Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(48)

Curious, I inch closer to the man. “Is everything okay, Sir?”

He startles and snaps his troubled gaze to mine. His face is flushed and he is swallowing hard, unable to get words out of his mouth. He shakes his head. I excuse myself, grab a plastic cup and fill it with water from the water cooler in the reception area, then head back and give the man the cup. He downs the water and sets the cup on the table.

“Thanks.”

I nod and turn to leave.

“She doesn’t know who I am,” he says, sounding lost. I spin around and face him.

“She thinks I’m a stranger. She can’t remember her dead husband or me, or my brother.” He rubs his forehead and crushes the cup in his fist.

I imagine my mother forgetting who I am and pain stabs inside my chest. My heart aches for this man.

“I’m Eleanor Blake.” I offer my hand in greeting, which he accepts.

“Eric Taylor.” He pulls back his hand.

I glance over my shoulder. Grandma is still inside the hall. She probably needs a little longer before she is done with what she is doing. I clear my throat and search the reception area. It’s like the staff have gone MIA.

God, what do I do? I’ve never seen an adult freak out—other than my mom—so this is quite frightening. I turn back to face Mr. Taylor and notice tears, probably born of frustration, shimmer in the corner of his eyes. I shift on my feet nervously. I can’t just leave him looking like this.

“Sir, um. . .Mr. Taylor. Would you like to talk about it?”

He shakes his head again. Then nods, expels a breath and lowers himself on the seat next to him. His body is coiled tight around the shoulders and his hands are balled into fists. He bumps them against each other, his eyes focused on the floor. With one last look over my shoulder, I round the table and sit across from him with my hands folded on my lap. I hope Grandma will be done soon.

He presses a fist against his mouth. “Why does this happen? Why does this disease steal memories?” He’s looking at me although I have a feeling his focus is not on me at all, but rather stuck in the distant past as he talks about their life. The time when he started noticing her forget the small things, and eventually the bigger things, like his son and her husband. By the time he is done, my heart is breaking for him and his mother, and I understand his frustration and panic. He stops speaking, but continues to stare at the floor. Grandma’s voice drifts toward me. I turn around to see her hugging one of the women who work here, then starting to walk in my direction.

Thank God. I don’t have answers for Mr. Taylor. I don’t think anyone is in a position to provide the answers he desperately seeks, but since Grandma is more knowledgeable than me, she might be able to help him more than I did. She stops next to me and they start to chat. I realize she and Mr. Taylor know each other and probably have for a long time, since his mom has been visiting the center for a few weeks now.

By the time we part ways with Mr. Taylor, the look of frustration from before is gone.

Outside the center, I hug Grandma and promise to talk to her soon before heading for my car while switching on my phone. A message pops up.

Cole: You done yet?

I reach my car and stop, smiling.

Me: Just finished. On the way home.

Cole: Hurry. I’ve missed you.

I dig my keys out of my purse, open the car and hop on the driver’s seat, grinning wide.

I love that Cole never hides his feelings for me.





“YOU GUYS NEED TO TONE that shit down,” I say without looking at Simon and Megs, opting to speak instead of sign for Megs benefit.

Simon is an only child. His mom is a lawyer and his dad works in consulting for a public relations firm. Both his parents are hardly ever home, so he spends most of his time in Spinners Cafe, Megs’ house and my place. He and I had plans to shoot some zombies on my Playstation. We did for a while. Then Megs called to ask if she could come over and Simon’s concentration went to hell.

They have been making out on the two-seater in my room for the past thirty minutes, while I’ve been obsessively hopping between the window and my bed, waiting for Nor to come home from the center. My hand is starting to cramp from checking my phone for her text message so many times.

I glance up from the latest thriller novel that I bought last week to the couple writhing on the couch to my right and I feel my eyes burn.

Jesus.

Simon’s hand is two seconds away from pulling down Megs panties, given the way her skirt is bunched up on her ass.

I grab the bookmark on the bed and mark the page before shutting the book. “That is it. Get out of my room.”

Simon’s head pops up above Megs’ chest. He pulls his hands from her body long enough to sign, “Leave the room if we are bothering you.”

“Get your ass off my couch, Asshole. If I wanted to watch porn, I would watch my own collection.”

He flips me off, sinks his fingers into Megs’ hair and kisses her neck.

Where the hell is Nor? I need to get out of this hell. I can’t stop thinking about her. My heart speeds up when I think of her and my hands tremble, dying to touch her.

My phone vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket and click on the little envelope on my screen.

Nor: Just finished. On the way home.

Hell-f*cking-yes.

Me: Hurry.

My fingers poise above the screen. Would I look too desperate if I told her I missed her?