If I Fall by Anna Cruise Read Free Book Online Page A

cautiously. “You forgive me?”
    The bug's diesel engine idled as he waited.
    I got in and fastened my seat belt. “Yeah. I do.”
    I threw my purse on the floor mat. I did forgive him. We'd both been drunk and I hadn't tried to stop him. At least not in time. That's what I told myself, anyway. It was easier to believe that.
    “Where do you want to go?”
    “ Anywhere but here.”
    He fiddled with the radio before shifting the car into gear. We drove down Mission, flying past the houses that flirted with the coastline before veering left on to La Jolla Boulevard. He turned left again, just past the tiny motel on the corner, and made a quick right before stopping in front of a small white cottage that looked as though it had been lifted from the pages of a fairy tale. Red window boxes framed the front windows, brimming with pink and purple geraniums. Dwarf palm trees and hibiscus plants bordered the golf-course green, matchbox-size lawn. Aidan got out.
    “Whose house is this?” I asked as I followed him up the sidewalk.
    “ My mom's.” He opened the front door and led me past a living room furnished with white wicker chairs and sofas. Bouquets of pink roses decorated every horizontal surface. He walked down a wide, airy hallway and into a bedroom. His bedroom. I stopped at the door.
    He must have noticed my expression. “Don't worry,” he assured me. “I'll be good.”
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat down on the bed, stiff and wooden like a soldier. “See?”
    I couldn't help but smile. I stepped in to his room and sat down next to him, close but not touching, and looked around. It was sparsely furnished, his queen-sized bed taking up most of the floor space in the tiny room. There was a pine chest of drawers against one wall and a matching nightstand flanking either side of the bed. The butter-colored walls were littered with posters —surfers, skaters, bands like MXPX, Insane Clown Posse, CKY, groups I didn't really listen to—and a pile of dirty clothes blocked the closet door.
    “ You wanna talk about it?
    “ About what?” I didn't think I was ready to discuss the events from the other night. I was actually surprised he was bringing it up.
    He rolled to the other side of the bed and rummaged in the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “About whatever the hell is bothering you.”
    I shrugged.
    He shook one into his hand, brought it to his mouth and lit it. “Have anything to do with that sign in your front yard?”
    I ignored his question. “What about your mom?” I asked, motioning to the cigarette.
    He exhaled a puff of white smoke. “She's not home. Even if she was, it wouldn't matter. She doesn't care.”
    “Oh.” I thought about that and wondered if, in her current condition, my mom would care, either.
    He settled back against the pillows. “So, tell me what has you all worked up.”
    I hesitated for just a minute and then, taking a deep breath, told him. About my dad and Cheri. About my mom. About the house. All the things I couldn't tell Jada. I didn't worry about what he would think, what he would say. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't be judgmental. He smoked his cigarette, and then another, as he listened.
    “ Wow,” he said when I'd finished. “You have some pretty serious shit going on, don't you?”
    I nodded. Spelling it all out for him, hitting all of the bullet points, brought it all into focus. And it sucked even more.
    “You know,” he said, “sometimes the best thing to do with stuff like that is to find a way to laugh about it.”
    I stared at him. “I don't find any of it particularly funny, though.”
    “Not yet,” he told me.
    He got off the bed and walked the three steps to his dresser. He searched the top drawer and pulled out a thin Sees candy box.
    He brought it back to the bed and held it out to me. “But you will.”
    “ What is it?” I asked, looking at the tattered box. I didn't think candy was going to solve