Page 34 of The Upside of Falling
I fucking did it.
There is silence on the other end of the phone and for a second, I think I lost him . . . until I hear a sniffle. “Colby, that’s . . . that’s so great.”
My throat grows even tighter. Gramps is the only person I really wanted to tell, the only one who’s been there for me from the very beginning, encouraging me, and telling me no goal is too hard for me to accomplish.He’s the positive voice I’ve attempted to hear over the negative.
“I’m still in shock. You’re my first and only call, Gramps. You were the one who encouraged me, who told me I could do it if I put my mind to it. You were the driving force behind this.” He’s the only one I want to share this with.
“I did nothing. This was all on you, Colby.” He sniffs again. “I’m so proud of you, son, and your father would be too. He would be so damn proud of the man you’ve become.”
I squeeze my eyes shut again, but allow the tears of pure joy to run down my cheeks. “I know he would be.”
“When are you going to stop by? Classes are over? Bring me some pizza, and we can celebrate.”
“How about this weekend? I’m staying with Stryder, but I’m sure he’ll want some time to himself.”
“Did he get in?”
I pause, feeling the weight of his hurt on my shoulders. “He didn’t.”
"Oh no. No wonder you think Stryder will want time alone. Yes. Come this weekend. I'm always here for you."
And that I know with all my heart. I'm still in shock that Stryder didn't make it.
And for the life of me, I don’t know how to talk to him about it. When he found out, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at any of us. Instead, he walked off toward his dorm, silence in his every step like a man walking the plank to face the beast before him. In this case, his dad.
Chapter Fifteen
RORY
When Ryan and I drove to the bowling alley a few weeks ago knowing Colby would be there, I was nervous, probably more nervous than I’ve been in a long time. There was a shake to my hand, a tremble in my step, a flutter in my stomach, but it was nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now.
It’s like a tumultuous storm is brewing in the pit of my stomach, skyrocketing my nerves into overdrive. I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m shaky, and I’m every mixed emotion you could imagine.
This is Colby, the man I met over Thanksgiving, the man I’ve felt so attracted to—as if there’s a place in my soul that’s simply his. I’ve slowly been able to dig under his wall and reach a part of him I feel no one else has been able to penetrate. I want to make sure my feelings aren’t just a fantasy written out on pieces of paper or conjured up in my head. I want to make sure they’re real. So damn real, that when I’m around him, I’m sucked into our own little universe.
Stepping out of my car, I adjust the scarf I have under my green wool coat while taking in the giant red rock formations that are a famous landmark in Colorado Springs. It’s a beautiful tourist destination that brings in flocks of people from around the country, especially during the summer.
But in the winter, it’s mainly locals—just the way I like it—devoid of swarms of people, leaving me with the rocks and Mother Nature.
There are only a few cars in the parking lot, which gives me plenty of options, so when I park next to a big black truck, it’s intentional. From the Air Force sticker on the back window, I’m taking awildguess it’s Colby’s truck.
It’s not too large or obnoxious, but it’s large enough to fit his tall body. The sides are dirty, like he went off-roading, but from what I can see the interior looks spotless. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.
Usually there isn’t parking near the main garden lot, but since it’s winter and later in the day, there aren’t many people around. Pleased to have some privacy, I lock my car and stick my hands into my coat pockets, keeping them out of the chill as I walk down a paved pathway toward the main garden. I pass signs describing the history of the rocks and warning of rattlesnakes, and make my way toward the small hill. A rock, known as the Kissing Camels, shields me from the sinking Colorado sun, keeping it from blinding me until I get closer to the central main garden when the sun hits me again, a shining beacon, blocking my view from the west.
Pausing, I hold my hand up toward the sky, shielding the sun, and that’s when I see him. Leaning against a wooden split-rail fence, foot propped up, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He stands tall, an Air Force hoodie covering his broad shoulders, and aviators masking his gorgeous eyes. The minute he spots me, his face lights up, the corner of his mouth tilting toward the sky. And I almost lose my breath, because I haven’t seenthatsmile before. It’s warm, welcoming, and it’s all for me.God, the man is . . . magnificent.
I feel like running, sprinting into his arms, but instead, I walk, holding back my excitement, not wanting to scare him.
It feels like forever until I’m standing before him. We both have our hands stuffed in our pockets, smiles on our faces.
Nodding, beckoning me, he says, “Come here.”
He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and then reaches out and wraps his arm around my shoulders, bringing me in the last few inches until I’m plastered against his chest, taking in his fresh laundry scent, letting it invade my senses. He’s sucking me into a Colby-like coma that I wish to never be woken from.
I encircle him, pulling him in tight, reveling in the feel of his tight back muscles, in his strong chest and how it feels against my cheek. The top of my head reaches his chin, making it that much easier to be wrapped up in his embrace.
We stand there, holding one another, the words we’ve written to each other passing over us—through us—a greater understanding of our lives cementing the bond between us. I don’t attempt to move.Who would?I keep myself grounded in the comfort of his arms, and the tension I’ve carried for so long eases with every breath we take together.
