone and the few bits of clothing he’d left at my house and dropped them off at Jackson’s office. It was unlikely that Henry would get them any time soon, but just having them out of my house did wonders for me.

Or that’s what I told myself as I drunkenly destroyed my bedroom.

By day five, the anger had ebbed, but the pain was more prevalent than ever. The walls around my heart had long since been demolished, having left me raw and exposed. I couldn’t figure out how to start over after someone like Henry Alexander.

On day six, I found myself trying to manipulate a situation where I got to see him again. I spent hours mapping out his tour routes like some kind of sociopath. I needed to talk to him and na?vely thought, if I could get him into a room with me, I could fix things. I wasn’t sure what was truly broken, but I would have torn the gates of Hell down in order to fix it.

I was drowning.

At the one-week mark, I decided to f*ck him out of my system with as many women as I could find. Scott came over, we went out, and, instead of taking home the busty brunette eye-f*cking me from across the bar, I proceeded to sit at a table and stalk Henry’s twitter account, which I knew he didn’t even run.

There wasn’t enough booze in the state of California to make me forget him.

I went home alone that night. It was a good f*cking thing too. Because, the next morning, someone finally threw me a lifeline.

I was still basking in an alcohol-induced, pain-free slumber when I awoke to a loud knock on the door. Prying one eye open, I felt the world came crashing back down around me. I had no idea who was at my door at what felt like the crack of dawn, but I knew who it wasn’t, and for that alone, I dragged the pillow over my head and tried to block it all out.

However, when my unwelcome guest had the audacity to begin knocking in a cheery, musical beat, I was left with no other choice but to drag a pair of pants on and put a stop to the pounding before my head split in half.