Page 37 of Falling into Place

Chapter Twenty-Six

Carly

Which careers have the best job security?

—Carly Porter’s Google search history, senior year

Carly shot up in bed, unsure what had woken her.

A knock sounded at her door.

She glanced at the clock. It was six in the morning, which was way too early for anyone to be at her door. Just as she’d decided to ignore whoever it was and crawl back under the covers, she happened to glance at her phone screen.

Three texts and a missed call from Brooks.

The knock came again and she swung her legs out of bed and rushed to the door.

He stood on the other side with slumped shoulders and his shirt all wrinkled. She was still processing his unkempt appearance when he swayed to the side as if he might fall over.

She reached out to grab his arm. “Brooks?”

His gaze collided with hers and she gasped. His usually bright hazel eyes were dull and haunted.

She tugged lightly and he followed her inside. “What’s wrong?”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “Coach died.”

Her stomach dropped and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh no.” He’d texted her about Coach’s heart attack, and they’d talked pretty late last night after he’d decided to stay with him so Coach’s wife could get some sleep. She put her arms around him. “Was it ... were you there when he ...?”

He nodded.

“I’m so sorry.” She brushed a lock of his hair back. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“Nothing, don’t do anything. I’m sorry I stopped by like this and woke you up. I just, I don’t know. I just sort of ended up here.”

Her heart ached. “I’m glad you came. I’m sorry I didn’t hear your call, my phone was on silent. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He looked dead on his feet.

“Why don’t you come lie down? See if you can go to sleep here, with me?”

He nodded, shoulders relaxing. “Can I take a shower first?”

Fifteen minutes later he came out of her bathroom in just his boxer briefs, hair damp and shoulders red from the steady stream of hot water.

Carly was in bed, waiting, her heart drifting in search of him.

She’d peeked in to give him a fresh towel from the laundry room and the image of him standing there under the steam, head bowed and eyes closed, hands flat against the tile, would forever be burned in her memory.

He’d already lost his parents, and now, too, the man who seemed to have filled a role as a second father figure. How much more would he have to endure?

He stretched out beside her and they met in the middle, lying on their sides and weaving their arms and legs together. He buried his face in her hair and she pressed her lips to his chest. They remained that way in the silence for several long moments, breathing steadily in the somber silence.

Carly didn’t know how it felt to lose someone close to her.

Her grandparents had passed when she was a baby, and she’d been lucky to not have dealt with the death of a loved one since.

Everyone experienced it at one point or another, but some losses would hit harder than others.

Some probably felt like a blow to the gut.

How long did the pain linger? When did it fade to something manageable, only resurfacing on special dates like birthdays and holidays?

Were some losses so deep the ache never truly went away?

He’d be hurting longer than the time they’d lie here together, but if being here with him could give him any measure of peace even for a moment, she’d stay here as long as it took.

He was still so long she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but then his fingers fanned out across her back and his upper body shifted.

His lips met her forehead and trailed down her cheek, coming to rest in a sweet kiss on her mouth.

She kissed him back tentatively, unsure what his intention was, communicating as best she could that she was perfectly content in this moment just as it was.

Then he sucked her lower lip into his wet mouth and her stomach clenched.

She opened her eyes and he pulled back a little, his gaze fierce and pleading.

She tilted her face up, close enough for their lips to touch again, because if their roles were reversed, she might want him to help her forget, too.

Carly slowly emerged from sleep several hours later, stretching her limbs as her brain gradually came online. Her chest constricted at the memory from just a few hours prior.

Brooks, moving above her, inside her, holding her close with his face buried against her neck as he breathed words against her skin.

Please.

I love you.

Make it stop.

Three words uttered for the first time that should have made her heart burst with joy, but she wasn’t altogether sure he’d even realized what he was saying. He’d seemed outside himself, and in that moment she would have done anything for him, done anything to take away his hurt and make it stop.

“I love you,” she’d murmured into his hair, the words true and much easier to say than she’d imagined, but he’d seemed too far gone to hear.

She shivered, colder than usual when Brooks stayed over, and rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. Frowning, she ran a hand over the cool sheets and lifted onto her elbows to glance toward the bathroom. The light was off.

She slipped on a tank top and sweatpants and padded into the hallway, expecting to hear him in the kitchen or catch the hum of the television. But the TV was off and the kitchen was dark.

Maybe he went out for coffee? She had no idea how long ago he’d left, but that seemed like something he would do.

It was 10:00 a.m., just four hours after he’d shown up at her door. She’d sort of passed out after they slept together, her body and emotions spent. She’d thought he was in the same boat.

They’d fallen asleep together, right?

Just in case, she circled the counter and checked the coffee table for a note, then went back to her room to see if he’d sent her a text.

Nothing.

She sent off a text that simply said, You okay? and made herself a pot of coffee. When he didn’t reply right away, she assumed he must have gone home for some reason and probably fallen asleep.

It hadn’t been long ago that he’d gone silent after having that difficult case at work, and despite saying he wanted to get better at talking through things and not retreating into himself, she understood it wasn’t a habit that he could break overnight. Still, this felt ... different.

When it had happened before, he hadn’t slept with her, said he loved her, and snuck out of her bed without a word.

Was he embarrassed he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of her? Maybe it was naive, but she’d hoped they were close enough by now that he wouldn’t feel that way. Before she could get too far down that road, her phone lit up with a text.

Mom: Is this outfit Ok for Café 501? Never been there.

Shit. Carly glanced at the clock. She was meeting her mom and the new boyfriend, Lance, for Sunday brunch and was gonna be late if she didn’t get ready.

The guy had made reservations at one of Carly’s favorite restaurants, which meant either her mom had tipped him off in the hope of earning brownie points or he’d just gotten lucky.

Either way, she needed to put aside her brooding about Brooks and focus.

Carly: That’s perfect. See you soon.

She took the quickest shower of her life and made it to the restaurant just in time. Her mom was glowing, her occasional high-pitched laughter the only thing that tipped off how nervous she was.

“I just want you to like him,” her mom whispered when Lance was in the restroom.

“Relax, Mom. He’s great.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Lance was perfectly nice, polite, and intelligent.

He was easy to talk to and seemed to really like her mom, which was what mattered most. He reminded Carly a lot of Benjamin, actually.

Still, Carly wasn’t completely taken with him for her mom.

There were no red flags, which was good, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was .

.. but everything about them together was just sort of flat.

She’d say none of this, though, because her mom seemed happy, and Carly wasn’t in the best place to be judging anything romantic right now.

She struggled to keep from thinking about Brooks, which was probably to blame for her pessimistic attitude.

By the end of the meal her mom had a content smile on her face, and Carly counted it a success.

She checked her phone as she walked out, thinking surely Brooks had called or texted her back by now.

Still nothing.

She stayed out of the house and kept herself as busy as possible for the entire day.

She shopped for clients, browsed the bookstore, and went grocery shopping.

It was after eight when she got home. By this point, anger had set in, and after she unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside, she tossed her purse on the table with more force than necessary.

Where the hell was he?

Carly woke with a start. Her leg was asleep and her neck ached, and the faint sound of music floated through the air.

She sat up from where she’d apparently fallen asleep on the couch, orienting herself to place and time. Monday morning, sometime after sunrise because light streamed through the sheer curtains behind her. The music kept going, and she suddenly realized it was her ringtone.

Brooks? Did he finally call?

It took her several seconds to locate her phone stuck between two couch cushions. She looked at the screen and disappointment filled her yet again.

“Hey, Mai,” she greeted, trying to sound chipper and not like she just woke up.

“Carly, how are you?” Something in her boss’s tone felt off, and Carly sat up straighter.