Fall (VIP, #3)

by Kristen Callihan

God, he really looks familiar. Not in an, oh, where have you been all my life way. It’s more of a, have you been on the news lately—and please don’t let it be as a possible murder suspect type situation. Sexy beast murderer? Sure. He’s definitely got a bad boy thing going on.

I swear to God, you hit thirty and everyone tries to see you married off. It’s a fucking epidemic.

“Don’t knock love till you try it, kid. Rejecting something out of fear only paints you a fool.”

They say home is where the heart is. I think whoever came up with that little idiom was trying to make themselves feel better.

“You’re telling me this is a coincidence?” That smile grows, curling at the corners like a snake’s. “Apparently so.” A set of keys jangled as he lifts them before my nose. “And I so do live here.” “Well, fuck me sideways,” I mutter without thinking. John grins wide, the look in his eyes positively evil. “Sideways, huh? Is that something you’re into?” “Trust me, that wasn’t a request.” Not really. Well, maybe. Gah, tap it down, Stells.

“Oh, calm down. It’s not like I’m going to start squealing and try to grab your junk.” His expression lightens a little. “I think if you grabbed my junk, I’d be the one squealing.” “True. I have surprisingly strong hands.” When he stares at me in horror, I hold them up and wiggle my fingers. “Yoga. It’s highly effective.” “My balls just flinched in terror.” “Consider yourself warned.”

“Consider the ice cream a housewarming gift.” “Hey, I gave you my cookies. Where’s my thanks?” John runs the back of his finger along his bottom lip. “I know you’re being literal here, but I’m just hearing innuendo.” “Might want to get that hearing checked, detective.”

“Can’t help it. You’re cute as a button, with those round cheeks and all those little freckles. I swear, my first year crush used to have a doll that looked like you. I think she called it Chucky.”

“What’s going on, Jax?” “Just jump right into it, eh?” I walk to my kitchen, pretending like I’m not about to hurl. “No ‘Hello there, Jax, good to see you. How have you been?’” Scottie lifts a brow. “How have you been, Jax?” “Fine, thank you.” “Glad to hear it. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

“That’s it, I’m enrolling all of you in Sex Ed.” From his slouch in the chair, Whip grins wide. “Just give me the CliffsNotes.” “You had those. They’ve clearly left you all woefully undereducated.”

For all her protests, Stella watches with avid interest as I tuck myself into my jeans and pull up the zipper. I don’t bother buttoning. First of all, I know it will piss her off. Secondly, it will piss her off. Her eyes stay locked on that open button, and I place my hands low on my hips, flexing my abs for added fun. “You sure you want me to keep these on?” I ask, fighting a laugh. Her sexpot mouth purses. “You have no shame, do you?” I have tons of shame. Endless fucking shame. But about my body? “Nope.”

Suddenly, I want her to see it, to meet Rye, who I know she’d like. He’d charm her in a second. A frown hits me out of left field. Maybe I don’t really want her cozying up to Rye.

“I’m being chivalrous,” he says in protest. “Seriously, mark the date because this is a first.”

“The last time someone carried me, I was ten,” I murmur. His steps seem to slow as he looks me over, his gaze like a hot stroke on my skin. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips is gentle. “Ah, honey, with those big baby-doll eyes and little freckles, sometimes you do look like a kid.”

“You really are easy to annoy.” “You’re the only person who annoys me.”

“Anyone who sneers at love hasn’t experienced true pleasure and is talking out of his arse.”

“This is why I warned Ms. Grey to keep well out of your path. You say asinine things to nice girls, and it’s left to me to clean up.”

“Is this about Stella’s job?” I stalk closer. “You know about her job?” “Are you suggesting I didn’t thoroughly vet every candidate before giving someone the codes to Killian and Liberty’s house?” He makes it sound like the crime of the century. I wave a hand, swatting that ridiculousness away. “Which means you know.” Scottie’s eyes narrow. “But you don’t.” Damn. Fuck. Damn. “Scottie …” His smile is thin and evil. “Sorry, mate. None of my business.” “You stick that big nose into everyone’s business. Spill, man.” “No. If Ms. Grey doesn’t want you to know, I am not going to tell.” “Gabriel Scott …” He snorts. “The name thing doesn’t work with me, John.” I swear I’ll strangle him. Then I’ll kill him. I can take him. I’ve been working out, whereas he’s been up endless nights dealing with a fussy baby. “Fine, be a prick, then.” “Sounds like you’re the prick in this particular scenario.”

“Fix it, Jax.” He scowls at the trail before us. “I’m utterly serious. Stella Grey is a sweet girl …” I snort. Loudly. “Who deserves respect.” “Yeah, well, I can’t get anywhere near her at the moment. She’s determined to tear my dick off and give it to Stevens as a toy.” Scottie’s mouth curls. “I’d pay good money to see that.” Some friend.

“So that’s why you made that face, like you’d sucked a rotten lemon.” “A rotten lemon?” “Yeah, all green and puckered.” “Wouldn’t that be a lime?” “No. Limes do not carry the sour taste of jealousy.” He wags his brows in goofy triumph. “I am not jealous.” John shrugs, still way too pleased. “It’s okay if you are. I found myself hit with an unexpected wave of it when I saw you with Richard.” Wait. What?

“You have two freckles on your lips. One on the top lip and one on the bottom corner.” Those damn freckles. They were the bane of my adolescence. I hid them with lipstick and silently cursed whenever someone mentioned them. Freckles don’t have any feelings, but I swear it’s as if he’s touching them. “You’re just noticing this?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out weak and thready. His own lips quirk. “Oh, I noticed. It’s distracting as hell. They’re like two little dots of butter toffee. Makes me want to lick them, get a taste.” Oh, God. Lick them, please. I can almost feel it. I want to feel it. No. Bad Stella. Behave. John’s lips part a fraction like he just might take that taste.

“I’ve lived a long while,” she says thoughtfully, “and what I’ve learned is there are people who never make mistakes. They never put their foot in it, always act perfectly. My dear, I don’t trust those people an inch.” A shocked laugh escapes me. “Because they’re nice?” “Because no one who lives honestly is perfect all the time. Those perfect people? They’re often living a lie. A tidy public persona to hide behind.” Her dark eyes glint. “Ever notice on the news, they’ll interview the neighbors of some deranged serial killer, and they’re always insisting he was such a nice, normal man. Ha. Norman Bates wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?”

“There is no such thing as perfect. Human beings make mistakes. Humans who feel greatly often make the biggest ones. It’s the intent that counts. Is it a mistake based on hate, selfishness, or moral cowardice? Give them no quarter. But an honest mistake backed by a true heart is another matter entirely.”

“You have a problem with her being a professional friend?” “No.” If only. I’d prefer that right about now. “It’s not that …” “Then what?” I swear my throat is closing. “Spit it out, John, or I’m returning to shop for strollers.” “I found it adorable, all right?” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s utterly adorable. Something happened to me that I don’t …” Scottie stops and stares at me. I can’t look him in the eye. “I was standing there, looking at her, and she became … more. I couldn’t … I couldn’t think, man. Everything simply …” I wave a hand in annoyance at myself. “Tilted. The world tilted, and there she was. You know?3” A slow, annoying smile spreads over his face. I want to kick him. But I don’t. I brought this on myself. “Yes,” he says, “as a matter of fact, I do know.”

If the choice is to have Stella in my life without sex, or fuck her and leave her, I will pick celibacy with Stella every time. But how do I expose my soul, as flawed as it is, and have any hope that she’d want me too?

“‘We are all fools in love.’” For a second, I gape at him. “Did you just quote Jane Austen?” Scottie snorts. “Mate, you had a copy of Pride and Prejudice4 tucked under your mattress that first road trip we took.” “I was trying to impress women!” “Right. That’s why it was dog-eared and falling apart.” “It was Brenna’s old copy,”

“What do I do?” I blurt out. Scottie gives me a sidelong look. “Invest in a good set of kneepads. I predict a lot of groveling in your future5.”

Success, failure—those are transient states. Fear can throw you for a loop. But loneliness digs its claws in like nothing else. You can be surrounded by friends and still sink into loneliness. It’s fucking awful6.

“If you really wanted to get in, you could just jump over the back wall like I did.” I don’t think he finds my attempt at humor funny right now. But his stiffness eases. “Any time you’re doing yoga naked, let me know, and I’ll hop over that wall in a hurry.” Despite the tightness in my chest, I laugh a little. “I’ll put that at the top of my to-do list.”

“Perhaps you don’t know this but, at heart, I am an Englishman. Learning how to make a proper cuppa is a one of life’s first lessons.”

“You need to leave.” I stand, nearly knocking into the coffee table. “Now, please.” John lurches to his feet as well, his brows winging up. “Leave? Why?” I can’t look at him. “Because I asked you to.” Turning my back to him, I pick up the teacups. “What the hell? What did I do wrong?” You offered to pay me for what I would have done for free. “Nothing.”

“You just proved it. I thought we were becoming real friends—” “We were.” He sounds almost desperate now, a wild look in his eyes as he leans close. “We are!” “Come off it. You wanted to hire me just like all the others.” John runs a hand through his hair, making the ends stick out in all directions. “I said that because I wanted to be close to you and am too emotionally stunted to man up to it. There isn’t anyone I want to be around more than you. You occupy my thoughts, haunt my dreams. I can no more stay away from you than I can try to keep my heart from beating.”

“I’ll feed the pets,” I tell her. Stevens narrows his devil eyes at me as if to say, you better fucking do it or I’ll gut you. I believe it.

“Well, let’s get you showered.” “Alone, rocker boy.” A look of reproach shoots my way. “I’ve already had about ten chances to see you naked today.” John stands and holds out his hand. “Believe me, I have no interest in that.” I stare up at him. “Why? What’s wrong with my body?” He chokes on a laugh. “You’re serious now? Stella Button, your body is fucking gorgeous.” His eyes heat, and he looks me up and down. “Any place, any time you want to get naked for me, I will be there. With fucking bells on. But not when you’re sick. We get naked, it will be when you’re healthy and wanting it. Panting for it.”

“Into the shower with you, Stells. No offense, but you kind of stink.” My head is leaden, and I lean against him even as I nudge his ribs. “Ass.” He smiles as he walks me into the bathroom. “And to think women claim they want total honesty.” “Silence is also appreciated in some situations.”

“The world is sick and sad half the time. You’re just singing its songs, giving a voice to let all those feeling out.”

“We live in a world where people greet each other with ‘How are you?’ But few of us actually want an answer. It’s kind of hilarious if you think about it. We don’t really want to know how someone else is doing, but we want to look as though we do.”

“What I hold onto, what I keep crystal clear, is that moment when I started to fade. I remember how fucking terrified and regretful I felt. I didn’t want to go. Not really. I just wanted to feel okay.3”

“Assure me that you’ll stay away from your usual haunts.” “Jesus, Gabriel. Has lack of sleep addled your brain? You don’t need to lecture me. I don’t have haunts anymore. I’m a damn hermit these days.” “Right,” he says after an awkward pause. “Well, my work here is done then.” Despite myself, I smile with true amusement. “Yeah … It’s been fun.” “You’re a terrible liar, John.” “Don’t John me.” “Did you or did you not just pull a Gabriel on me?” he retorts. “You were being a wanker again.” “Speaking of people who call you John—” “Excellent segue,” I cut in.

“What was your first clue, Fred?” “Fred?” The confusion in his voice makes me laugh. “Out of all the gang, you’d definitely be the one to wear an ascot, so yeah, Fred.” Scottie scoffs. “I’m tempted to say you’d be Shaggy but you’re more the Daphne of the group.” “Fred had the hots for Daphne,” I point out. “This conversation has taken a strange turn and is making my head hurt.” “And my work here is done,” I say proudly. I can visualize him rolling his eyes.

“It comes and goes. I’m on top of the world, then suddenly I’m not.” The warmth of his breath gusts over my breasts. “My therapist warned me. She said it’s an endurance race. You endure. You keep moving forward. But some days, Stella … Some days I get so fucking tired.”

“We’re friends, Stella. We’ve always been, even when you didn’t realize it.”

“Killian was so pissed at me. When I tried. I mean, I get it—” “I’m sorry,” I cut in sharper than I intend, “but Killian can go fuck himself.” John’s shoulders jerk. “Jesus, Stells,” he says with a husky laugh, “don’t hold back.” “I know he’s your friend. But I’m serious. He can fuck right off with that.”

“You know, Stella,” he says when his arms fall loose and relaxed at his sides, “you’re a Mary Poppins.” “Mary Poppins?” I repeat, watching him saunter into the bathroom. “Like a governess?” He stops in the doorway and glances back. “Practically perfect in every way7.”

“I don’t know if John is the one,” I say finally. “But he’s only one I’ve thought about taking a chance on.” Mrs. Goldman straightens and pins me with a look. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“I doubt many people go looking to get a disease. And even if they weren’t acting responsibly, should that matter? Don’t put that shame on them, on yourself. Don’t be one of those people who acts like their shit doesn’t stink, who think that by shaming others who have fucked up or face misfortune, it will protect them from unfortunate things befalling them as well. It’s false comfort at best, and there’s already too much judgment in the world as it is.”

“Stella Button, you annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but I like that you’re willing to fight my battles. Even if you’re fighting me while doing it.”

“Stells,” he whispers, “where have you been all my life?” A lump rises in my throat. “Drifting.” The corner of his lip quirks. “Well, stop. Don’t drift away.” “Okay.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night we met and you stole one from me. I want to learn your flavor, the sounds you make, how you’ll move against me when I taste you.” His eyes go hot, focused on my lips. “I think about your mouth all the time. Those teasing little freckles, the soft curve of your upper lip, the stubborn fullness of your bottom lip.” He husks out a laugh. “Stella Button, it’s downright embarrassing how much I think about kissing you.”

“You didn’t need me before. Now you do.” “You’re wrong if you think I didn’t need you before.”