Before We Fall

“OK,” I agree. “I’ll give you space. I’m sorry, Brand.”



I feel utterly sad as I walk out to my car, but I have to admit that I feel stronger. Being with Brand always makes me feel stronger. He knows me. He’s always known me. There’s comfort in familiarity like that. I hate that I can’t give him what he needs, and in a weird way, that only makes me feel closer to Dom.



Because I know how he feels.



He can’t give me what I need, either.



Sighing, I blink my tears away and drive into the night.



Chapter Twenty-Six



Dominic



The world is unraveling.



After I arrive a few hours late and receive a firm chastising from the director, I go through the motions on-set, then fly back to Chicago, then go to work at the gym. The entire time, I can’t feel anything. I’m utterly numb. But when I walk into the gym, my breath catches, because for the first time in days I feel something.



The desire to see Jacey.



And when I do see her, when I bump into her, she turns away like I’m not there, like I don’t even exist, exactly the way I’ve treated her a hundred times in the past. And that moment is when I know why the world is falling to shit.



I need her.



I need her in my life. I knew I wanted her before, but to know that I need her is something entirely different, something terrifying, and the mere thought causes my heart to pound. The problem is, she doesn’t need me. She’s barely acknowledges my presence, barely glances at me.



She’s definitely learned the art of being detached from its best practitioner.



Me.



Being on the receiving end of such iciness is complete shit. For the first time in years, my heart fucking hurts… because I’ve opened it up to that. It’s an aching reminder of why I’ve always shut myself off, away from people.



It isn’t worth the pain.



I look around as I wipe off the counters in the kitchen, musing about how much has changed in a few weeks time. I just finished making twenty peanut butter sandwiches and wrapping them in foil. Why?



Because Joe insists on sending sandwiches home with the boys, because so many of them don’t have enough to eat. Why does this signify change? Because I just found myself making a mental note to buy some pre-charged debit cards to send home with some of them for groceries. They shouldn’t have to worry about eating.



But this isn’t something I would even have thought of a month ago.



Just like how a month ago, my heart wouldn’t be hurting. It would be safe and sound in its cage of ice. I’m not sure what’s better.



Jacey sticks her head into the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts and talking to me for the first time since we arrived this morning.



“Hey, have you seen the ladder?” she asks me quietly, hesitantly. She glances around the kitchen for it at the same time I do.



“No,” I tell her needlessly. “It’s not here.”



She starts to turn away, but I say her name and she looks back at me. She pauses in the doorway hesitatingly, her eyes saying what her lips won’t.



I trusted you. But it was a mistake and I won’t do it again.



It gives me pause and I close my mouth, swallowing all of the words that I’d wanted to say.



I’m conflicted. I might need her, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give her what she needs.



She looks impatient, but all I can do is shake my head. “Never mind.”



She turns and walks away, but not before I see the disappointment flash across her face.



To distract myself from thinking about her, or about the fact that I might’ve let the only good person that I know in the world slip through my fingers, I pile the sandwiches in several neat stacks and fold napkins to go with them.



As I fold the last napkin, I hear a commotion coming from the gym. Curious, I head out to see what’s going on, only to find a crowd of boys congregated around the ladder in the middle of the room. Some are kneeling, some are standing, but they’re all in a circle around something.



My heart starts pounding as I see Jacey’s pink tennis shoe poking through the legs.



Shoving through the crowd, I get there just as Joe does.



Jacey is motionless on the floor, and my heart stops as I stare down at her limp form. She’s crumpled on the floor, utterly still, her face devoid of color, her eyes closed.



Holy fuck. I can’t breathe. Because I can’t lose her. Because she doesn’t deserve this.



Because I can’t do this again.



“What the hell happened?” Joe barks as he kneels down beside her. I’m motionless, frozen, as I stare at her still body.



“She was changing the light bulb like you asked,” Tig explains quickly. “But she tripped coming back down the ladder. I think she hit her head on the cement.”



“Jesus,” Joe mutters as he feels her head. “That’s a big lump. Someone call an ambulance.” No one moves, so he barks, “Now!”



Jake bolts for the office and I’m finally able to move.



I woodenly shove through the boys and drop to my knees beside her. I grab her hand and her fingers are so cold. The coldness sends panic rippling through me, and I shake her shoulder. Hard.



“Jacey, wake up,” I tell her firmly, my heart firmly lodged in my throat. “Wake up.”



She doesn’t even twitch.



This can’t be happening again.



“Jacey,” I shake her. “Jacey.”



I’m panicked now, overwhelmed by emotion and déjà vu, so much so that I can’t think straight. The last time I was in this situation it didn’t end well.



It can’t happen this time.



This time, all I can think is that I need to make Jacey wake up, no matter what it takes. I squeeze her hand and shake her shoulder, chanting her name.



“Be careful, son,” Joe advises. “You shouldn’t move her neck.”



“I’m not your son,” I tell him without even looking up. “She needs to wake up.”



“Yes,” Joe agrees calmly. “She does. But don’t move her.”



I ignore him and shake her lightly one more time, and we’re both surprised when she opens her eyes. A thrill like a jolt of electricity ripples through me.



“Dominic?” she asks groggily, staring at me with blurry eyes, trying to focus. “What happened?”



The relief that floods me is overwhelming. Thank Christ.



“You fell,” I tell her softly. “And you hit your head, but you’re going to be fine. We’re going to take you to the hospital.”



“An ambulance is on the way,” Jake calls out, jogging over from the office. “Did you trip on your bad foot, Jace?” he asks, kneeling next to me and staring down at Jacey.



She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t know.”



Guilt eats at me because I didn’t even know her foot was still bothering her. What I do know is she hurt her foot in the first place because of me. Protecting me.



I sit with her wordlessly, holding her hand until the paramedics arrive. They load her onto a gurney and roll her into the back of the ambulance, where I insist on riding with her. She’s still disoriented, and I can’t stand the thought of sending her away alone.



“Are you a family member?” one of them asks, staring at me curiously. I see the realization when it dawns. “Aren’t you Dominic Kinkaide?”



“Yeah,” I nod. “I’m her brother.”



Jacey’s eyes are fluttering closed again. At this point and the EMT looks at me, knowing that I’m lying but not questioning my words. “Keep your sister awake,” she instructs. “I’m going to start an IV.”



I squeeze Jacey’s hand.



“Jace, you’ve got to stay awake. Let’s talk about the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier. Or about racing. Do you want to go back out to the track?”



“Not with you,” she tells me groggily, her eyelids fluttering. “I’m not going anywhere with you again, Dom. You’re fucking toxic.”



The EMT glances at me as she pushes a syringe into an IV line. “She’s probably confused. It’s common with head injuries.”



Jacey’s not confused. At all. She’s never made more sense. But her words have never been more painful.



“It’s okay, Jace,” I tell her. “We’ll talk about this when you feel better. For now, you’ve got to stay awake. You hit your head hard. You picked one of the only spots that isn’t covered with a mat to fall on. You probably should’ve planned that a little better.”



She doesn’t crack a smile. Her eyes stay closed, but I know she’s awake because she’s still squeezing my hand from time to time.



I talk with her the entire ride to the hospital, but when we arrive, they wheel her away on the squeaky gurney and make me stay in the waiting room.



The emergency room waiting area seems like a wasteland for lost souls. People are hunched over and tired, people are sick, people are curled up and sad. It sucks the energy out of me, and I hunker down in my seat, hoping no one recognizes me. I’m definitely not in the mood for that.



I keep my nose buried in tattered magazines until I’m called back an hour later.



“You’re her brother?” the doctor asks. I nod. What’s another lie in the scheme of things?



“Your sister has a mild concussion. She’s actually really lucky, because from what I was told, she fell from rather high up. We can keep her overnight, but she’d be more comfortable in her own bed. The thing is, she shouldn’t be alone. Would you or someone else be able to stay with her? Wake her up every couple of hours to make sure that she’s lucid? If she acts out of it, or if you can’t wake her, call an ambulance. Do you feel comfortable with that?”



I nod. “Of course. I’ll stay with her myself.”



The doctor smiles tiredly. “Great. I’ll get her paperwork ready and she’ll be ready to go soon.”



More waiting.



The clock ticks slowly on and I sigh. Apparently, it doesn’t make it go any faster to watch it.



I get a cup of shitty hospital coffee, arrange for Jacey’s bill to be sent to me, and am back in the waiting room by the time a nurse comes wheeling her out. Jacey looks disgruntled and she hasn’t even seen me yet.



“I don’t need anyone to babysit me,” she grumbles to the nurse as I get to my feet. I have to smile at her attitude.



The nurse looks at me in relief, probably anxious to get Jacey off her hands.



“Your brother is here to take you home. He’s going to watch you tonight.”



Jacey’s head snaps up and she looks around.



“Gabe’s here?” she asks, and it pains me to hear the excitement in her voice. I hate to be the one to disappoint her.



“No, it’s just me,” I tell her. “I’m going to sit with you tonight.”



She stares at me, her expression falling like a stone, but she doesn’t reveal my lie to the nurse. She waits until exactly five minutes later when we’re in my car alone to rip into me.



“What the fuck?” she snaps as I drive out of the parking garage and toward her little house. “You think you can take advantage of me when I’m down? Really? That’s how you operate? I don’t want you to stay with me, Dominic.”