Page 11 of The Fall

I lean in, closing the distance. Our lips meet.

It’s not Blair’s first kiss, but it is mine, and it’s perfect.

It’s fireworks and lazy mornings and gentle midnights, promises and declarations and silent, secret glances, all at once.

It’s a tidal wave, pulling me under, and I’m not even close to fighting it.

I’ve dreamed of this moment, but reality is so much better.

I want to lose myself in Blair, in the strength of his arms and the heat of his body. I want to know him with my hands, to map out every inch of his skin. I want his taste to be the only thing I ever taste again. I want one kiss to stretch into infinity, an eternity of Blair’s lips against mine.

Lily splashes over, kicking half the pool into our faces and breaking us apart. “Torey, Torey! Watch this!”

She ducks under the water and tries to execute a wobbly handstand, and nearly brains Hayes with her heel.

Blair keeps one of his hands tangled in mine beneath the water. It’s nowhere near enough, but that kiss was a pretty good start.

Blair, Hayes, and I start a game of monkey in the middle, bouncing a pink beach ball over Lily’s head as she lunges and belly flops for it. Eventually, Blair lets her climb onto his shoulders, and then he declares he’s switching sides, the two of them against us.

“Torey is on our side!” Lily has her hands plastered to Blair’s forehead, her feet dug hard into his armpits. He might lose an eye to her finger.

Hayes feigns getting shot in the heart. “My own flesh and blood has turned against me.” He falls back dramatically, the water splashing over him as he sinks into the deep.

Lily doesn’t seem to mind her dad’s demise.

She thrusts out her hands toward me. Blair helps Lily move to my shoulders, where she stays until it feels like my sockets are separating and my spine is collapsing.

Erin saves me with Fudgsicles, but even out of the pool, Lily plants herself on my lap when we shift to the deck chairs.

Happiness is everywhere, wrapping me up, pulling me under.

The citronella candles flickering on the table, the pool toys bobbing in the water, the music drifting from Hayes’s speakers.

Blair’s knee pushed against my thigh, Erin and Hayes cuddling in a single chaise lounge, eyeing Blair and me and Lily and trying to hide their smiles.

Twilight descends while we’re too busy laughing to notice the day slipping away. The stars are out in full force, and the air is pleasant and cool, the humidity gentle. A soft, saltwater breeze drifts in off the Gulf.

Lily, still perched on my lap, traces the inside of my arm with a damp finger, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She twists and burrows into my side. Her face is sticky from the Fudgsicle.

“Lilybean,” Erin says, standing. “It’s time to get ready for bed.”

Lily scowls. “But he just got here!”

Hayes and Blair look down, hiding their smiles. Erin holds out her hand. “Torey has been here for two hours, not two minutes. He’s played with you nonstop. I’m sure he’s tired, too.”

I give her my best exaggerated yawn. Halfway through, it turns into a real yawn, and my jaw cracks. Both Blair and Hayes laugh.

“I’ll be back soon,” I promise Lily.

She’s still unhappy, but she climbs off my lap.

Hayes drapes her towel over her shoulders. “What do you say, boo?”

“Thank you for playing with me, Torey.” She pads off, wrapped in her towel like a tiny mummy. Her hair is clinging to her cheeks and her eyelids are fluttering closed. Still, she waves one more time at the back door before she disappears inside, leaving a Lily-shaped emptiness behind.

“Think my own kid likes you better than me,” Hayes says, kicking at my ankle. There’s no heat to it.

I nudge him back. “What can I say? She’s got good taste. All the ladies do.”

Hayes tips his head back and laughs. Even Blair laughs, which… I elbow him. “You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“Babe.” Blair can barely keep a straight face.

It’s strange, seeing this fierce, ferocious man melt into giggles.

In my memories, Blair Callahan was a hardened hockey warrior, all go, all fight, all grit, no quit.

But here? Now? He’s a completely different man.

He’s gentle. Tender. Loving. He is the sun.

I elbow him again. “Traitor.”

Hayes is wiping tears from his eyes, a little too dramatically. “For real, though.” Hayes looks at me, softening. “She thinks the world of you. Like, really. She talks about you all the time.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. Hayes looks like he wants to say more, but Blair interrupts. “Remember that you’re spoken for.”

My eyebrows pop. “Oh, jealous?”

Hayes shakes his head. “It’s true love, I’m afraid, Calle. Looks like you’ll have to find another one.”

Blair’s hand finds mine. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums. His eyes are bottled-lightning blue, and he holds my gaze.

I stare back, breathe in. Bite the corner of my bottom lip. His hand squeezes?—

Hayes clears his throat, overly loud, overly long. Blair rolls his eyes and kicks at Hayes’s ankle, at the same time tugging me closer. We end curled up on the same chaise, Blair wrapped around me, arms and legs everywhere. He hooks his chin over my shoulder.

The conversation shifts, and I’m content to let it pass me by. Hayes leans back, his eyes on the stars and the sky. They’re talking about the team, about the last game, about the upcoming game. About the penalty kill, and about a lingering hamstring issue with Axel, the goalie.

How many times have we done this, the three of us? Talked late about the game, Hayes laughing with Blair’s heartbeat strong against my back? Blair catches me staring at him, and, God, he looks at me like I’m the only thing he needs.

This is it. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Hayes is quiet, sipping his iced tea. Blair shifts, and a shadow falls behind the brightness of his eyes.

“So, how’s Erin?” Blair asks, casual, but there’s an underlying current in his voice.

Hayes turns that question over slowly.

“Really well,” he says finally. “We really did catch it early.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about. Erin seemed fine, but was she sick? How serious was it?

Cancer. The word forms in my mind. Erin had cancer, and Jesus fucking Christ, how do I not remember this? What kind of a friend forgets something like that?

Hayes looks up, wearing the fierce, protective love of a husband and of a father, and I can’t breathe.

“It’s been a hell of a few years, huh?” Hayes breathes.

Blair snorts, but I’m pressed against him, and I feel the flinch he tries to cover up. Hayes claps him on the shoulder.

Then he looks at me, really looks at me. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you, Torey.”

Everything stops. I shake my head. I haven’t done anything to deserve his gratitude. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but Hayes keeps going.

“You were there for us through the whole thing. And she’s great now.

I swear, they’re going to be naming a treatment center for her.

” A laugh rips out of him. It breaks on the end, but he turns the laugh into something closer to a smile.

“She’s...” Hayes pauses and swallows, shaking his head.

“Erin’s incredible. God, she’s incredible.

” Hayes’s eyes are fixed on the horizon, a million miles away.

What did I do? There’s nothing there, no picture in my mind, only an absence of memory.

All that I don’t remember, the conversations missed and the struggles they carried, weighs heavily on me.

I don’t remember the hard parts of this past year.

I have no answers, and no memories to offer, no shared history to draw on.

I can only sit here, Blair’s warmth a lifeline in the deepening shadows, trying to breathe.

It’s such a strange thing to be happy and devastated all at once. And, God, the fear. I am afraid to touch this life I have, to hold it, to breathe on it, to walk too close in case it shatters or twists away or slips through my fingers.

Blair rolls over until he’s facing me. There’s a patience in him I don’t fully understand. What did I do to deserve this love?

I wish I could remember .

We stay there, sinking into the night. This love is a language my soul understands, even if my mind is struggling to catch up. I squeeze his hand. The fear is lurking, but so is this. I don’t know how to hold on without breaking, but I’m here. Right now, I’m here.