Fall (VIP, #3)

by Kristen Callihan

The first time I met Jax Blackwood things went a little sideways. In my defense, I didn’t know he was Jax Blackwood—who expects a legendary rock star to be shopping for groceries? More importantly, a blizzard was coming and he was about to grab the last carton of mint-chocolate chip. Still, I might have walked away, but then he smugly dared me to try and take the coveted ice cream. So I kissed him. And distracted that mint-chip right out of his hands. Okay, it was a dirty move, but desperate times and all that. Besides, I never expected he’d be my new neighbor. An annoying neighbor who takes great pleasure in reminding me that I owe him ice cream but would happily accept more kisses as payment. An irresistible neighbor who keeps me up while playing guitar naked–spectacularly naked–in his living room. Clearly, avoidance is key. Except nothing about Jax is easy to ignore—not the way he makes me laugh, or that his particular brand of darkness matches mine, or how one look from him melts me faster than butter under a hot sun. Neither of us believes in love or forever. Yet we’re quickly becoming each other’s addiction. But we could be more. We could be everything. All we have to do is trust enough to fall.

John (aka Jax) is a survivor. He suffers from depression and anxiety. Years ago, he attempted suicide (this is not depicted in the book). It is something that has reshaped the course of his life and affects how he approaches his relationship with Stella. In writing John’s story, I also wanted to show that those who suffer from mental health issues aren’t all gloom and doom. They’re often extremely intelligent, talented, funny, and charismatic people. John is no exception. Hopefully you’ll love him as much as I do. This book is special to me because, like John, I have struggled with depression and anxiety. It is a difficult subject to discuss, and yet the more I open up to others, the more I find that I am not alone. So many suffer in silence. We don’t have to. There are people who want to help. I have tried my best to treat this subject as respectfully and realistically as possible. And while I have consulted with sensitivity readers, and those who have had similar experiences, I

am aware that certain points might not resonate the same with everyone. Any mistakes are my own. Lastly, if you are hurting, please reach out to someone—a friend, a family member, a doctor, or therapist. Reaching out might feel hard but it can make all the difference. —Love Kristen

help arrives? Whatever the case, all that’s left are a few chocolate chip bags and one lonely package of Double Stuf Oreos. Not to worry, my little Double Stuf delights, I’ll find you a good home. I grab the pack and am about to put it in my basket when Mr. Peanut Butter and Chocolate turns the corner. Again? His long stride stutters as he catches sight of me, and his brow lifts a touch as though he too is thinking, you again? He glances at the Oreos in my hand, and his fine lips flatten. Because they are fine, those lips. Well shaped, wide, not too full, not too thin but just … Jesus, I’m gawking at his mouth. And he’s staring. Facing off like gunslingers at the O.K. Corral, the moment holds a beat, one in which heat flares low in my belly and between my legs. Mortified, I turn and flee. Like a wimp. Because a blush is coming on. Bad enough to be caught staring twice. Worse to be caught with my hand in the cookie jar, as it were. I’m all too aware of my ass and its generous proportions as I hurry away past smirking Keebler Elves. Pissed at my self-consciousness, I decide to slow down and work it, putting a little extra sway into the motion. Unsettled by the mini showdown, I hustle while getting tampons and some new body wash, then head for the ice cream aisle. I have plans, and they include cookies, fudge sauce, and my favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream4.