Falling Under (Falling 3)

We’re silent, just sitting together. Eventually, Marie, Colt, and Mom come in, and I’m taken to my room and I fall asleep, dream of the accident, and of the glorious heaven that came before, her whispered I love you and her skin in the moonlight and then the Corvette is there, phone-lit face, too close, crashing impossibly through the darkness where we clung together on my bike, everything blurring, merging, nothing right, nothing the same.

I wake up sweating, and pain is a wracking spear in my gut. My arm aches, and I realize I don’t even know if it’s broken.

The next day, we both go home.

* * *

We both miss some school. Weeks pass slowly, during which we both heal, moving around stiffly. My arm is broken, and it’ll be a long while before the cast comes off. Other than that, I’m fine. My ribs are bruised, but they heal quickly, and the various cuts and deep scrapes on my legs, and the stitches on my head heal as well. Kylie and I just hang out, doing nothing much. Watch TV, do homework together. Anything kinky is off-limits for Kylie until her ribs heal. For the first week, she can’t move, can barely breathe.

I never got the chance to take up Colt on his offer to check out his friend’s garage, which sucks. That would’ve been a good job. But I’m not in any shape to work on cars yet. It takes nearly a month, and we’re both back to almost normal. My arm is still in a sling, but the cast will come off soon. I’m sitting with Kylie on her front porch, watching a show on Netflix on her laptop, watching night fall around us. We’re holding hands, the laptop on both of our laps as we rock gently on the two-person rocking chair. It’s become our favorite spot lately, since there’s not much else for us to do but sit around.

My gut clenches when I see a black Silverado pull into the driveway across the street. Kylie tenses, too. She hasn’t mentioned Ben in a long time, but I have a feeling there was some kind of discussion between them after the accident.

He sees us, and I move the laptop over to Kylie, stand up. Ben is coming this way, hands fisted at his sides.

“Oz.” His voice is calm, but sharp.

“Ben.” I extend my hand to him, hoping this can be a civil conversation.

I hear the laptop close behind me, and then the chair squeak as she stands up. Her footsteps shuffle. She still has a hard time moving around, her ribs still causing her some pain. Ben’s eyes narrow and go hard as he watches her move to stand beside me.

No one speaks for a long time, but Ben’s eyes betray a roiling maelstrom of emotion.

“Got something to say, Ben?” I ask. “Then say it.”

“Yeah, in fact. I do have something to say.” He seems to swell, anger puffing him up. “You almost got her killed, Hyde. You and your stupid motorcycle. She can still barely walk. What’s going to be next? It’ll be something else. I know it. You’re a f**king hazard, Hyde. I knew from day one that you’d get her hurt. And you did.”

“I’m fine, Ben—” Kylie starts.

Ben talks right over her, ignores her. “You know those ribs almost punctured her lungs? It was a matter of f**king centimeters, dude. It could’ve been her heart. Killed her in seconds. And it would have been your fault. Because you just have to try to be so goddamn cool, on your stupid f**king motorcycle.”

“You’re being an ass**le, Ben. It was an accident. It wasn’t his fault.” Kylie pushes between us, stares him down. “Go home.”

“No, Ky. Yeah, it may have been an accident, but that’s just the start of it. What’s gonna happen with you two? You’re gonna go off and, what? Do your little music thing? Play at being musicians? You’re gonna drag her around with you on the back of your bike, and eventually you’re gonna get her killed.”

“Stop it, Ben! You’re being ridiculous. It was an accident. And what we do is none of your business.” She frowns up at him, shakes her head. “What’s happening to you, Ben? Who are you? And what’s this really about?”

Ben spins away, turns back, raking his hand over his head. “What’s this about?” He jabs a finger in my direction, and I force myself not to react. “It’s about this f**king ass**le. He’s all wrong for you, Kylie. He always was, and he always will be. He’s nobody, from nowhere. He’ll never be good enough for you! And you’re just so f**king blind that you can’t see how wrong he is!”

“That’s my choice, Ben!” Her voice is raised in a shout, and she pushes at him. The effort is too much, and she stumbles forward, hands on her knees, groaning, sucking in air.

“Fuck off, Ben. You’re upsetting her.” I step in front of him, blocking his access to her.

“Get out of my way, Oz. You don’t f**king deserve her, and you know it.” His voice is hard as iron, hard as steel, sharp as razors.

“Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I don’t.” I step closer. “I never have and I never will. But guess what? She chose me, pal. Not you. You had your chance. You blew it. And now you’re jealous. I get it. She’s incredible, and I’d be jealous, too. But don’t cause problems where there don’t need to be any.” I make sure he has nowhere to go but through me.

“Get out of my way, Oz.” He pushes toward her, tries to go around me, toward Kylie, who is holding a hand to her ribs, gasping for breath, eyes wet, fearful, and she’s trying to reach for us.

I stay between him and her. “No. Go home. She asked you to go home. So just f**king go. Leave us alone.” I step closer, so I’m nearly touching him.

“Get out of my face.”

“Oz…Ben…please…don’t—” Kylie gasps.

“I said…get out. Of. My. Face.” Ben bites each word, fists clenched, chest swelling, eyes going manic.

I shrug my arm out of the sling. Ignore the pain. “Walk away, Ben.” I swallow my pride and try it nicely. “Please. Just go.”

“Or what?” He smirks at me. “Gonna sucker-punch me again?”

I growl. “You started that, Ben. Just like you’re starting this.”

“And I’m finishing it.” He shoves me. “Fuck. Off. Get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

I stumble backward, and habit takes over. Instinct. Fight reflexes kick in. I rocket forward, swinging my good fist. I connect, hard. Ben’s head rocks back, and I hear Kylie screaming, pleading for us to stop. It’s too late, though. Ben is coming for me. I dodge out of the way, and his fist misses. I pivot, step away, and he follows, swinging again. His face is a rictus of rage, and his fist is huge, coming hard and fast, and it hits me square in the nose, knocks me backward. Pain explodes in my face, blood splatters, and he’s still coming, and Kylie is stumbling for me, crying, pleading. I see the terror in her eyes, and I step backward, hold up my hands.