The Fall Up (The Fall Up, #1)(31)

He dodged it.

It was very anticlimactic.

“You’re lucky I love you,” I warned, stepping into a pair of black pumps.

Henry cleared his throat. “Wedges.”

I glared at him for several seconds but eventually stepped to the side and slid the nude wedges on instead.

“In all seriousness, Levee. I’m not sure a new boyfriend is what you need right now. But I certainly am not going to stop you. Reach out to him. Give him the chance to tell you to f*ck off.”

I flinched. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.

“Orrrr…more than likely so he can apologize too. Have you stopped to think he might be feeling just as weird about the way things went down as you are? So what if he hasn’t popped up on your doorstep like some lost puppy. That doesn’t mean he isn’t wishing you’d show up on his.”

God, I hated when Henry made sense.

But what I really hated was knowing he made sense and being too afraid to listen to his advice.

“I have to go. I’m going to be late.” I scrunched my hair one last time in the mirror before heading to the door.

“You’re being ridiculous!” he called after me.

“See you in two hours. I’ll bring back dinner,” I replied as if he hadn’t spoken.

“No sushi!”

“Then no dinner!”

I smiled when I heard him curse.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I found Devon waiting for me with a wide smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said warmly.

“Thanks.”

“You know he’s just going to ask me to get him something besides sushi, right?” Devon said, fishing his phone from his pocket. He turned it to face me and lifted his fingers in the air to count down from three. No sooner had he tucked the last digit away than a text appeared on his phone.

Henry: Can you bring me back something to eat that doesn’t taste like it washed up on a radioactive beach?

I burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?” I asked as he shoved the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the text completely.

“I’ve learned not to ask with Henry,” he replied, using a hand at the small of my back to usher me out the door.




“Levee!” Morgan squealed when I walked into her hospital room.

“Hey there, pretty girl. How have you been?” I replied as my heart wrenched in my chest.

Little wires still dangled off her body, but her nasal cannula was gone and her color seemed somewhat better.

Her mother stood from a chair tucked away in the corner and extended her hand for a shake. I hugged her instead.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was thinking about Miss Morgan tonight.” I squeezed her blanket-covered foot. “So I decided to come up here and see how things were going before I head out of town for a while.”

“Wow. That’s so sweet of you. We weren’t expecting to see you again. I’m glad you came though. Morgan’s been wanting to say thank you for all of the Henry Alexander stuff you left at the nurses’ station.”

“Aww. That was no problem. Henry was happy to do it. I promise I’ll drag him up here one day. He’s not big on hospitals, something about the nurses not letting him eat all the red Jell-O,” I teased.

Morgan rewarded me with a giggle. “I made Henry a thank-you card. Could you…maybe…give it to him for me?” she asked nervously.

“Of course! He’ll love it.”

I laughed as she all but clapped in celebration.

“Mom! Get the card!”

“On it!” Her mom, whose name my frazzled brain couldn’t remember, smiled as she moved to the other side of the bed. “Where’d you put it, sweetheart?”

“I put it between two books on my shelf to keep the glitter from falling out.”

“Ohhhhh, Henry loves glitter,” I exaggerated with wide eyes.

That time, she actually did clap.

Her mother laughed as she walked to the other side of the room. My eyes found her destination even before she did.

A familiar hollowed-out guitar filled with books leaned against the wall.

“Where… How…” I gasped as my heart pounded in my chest. “Is that a guitar bookshelf?” I asked as if it were an oasis in the desert that only I could see.

“Yep,” Morgan chirped from her bed behind me.

I stood frozen in the middle of the room, but for the way my chest ached, I might as well have been transported back to the top of the bridge.

“Oh God,” I breathed.

“Pretty cool, huh. My uncle Sam made it for me,” Morgan prattled on, oblivious to my impending emotional breakdown.

“Levee,” her mother called, forcing me to drag my attention away from the guitar. “Everything okay?”

“Did…um…Sam Rivers happen to make that?”

“Yeah. Jeez. That little punk must be doing better than I thought for you to recognize one of his pieces.”

“Actually…I know him. He showed me a picture of that bookcase on his phone once.” I cleared my throat to keep the quiver out of my voice.

“You know Uncle Sam?”

“Seriously?”

They gasped in unison.