Falling Under (34 page)

We devolve into kissing, heedless of the thousands of people watching.
 

I hear Daddy talking. “I can’t ask you to marry me again, Nelly baby, but I can tell you how perfect the last twenty years have been. I can tell you that I love you now infinitely more than I did then. And I can tell you that I’ll spend every moment of the next twenty years loving you that much more.”

The crowd can’t even handle it. They’re completely wild, apoplectic with glee. Finally, Oz and I have to pull away before it gets too heated.
 

Mom is crying, too, and she grabs the mic from Oz. “You know what’s funny is that I didn’t let Colt finish his proposal, either. Like mother, like daughter, huh?”
   

She looks at Oz. “Your last name isn’t Calloway, but Oz, you are so much like my husband that it’s a little scary sometimes. And I really couldn’t think of anyone better to marry my daughter than you.”
 

Her attention goes to Colt. “Baby…you’re so perfect it makes me dizzy sometimes. I love you so much I don’t even know how to express it, and I really never have. I’ve spent my life trying to show you how much I love you, and I’ve never been able to get it right. And I’m just thankful I’ve got the rest of our lives to keep trying.”
 

I snatch the microphone from Mom. “My turn. Ya’ll are so romantic it’s almost sick. But I love you. Oz, all I can say is I’m just as much under your spell, and I’m so glad you didn’t let me seduce this secret out of you.” Mom and Dad both roll their eyes at this, but I keep going. “Mom and Dad…just thank you. For everything. And to you guys, our fans? Thanks for sitting through all this. For supporting us on this tour, and for demanding this amazing hometown show.”

The crowd hasn’t stopped cheering all this time, but now they ratchet up the intensity until it’s deafening. The four of us stand up and take hands, face the crowd, and bow together, and it takes a full ten minutes before the crowd seems ready to let us go.

We’re all giddy and overwhelmed with adrenaline as we make our way off-stage, and as soon as we’re out of sight of the audience, I turn and leap into Oz’s arms.
 

“I can’t believe you!” I bury my face in his neck. “That was perfect. So perfect.”

He just laughs. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it. But your dad assured me that you’re enough like your mom that you’d appreciate a proposal like that. I just didn’t think a proposal over dinner would be as special.”

“I loved it.”

He grins, and then lets me down. “I have one more surprise for you, actually.”

“You do? What?” I can’t imagine what else there is to be surprised by.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “You know that little house we saw?”

Before the tour started, Oz and I were taking a drive together. We ended up getting lost in the suburbs, and we came across this adorable little house for sale. I got out and peeked in through the windows, and got all girly about it. I had this fantasy of us buying it, and even tried to convince Oz that we should. He seemed to brush it off, saying we weren’t ready for that yet, and I let it go. Mostly. I may or may not have looked at it online every so often over the past few months, stalking it on Zillow to see if it was still for sale.
 

“Yeah?” I ask, feeling excitement thrill through me.

He puts the keys in my hand. “It’s ours.”

“
Really
?” My voice is shockingly shrill, and I have to rein it in. “I mean…ahem, really? You bought it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. I had…help, though.”

Daddy comes over. “Happy engagement, baby.”

That Oz let my dad help him buy me a house…it’s…unbelievable. I don’t know who to hug first, so I end up hugging them both. “You two…I love you so much.”

“Love you too, babe,” Oz and Dad say in perfect sync.
 

I can only laugh, and try not to cry for the third time in less than twenty minutes. “When do we move in?”

“I’ve got a truck rented for tomorrow to get my stuff from my apartment and whatever you need from home,” Oz says.
 

Kate appears beside me, pulls me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you two. It’ll be lonely in that apartment without Oz.”

Oz rolls his eyes and tugs his mom to him. “You know we’ll visit, Mom. And you know you’re always welcome. Just not…you know,
too
often.”

Kate sniffs and pats Oz’s chest. “I know, baby.”

After that things get crazy, with the crew congratulating us and Andersen trying to shake everyone’s hand at once, and the promo manager telling us we’ve got a massive lineup for autographs waiting. Through it all, I can’t stop looking at the ring on my finger, and imaging how amazing it will be to live with Oz all the time.
 

Pretty amazing, I think.

In the car, finally alone, I stop Oz from putting it into drive. “You’ve made my life perfect, Oz. I know you said I rescued you, but…you rescued me, too. Now I get to live with you? How can it get any better?”

“I don’t think it can,” Oz says. He kisses me. “Oh…it can. Let’s go home, and I’ll show you.”

PLAYLIST

“Monolith” by Stone Sour

“We Stitch These Wounds” by Black Veil Brides
 

“Home Sweet Hole” by Bring Me the Horizon

“Life of Uncertainty” by It Dies Today

“Breaking Out, Breaking Up” by Bullet for My Valentine
 

“I’m Still a Guy” by Brad Paisley
 

“Goodbye Town” by Lady Antebellum

“Four on the Floor” by Lee Brice

“Hell on Wheels” by Brantley Gilbert

“The Sadness Will Never End” by Bring Me the Horizon

“In Place of Hope” by Still Remains

“A Beast Am I” by Amon Amarth

“Freedom Hangs Like Heaven” by Iron & Wine

“Come On Get Higher” by Matt Nathanson

“Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran

“Cannery River” by Green River Ordinance
 

“Down” by Jason Walker

“Set Fire to the Third Bar” by Snow Patrol (feat. Martha Wainwright)

“She Is Love” by Parachute

“Love Is a Verb” by John Mayer

“Let Her Go” by Passenger

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

This book was somewhat tricky to write, in a sense. It takes place when the children of Nell and Colt and Jason and Becca are grown. Obviously, then, it takes place about eighteen years after the events of
Falling Into You
and
Falling Into Us
, making it the theoretical future. But, in order to follow the pattern of the first two books, I had to include music, which is vital to the core of these stories. I had to use music that would capture the personalities of the characters, capture the heartbeat of the story, match the prose and the rhythm. The songs referenced in this story, then, are from our time, the present. Inventing pop culture and indie songs from “the future” wouldn’t have had the same effect. They had to be songs that you could look up on YouTube, iTunes, Grooveshark, Spotify, or wherever. They are meant to feel like current references to songs Oz and Kylie would have been familiar with, however anachronistic this may technically be.
 

As for Oz’s music…it may not be for everyone. It’s far from the style of music I typically use in my books, so I know some—if not most—of my readers may not enjoy it, or understand it. It’s heavy metal and various subgenres thereof. It’s Oz’s music, important to him, central to the way he emoted through most of the book. Including it was necessary for me, as the author, to get into Oz’s head, into the soul of who he was. I have to extend thanks to my brother-in-law for the band suggestions, even though I know he probably won’t ever read this book, or this note. Thanks anyway.

Continue reading for an excerpt from
 

ALPHA

Coming in April from

Jasinda Wilder

“Miss St. Claire. Come in, please.” My boss, Mr. Edwards, waved a hand at the two chairs facing his desk. “Have a seat, Kyrie.” He says it wrong, as always, pronouncing it
Kye-ree.

“My name is
Keer-ee
,” I couldn’t help correcting him for what must be the eighteen thousandth time.

Mr. Edwards slid into his modern black leather desk chair, and then unbuttoned his suit coat. “Yes. Of course.” He tugged at the cuffs of his pressed white button-down shirt, cleared his throat. “Well, Miss St. Claire, I’ll cut right to the chase. We’re letting you go, I’m afraid. It’s nothing to do with you — it’s simply that we’re streamlining our workflow, and as the newest, and least experienced, member of our team…well, your services have become somewhat superfluous.”

I blinked. Twice. Three times. “I’m…what?”

“Superfluous. It means—”

“I
know
what superfluous means. I just don’t understand how this is happening. Just last week Don said I was next in line for a permanent position—”

Mr. Edwards cut me off with a raised hand. “Don was incorrect, and I do apologize for the misunderstanding. You see, Don had a rather unfortunate habit of making promises he had no authority to make, and no wherewithal to keep them. He, too, has been let go.” A discreet clearing of his throat indicated the subject was closed. He opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope. “Your final paycheck, Miss St. Claire. It includes a two-week severance allowance. You’ll clear out your desk immediately. Should you require a referral, you may submit a request in writing through the appropriate channels.”

I shook my head. “No, please—Mr. Edwards, you can’t do this. I need this job, you don’t even know. I’ve never been late, never failed to do my job better than anyone else in my pool. Please, give me a chance—”

“Miss St. Claire. Begging will not change the facts. It has been done. You were assigned to us through a temp agency. Temp, meaning
temporary
. As I said, this isn’t a punishment. We are not firing you—we are simply letting you go now that your position is no longer necessary. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a conference call in a few moments.” Mr. Edwards arched an eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Fine.” I stood up, smoothing my navy pencil skirt over my hips, turning away. “Prick.”

“Excuse me?” Mr. Edwards rose to his feet, a fist clenched at his side. “What did you say?”

I lifted my chin. “I said,
prick
.” I used the same condescending tone he so often affected. “It’s a derogatory term meaning penis. Meaning, you…are…a…dick.” I turned away again, and grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.

I was stopped by a hand on my wrist. “Now, now, Miss St. Claire. You don’t want to go name-calling, do you? I can very easily call your temp agency and make sure you never work in their pool again.” His fingers tightened on my wrist, and I felt his breath on my neck. “And…you know, there may be
one
way you could keep your job. Possibly even get that permanent position you mentioned.”

I felt him press up against me, felt the evidence of what he wanted from me. And, I won’t lie, the thought crossed my mind. Once. Very, very briefly. I needed this job. I was already two months behind on rent, three months behind on my electric bill, barely keeping up with my tuition and my brother’s, plus the ever-mounting costs of caring for Mama. I could do what this doucheknob wanted, and keep my job. It wouldn’t take long. A few unpleasant minutes, if that long. He was old, past sixty, I’d guess. Fit enough for his age, but by no means virile.
 

But…no matter how desperate I might be,
that
would never happen. Not like this. Not with this guy. If he was hot, and I wanted to, maybe. If it was a kick-ass job that really paid the bills. But it was a temp job. Hourly, and a shitty hourly rate at that. Barely enough to cover
one
bill, much less all the bills I had to pay.

I turned, letting him hold on to my wrist. For the moment. I lifted my eyes to his, putting on my best poker face. “Yeah? Just like that? That easy, huh? Suck you off, and you’ll let me keep my job? Let you fuck me over the desk, and I’ll get the permanent position, too, I bet.”

He missed the dangerous calm in my voice. “Now you’re thinking.” He licked his lips, lifted a finger to touch the apex of my cleavage, what little of it I had showing in this conservative work outfit. “You’re a very attractive young lady, Miss St. Claire. I’m sure we could come to an agreeable arrangement.”
 

God, I hated the arch, faux-formal way he spoke. “An agreeable arrangement.” I forced down my revulsion, just for a few more seconds. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Edwards?”

My spine crawled with disgust as his eyes leered and his tongue flicked out over his thin, pale lips. He made short work of his belt, and I heard the telltale
zzzzhhrip
of his zipper going down. I didn’t look, didn’t want to see what he’d just pulled out.
 

“Well, let’s just see how you do, and we’ll go from there.” He leaned back against the edge of his desk, a greedy smirk on his face. “And…unbutton the blouse a bit.”

I toyed with the button of my shirt, staring into his sludge-brown eyes. “You want a little show, huh, Mr. Edwards?” I freed the top button, which I would’ve done on the elevator anyway. I felt my breasts loosen a bit, no longer quite so constricted. His eyes devoured the expanse of cleavage. “How’s this?”

“Very nice. But…how about a bit more?”
 

I nodded, as if this was perfectly reasonable, still refusing to look down at his crotch. And then, without warning, I snapped my head forward, felt my forehead connect with his nose, felt cartilage break. I stepped away as crimson blood sluiced from his nose. “How about
fuck you
, Mr. Edwards?” I left him bleeding, sagging against his desk. I shuddered as I caught an accidental glimpse of his wrinkled, veiny, now-flaccid penis hanging over his zipper. “God, I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that.”

I opened his door and walked out, glanced down at my shirt, and cursed as I realized I had a few droplets of blood on my blouse. I stopped in the women’s room and dabbed cold water onto the droplets, then retrieved my belongings from my desk. I didn’t have much to get, a few granola bars, some spare tampons, and—most importantly—my framed photo of Mom, Dad, my younger brother Cal, and me. It was taken several years ago.
Before
. Before Dad was murdered. Before Mom got sick. Before I went from innocent, naïve, privileged college girl to primary breadwinner for three people, one of whom didn’t even recognize me most days. Before life went completely down the drain, putting all my dreams out of reach, leaving me desperate, exhausted, stressed, and frustrated.