Before We Fall (Beautifully Broken #3)

“I just want to help,” I assure her, glancing at the way she’s rubbing her head. “I’m sorry you fell, Jacey. I feel responsible because you hurt your foot in the first place because of me. Just let me take care of you tonight, then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

“No,” Jacey snaps, staring at me, her brown eyes snapping. “Just… no. Stop the car and I’ll call someone else.”

“Like Brand?” I ask acerbically. “You want him to come riding to your rescue again and you can pretend that you don’t know what he feels for you?”

Jacey stares at me, her gaze falling, and for a minute I feel bad for goading her. But shit. She can’t keep running to him every time she has a problem.

“I’m too tired to argue,” Jacey finally says wearily, leaning her head against the window. “Brand and I had a come-to-Jesus, and you were right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? You were right. Brand’s in love with me. I don’t feel the same way, and it’s driving a wedge in between us, so I can’t call him. I’m on my own. Just… take me home and drop me off, if you want to help. I’m so tired that I can’t stay awake.”

I’m stunned about her and Brand. I’m stunned she would tell me that I was right all along. I’m stunned that she’s not going to call him anyway because she leans on him for everything.

A part of me feels intense satisfaction that she’s not leaning on him tonight.

I’m here instead.

“I’m sorry about Brand,” I tell her. “I know how much you love him.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” she answers firmly. “Let’s just… not.”

“Okay,” I reply, ignoring her icy tone. “Then I’ll just tell you that you’re not on your own. I’m here. And it’s normal to feel sleepy. You can go to sleep when we get to your house, but I have to stay with you and wake you up every two hours. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, fucking great,” she mutters, closing her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

When we get to her house, she changes into pajamas and then climbs into bed.

“You can sleep on the sofa,” she tells me firmly as I pull the blankets up to her chin. I nod.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“You leaving would make me comfortable,” she grumbles and rolls onto her side, dismissing me. I settle myself on the sofa.

I don’t sleep. Instead I read a book until it’s time to wake her up the first time.

As I stare down at her, I can’t help but notice how innocent and beautiful she looks while she’s asleep. Completely trusting. I gently shake her shoulder and she opens her eyes.

“Jacey, do you feel all right?”

She nods.

“Yes or no?” I clarify.

“Yes,” she sighs.

“What’s your full name?”

“Jaselyn Elizabeth Vincent.”

“I didn’t know that,” I tell her. “It’s pretty.”

It suits her. But I don’t add that.

“It’s after my grandma.” She yawns. “When I was born, Gabe couldn’t say it very well. He called me Jacey, and eventually everyone else did too. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“I don’t think so,” I tell her uncertainly. “I need to make sure you’re lucid first.”

She stares at me, and I can see when the sleep lifts and clarity sets in. Her expression hardens.

“Why are you here, Dominic?” she asks suddenly. “You could’ve told the hospital the truth—and they would’ve asked me for someone else to call. You didn’t have to stay there and you don’t have to stay here now. What kind of game are you playing?”

A tiny muscle in my jaw ticks. “I don’t know,” I answer her honestly. “But it’s not a game. For once, it’s not a game. I want to be here.”

She sighs, a tiny sound in the night. “But why? You’re only making things worse. You’re dragging things out when we need to just end them. It’s cleaner that way. Less painful. Trust me, I know all about endings.”

“I don’t want to end things,” I tell her raggedly. I know that her response could crush me, but I can’t take it back. “I don’t want to end things,” I repeat.

As I say the words aloud, it validates what I feel even more. I don’t want to end things. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want that. Somehow, against my best efforts, I’ve let her in. And now that she’s in, I can’t let go of her. I can’t experience that kind of loss again.

She closes her eyes. “You can’t give me what I need, Dominic,” she says plainly. “So what’s the point? I can’t settle for less. Not anymore.”

Panic wells up in me, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue, because she might be right. Not because I don’t want to give her what she needs, but because I might be incapable.

But I can fucking try.

“What do you need?” I ask, and the words scrape my throat painfully.

“You,” she answers simply. “All of you… and you aren’t able to give me that.”

My breath comes quicker now, in rasps and almost pants. I don’t know what a panic attack feels like, but I feel like I might be getting ready to have one. My ribs feel like steel bands that are constricting my lungs in a vise. I suck a harsh breath in, then let it out slowly.

“How do you know?” I ask finally. “I haven’t tried.”

“Because I know you,” she says simply, her eyes closed and her eyelashes dark against her pale cheeks. “I know you.”

“Do you?” I ask, my voice empty. “Do you really?”

Jacey opens her eyes again, and I see a million things there. Painful things, confused things.

Hopeful things.

“Fine. Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you tell me?” she suggests softly. “Tell me who you are. Tell me about Emma. That’s a start.”

Jesus. I can’t breathe.

The vise around my lungs moves to my heart, constricting it, crushing it, grinding it to a pulp while I try to breathe.

I manage to take a breath and stare into the corner of the room, into the dark.

“Why that?” I manage to ask. “Why do I have to talk about Emma? She doesn’t affect you and me.”

Jacey stares at me, her gaze dark. “Doesn’t she?” she asks softly. “You’re in love with her, Dominic. And she’s there… in every little thing you do.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to force out the truth. But I know she’s right. Everything I do, everything that is fucked up about me, is because of Emma. And if I ever want to get past it, if I ever want something that is real and good, I have to confront it. I have to confront her.

“See?” Jacey asks quietly. “I knew you couldn’t do it. Just go, Dom. I’ll call Kaylie to sit with me.”

My eyes fly open.

“No,” I say firmly, fueled by desperation. “Let me try.” Jacey stares at me doubtfully, afraid to hope now.

“I’m not in love with Emma. She’s dead. I know that. But I can’t help but love her. She was my first everything. My first kiss, my first love, my first time. I’ll always love her. Because of everything that happened with her, I’ll never get away from it. From her.”

I pause, letting the words soak in for Jacey.

“Emma’s dead. She died a horrible death and it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I can describe that night, I can’t even put it into words. I’ve never been able to talk about it with anyone… not even my family. I think about her face and that last night and I freeze up. The words die in my mouth and I can’t say them. But if you need this… if this is what you need… I’ll try.”

The air is charged between us, and it hangs heavily. But it doesn’t matter, because the one thing I need happens… Jacey’s face softens at my words and she nods.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers softly. “I know it’s hard. But I do need this. I need to understand what happened, because I think it will explain everything. I need to know you, Dom.”

I feel weak with relief, but at the same time I’m tense. I know I have one shot to explain, to make her understand, and I have to get it right. Even though there’s no getting anything with Emma’s fucked-up situation right. It was always all wrong. On every level.

I look out the window at the night sky as I speak. I can’t look at Jacey’s face… it might kill me to see her reaction. There’s no way I want to see her face when she hears what I did. Who I was. How I acted.

“Emma and I grew up together,” I begin. “She was always at my house, with Kira, playing with Duncan, Sin, Fiona, and me. We were all like family.”

“Until you started dating,” Jacey interrupts. I smile, just a little, at the memory of my first date with Emma.

“Yeah. Our first date was an accident… when we were sophomores. Her car died on our road. I was on my way out, so I picked her up and took her with me. I was driving my dad’s old classic Nova… and it had a cassette tape stuck in the deck. If we wanted to listen to anything, our only choice was “Brown Eyed Girl.” We probably listened to that song fifty times that night… but it turned out all right because the night ended with a goodnight kiss. All of a sudden, we realized that we didn’t feel like brother and sister anymore.”

Jacey stares at me, a knowing look in her eyes. “That’s how you knew about Brand. You recognized it because that’s what happened with you and Emma.”

I nod.

“We dated all through high school. No one said our names separately… we were like one person, Dom-and-Emma. But then, my senior year…”

My voice trails off as pain rips through me. Memories are so vivid, so fucking vivid, and I close my eyes against them.

The blood, the pain in Emma’s eyes. The guilt, Jesus Christ, the guilt.

My spine feels like it’s being ripped out of my body at the mere memory.

I swallow hard, then swallow again. Jacey waits patiently, but I can feel her watching me, wondering if I’m going to be able to do it.

“Emma killed herself because of me,” I finally manage to say thickly, and my tongue feels like a dead thing in my mouth.

All the blood, her blood, swims in front of my eyes, and for a moment I only see red. I’m starting to wonder if it’s the only color I’m ever going to see.

Jacey gasps a ragged breath and her eyes widen. “Oh my god. Jesus, Dominic.” She takes another breath. “What happened?”

I try to make myself numb, like I always do when I think about this, about Emma.

I reach into my pocket, turning the aquamarine pendant over and over in my fingers. Like always, knowing that she used to wear it around her neck when she was still healthy and alive calms me down enough so I can speak.

“Does it matter?” I finally answer. “The important thing is that she did. And it was my fault.”