Page 21 of Falling for Them

But wow, sign me up to act in a movie like that, if Mr.Tyler and his friend are costars.

Tempting as it is to stop what I’m doing and run to my bedroom to use my vibrator while enacting and reenacting that fantasy in my head, I push it aside and focus on the music.It feels good to create, even when I’m exhausted.In fact, this kind of creative work gives me a different kind of energy.

I feel more alive now than I have in months.

My hands fly over the keyboard as I make adjustments to my music, trying out alternate chords, changing some to arpeggios.Damn, it’s sounding so much better than it did.My old music professor’s face appears in my mind, and she nods in approval at the way this song is taking shape.She’d hate that it sounds so commercial, but from a craft standpoint, she wouldn’t have any complaints.

I deeply miss the San Esteban School of the Arts.I was learning a lot there, before Dad got sick.

Someone pounds on my door.I check that my headphones are plugged in correctly—it sure would suck for the neighbors if I’d made a mistake with the connection and all this while, I’d been torturing them with the same measures played over and over again with minor tweaks each time.

Everything’s good with the connection.I yank off my headphones and stand up, rushing to the door.

“Who is it?”I say through the wood.

“It’s Tommy.Let me in, Ella.Please.”

His voice sounds odd.Not like he’s been drinking, but like he’s in pain.

I pull the chain lock free and unlatch the wobbly deadbolt.When I open the door, Tommy practically falls inside, leaning against me.I hold him up, just barely.

His face is purple and red, bruises blossoming all around his eyes and mouth.

“Tommy, what the fuck happened to you?”I say.

He manages a pained smile.“You should see…the other guy…guys.”

“Who did this?”I demand.“We should call the police.”

“Don’t call the cops.”

“Then tell me who did it.”

“Some old friends of mine.”

“No friends would do this,” I say, leading him to the couch, where he falls, rather than sits, down.

Friends, my ass.He was probably gambling again.We don’t talk about it, but there’s a reason we’re so fucking far in debt we can’t breathe.And it’s not just Dad’s hospital bills.

“Stay put,” I say, “I’ll get my first aid kit.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not running any marathons right now.”

He should be looked over by a doctor.A hospital trip would be better than my living room, but we both steer clear of the hospital since Dad…well, we hate that place.

I get him patched up and make him an ice pack with a dishtowel and ice.

“I don’t know where to tell you to put this,” I say, hovering in front of him.“I guess on your whole face?”

He gives a weak laugh at that.“Yeah, I guess so.Thanks, Ella.Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“Of course you can,” I say.

He starts to head toward my bedroom, but I say, “Not there.You’ll have to make do with the couch.I’ll bring you a blanket.”

Because even though he’s hurt, I’m tired of being a doormat.And I have an actual job I need to work at tomorrow.He can sleep all day if he wants to.

Although Tommy looks like he wants to argue about stealing my bed for the night, he must be truly beaten down, because he just says, “Yeah, of course.Thanks, sis.”