THREE
Fallon—Twelve Years Before
“Mind if I ask what you’re doing up here, lookin’ all sad?” I stepped closer, knowing damn well the look of desperation in her eye.
Couldn’t say I hadn’t felt like that a few times myself.
“Admirin’ the view.” The sweet twang in her words made me smile. “Which I’d like to do in peace, if you don’t mind.”
I stifled a laugh with the back of my hand.
Her eyes averted back to the slow-movin’ water below. “Wonder how many people have jumped into that river.”
“None that have made it, I’d venture to guess.” I moved forward, hopin’ to get in arm’s reach of her in case she took a mind to throw herself over the side. “My pa used to tell me a story when I was a kid ’bout someone gettin’ thrown off this bridge. I always thought he just said it to scare us.” I inched nearer. “Pretty far down, and then the impact alone. Not a good way to go if you ask me.”
Call it instinct, but I felt something in this girl was sad beyond words.
On the outside, she was sweet, a cascade of blond hair and eyes that twinkled with mischief. But behind that mischief, I recognized a tired soul.
A girl who’d seen too much in her short years on this planet.
“Not if you know how to dive. I’d be fine. But—” she sent me a side eye “—if I tried, you’d probably try something heroic like savin’ me.”
I arched an eyebrow, trying to think a step ahead of her. “Hafta.”
I was finally close enough to catch her by the arm if she tried to pull a fast one.
“Can I ask a question?” I leaned close, forcing her gaze on mine.
“As long as it’s not Why would a pretty girl like you want to kill herself?” She took a few steps to gain some distance, eyes on the rushing current again.
“Well, pardon me if that’s the only thing on my mind. So?”
“So? You can be more creative than that.” She was moving closer to the center of the bridge now.
“Fine. Doesn’t the finality of it scare you?”
“What?” Warm walnut eyes hovered on mine.
“Y’know, killin’ yourself. It’s so final. What if you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Happens to me all the time. I don’t think about killin’ myself, though. If anything, I just stay in bed and play guitar all day, take a time-out.”
“So…” She crossed her arms, tilting her head to one side, “You’re questioning my decision-making?”
I nodded. “You’re about the saddest lookin’ girl I’ve ever seen, so absolutely.”
She furrowed her forehead, locking her fists on the rusted railings of the old bridge. “Well, my mind’s made up. I appreciate your efforts at—”
“Saving your life?” I interjected.
“Right. That.” The tip of one flip-flop hung out on the lowest rung now. “But there’s a lot you’re not privy to, and I’d really appreciate it if you could just carry on with your day and leave me to mine.” Both feet on the lowest rung now. Shit, she was really going to do it.
“I’m Fallon.” I jumped across the space that separated us and thrust out my hand.
She arched one quizzical eyebrow before nodding. “Augusta Belle Branson, nice to meet you.”
She smiled once, and in the next blink, she disappeared.
“Fuck,” I grumbled under my breath. “Know your name. Have to save you now.”
I kicked off my heavy boots, knowin’ they’d weigh me down, then gripped the railing and hurled myself over after her.
The trip to the muddy water below wasn’t as far as I’d made it out to be, and I was in the slow-moving current within seconds. I bobbed out of the water, hands moving to feel for any human body under the murky depths around me.
“Augusta!” I called, swimming a few strokes to the cement pilings that held the bridge above the river. Shit, maybe she’d hit her head or broken a leg when she’d fallen against a boulder hidden by the current.
I pushed the water out of my face, squinting against the bright rays of summer sunshine that tried to blind me. Nothing about this day was going to end well, and I’d already woken up with a splitting headache after the hell Dad had put all of us through last night.
The memory of words like useless and no-good not exactly the thing I wanted to be thinkin’ about in my last moments.
“Augusta Belle Branson, if I find you, and there’s a breath left in your body—”
“Are you threatening the victim now?” That honeyed twang warmed my insides.
I spun in the water, seeing her crawl up the bank, cotton clinging to her skinny legs.
Jesus, soakin’ wet and she couldn’t have been more than an even hundred pounds. And she was younger than I’d thought. What kind of shit had driven her here?
I swam to the shoreline, grabbing one of the limestone edges and heaving myself onto the warm stone. “Mind if I ask what the fuck that was about?”
A wry grin curved her lips as she avoided my eyes.
“Good to scare yourself a little every day, I think.”
My gaze locked on hers, that haunted, sad cloud still hovering just beyond the sarcasm. “Scared doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
I shielded my eyes from the unforgiving sun, guessing it wasn’t even noon yet. “That’s a lot of excitement so early on a Sunday morning. Mind if we take a breather while you tell me the real reason you threw yourself like a rag doll off the highest bridge in Chickasaw Ridge?”
She slumped into a sopping wet pile next to me. “Grew up swimmin’ here, and really, it’s not as high as it looks. If you throw yourself off the Whiskey River Bridge expectin’ to meet God, you’d better have the right spot scoped out. You can see clear through to the bottom in most parts. I’ve jumped off all the bridges on the Whiskey River.”
I had to suppress a groan. “Of course you have.”
“What’s that mean?” She pulled out a stick of gum, offered it to me, then popped it in her mouth when I refused.
“I hate to think of what’s next if it takes jumpin’ bridges to thrill you now at…how old are you?”
She stopped chewing the gum, expressive eyes leveled on mine. “Nunya.”
“Are conversations with you always this…informative?”
She grinned, chewed the gum, and then twisted the end around her ring finger, stretching the goo and then snapping it back into her mouth. “Only with strangers.”
“Interesting. Even strangers who save your life?”
“News flash, dude. Didn’t need saving.” She inched closer to the ledge, dipping one red-painted toe in the dark water.
“But I was willin’ to. And let’s not forget you told me your name before you launched over like a bat out of hell.” I shrugged. “Thought that meant we were friends. Which, you see, obligated me to go in after you.”
She ticked her head to the side, lips curving. “Fine.” She slugged me in the bicep. “I’ll give you that one.”
I suppressed the urge to eye roll before she turned back to the murky water. “Hope we don’t get a flesh-eating disease out of that muddy cesspool.”
Augusta Belle’s laughter carried on the wind, leaves rustling around us before the sun ducked behind a cloud, casting a chill. She shivered, running her palms up her tiny upper arms.
“We should go get changed. I can walk you home if you want.” I held out a hand.
She glanced at my outstretched palm, licks of dark ink peeking out from under my sleeve. Her eyes closed for a breath before they landed back on the water again, and she shook her head. “I’m good here. The sun will be back.”
I dropped my hand, studying her profile, wondering again what brought a girl like her up here.
Maybe I was wrong, maybe she hadn’t exactly been plannin’ on killin’ herself, so she said anyway. But that didn’t shake the cloud of sadness that cast a shadow in those pretty eyes.
“Gonna make me stay here all day and babysit you from jumping back in that river?” I teased, dipping my toes in alongside her.
“Babysit?” She cast me a sideways glare. “Hardly. But you are welcome to hang out. It just so happens I think you’re worthy of my company because, y’know, you tried to save me and all. Figure we were meant to be friends.”
“That so?”
She nodded without glancing at me. “No one ever goes up on that bridge since the Tallahatchie was built. That’s why I picked it.” Her honey-brown irises lingered on mine. “While everyone was singin’ in church, sending their praise above, I was supposed to be floatin’ in that river. But I’m not. You know why? Because of you, Fallon Gentry. Of all the days, of all the moments, you showed up in my life.”
She wrapped her tiny fingers around my wrist and tugged me a little closer to her.
I huffed, pretendin’ she wasn’t havin’ the effect on me she did. “I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Augusta Belle Branson.”