Page 16 of The Upside of Falling
Not able to let this go, I chase after him and wheedle my way in front of the bedroom door before he can leave.
A deep, heavy sigh escapes him as he spins around, gripping the back of his neck, his bicep a boulder stretching out the fabric of his shirt.
“Damn it, Rory, just let me go. I’m going to tell you right now, there is nothing here worth waiting for.”
“Why don’t you let me make that assessment myself?”
He shakes his head and faces me. Distraught and confused, his shoulders tense, his lips press into a thin line. “What do you even want to do with me? I’ve barely been a decent human to you all night. You should be downstairs enjoying yourself, not up here with a guy closing himself off from you.”
“I want to talk to you, Colby. I want to get to know you.”
He laughs, but it’s not the kind of laugh that’s filled with humor; it’s more menacing, doubtful. “You want to get to know me? Fine.” He holds up his hand and starts ticking off his fingers. “I’m a senior at the Air Force Academy. I’m waiting for my acceptance into flight school, and once I get that, I’m out of here. I have one goal in life, and it’s to be a fighter pilot. I don’t have time for anything but school and my studies. Despite how goddamn beautiful you are, inside and out, I can’t let myself get distracted from my goal, and you’re a distraction. A huge distraction, the kind of distraction I know will turn my world upside down.” He shakes his head. “I can’t afford to be distracted, Rory.” His voice softens. “I can’t.”
Stepping toward him, unable to stop myself, I press my hand against his chest. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, his eyes fall to mine, his body tensing, the beat of his heart running wild beneath my palm.
“I just want to talk.”
Holding his breath, he shakes his head. “Talking is what’s going to destroy me.” Taking my hand in his, he lowers it to my side and pushes past me. “I suggest you leave me alone, Rory. Trust me. Stay away.”
Walking out of the bedroom, his shoulders slumped, his hand in his short hair, Colby leaves me. I have so many questions running through my head. The most prominent one iswhy?Why did he become so intense? Why does he believe he needs me to stay away? In many respects, I admire his resolve. But his words keep rattling around in my mind . . .
Despite how goddamn beautiful you are, inside and out, I can’t let myself get distracted from my goal, and you’re a distraction.I can understand not wanting a distraction, but what I can’t understand is why I would be that to him.
Unfortunately for him, I’m not done.Hethinks I’m beautiful, and I’m far from done with him.
Chapter Seven
COLBY
Ten years old . . .
“Take this box to the curb, will you?” Mom places a box full of Dad’s clothes in my hands. This morning, she wandered around the house gathering all of Dad’s things, stuffing them in boxes. It feels like she’s clearing out every memory I have of him.
It’s been a week since we buried him next to Grandma. Only a week. Gramps hasn’t been around. Mom says he’s sad and can’t bear to be around me since I look just like Dad.
I called him yesterday, but he didn’t answer. I left him a message asking him to call me back, or come visit me.
“Hurry up, Colby. I need all these boxes out of the house.”
“Why are you getting rid of Dad’s things?” I ask, feeling a lump in my throat starting to form. “Don’t you miss him?”
Frustrated, she huffs out a long breath and snaps at me. “Of course I miss him, but we have to say bye and move on. We’re moving on, Colby.”
“But . . . I don’t want to move on, Mom. I don’t want to forget Dad.”
“Colby, I don’t have time for this,” she yells. “Take the goddamn boxes to the curb or I’ll take all your planes and shove them in the trashcan along with your dad’s belongings.”
Tears welling up in my eyes, my throat so tight I can’t breathe, I scurry out of my mom’s room before she can see how much I care about my planes. It’s not the first time she’s used them against me, that she’s punished me by taking them away, or threatened to throw them away. I’ve gotten smart now, and I hide some of them in the attic. She doesn’t know because she doesn’t go up there. When I told Dad about my little secret, he squeezed my hand and told me my secret was safe with him.
Moving down the hallway, I look behind me to see if Mom is watching. The coast is clear, so I take the box into my room and start digging through it, like I did with the other boxes, only keeping some of the things that are most important to me.
So far, I have Dad’s wallet, his Air Force sweatshirt he got from Gramps, and his watch. Scanning through the box, sifting through the clothes, I spot Dad’s old college gym shorts. I bring them close to my chest, remembering all the days before he got sick when he came home from racquetball wearing these bright red shorts and a huge smile on his face. After pressing a kiss to Mom’s lips, he then tackled me to the floor where he tickled me for what seemed liked forever.
Stashing them away with my other things, I do another dig, wanting to keep it all but knowing I can’t. Mom will know and use Dad’s things against me as well. Only the most important items can stay with me.
Closing the box, I peek out my door before hustling down the stairs, taking the box to the curb with the rest of his stuff. This feels so wrong. I want my dad to come back. Why do we have to throw his things away? Will they be buried with him? I hate this. I hate that he died and left me. I close my eyes, channeling my dad to the forefront of my mind, and tell him I’m sorry. A car suddenly pulls into the driveway, the sharp turn it made scaring me into the grass.
From my perched position, music booms through the car, loud and obnoxious, the smooth-looking car unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The engine dies down, and a polished loafer steps onto the concrete of the driveway. Rounding the front of the car, Dr. Ted surveys the house, straightens his tie, and then tucks his sunglasses through his button-up shirt. His loafers clack along the sidewalk leading to the house. He doesn’t see me as he makes his way to the front, walking in without knocking or ringing the doorbell.
