Page 87 of Feels Like Falling
“No way,” Bea gasps as there’s a knock at the door, and Archer’s hand reaches for the knob without looking as his gaze ping-pongs between us. “I knew you looked familiar. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!”
“Hey everyone. Oh holy hell, there’s two of you!” Cal exclaims as he crosses the threshold, unceremoniously dumping the bags in his arms onto the floor before moving to stand in front of us. “Well, this is a plot twist if I ever saw one.” He nods and looks around. “Oh, I’m Cal; your host is terrible.”
Archer snickers and I shove Cal, making him laugh before properly introducing everyone in the room and explaining my plan.
“Do you think it will work?” Because I desperately want it to work. I need it to work.
“You’re the only one who makes him smile like that,” Archer says firmly as he holds my gaze. It’s unwavering as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
“He smiles a lot,” I try, but it’s weak and I hate that I need the reassurance—need him to say again that it’smeMontana needs.
“It’s been my experience…” Bea cocks her head to the side and he blushes as he looks at her. “What? It’s limited but I do have some.”
“Of course you do, baby,” she says teasingly before blowing him a kiss. He narrows his eyes and even though his face is scarlet, I can still feel the tension bouncing between them.
“What I mean is,” Archer says while returning his attention to me, “the guy is perpetually happy. There’s not a lot that derails the person he puts out into the world, and few people know the guy who’s under all that. He’s humble and quiet,”—he points at me—“but you’ve always known that version of him.”
He doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t have to. I’ve taken those moments with my best friend for granted. I’d traded the possibility of something more for stability. I’d taken every smile and laugh and selfishly tucked it away.
Montana had taught me how to climb trees and throw a football. He’d doubled down when I told him Owen Sanders had been my first kiss in the hallway outside the gymnasium and I didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
He hadn’t taken too kindly to that. Montana had cursed and muttered under his breath the entire way home from school, dragging me deep into the cotton field and away from prying eyes.
And then my best friend had kissed me breathless.
He’d kissed me like I’d seen in the movies and he kissed me like he could have done it forever. He’d been smug afterward, like any other sixteen-year-old boy who’d left a girl panting from making out, but I wasn’t mad because he’d shown me exactly what the fuss was about.
But that kiss was the only thing I had to keep me warm at night—the only thing I had to make it through the day.
Archer looks around the room at the rolls of paper, bottles of paint, and brushes littering my living room and sighs. “And now him smilin’ at you means I’m doing arts and crafts.”
“Have I mentioned how handsome you are lately?” Bea says with a grin.
“Y’all are too cute,” Cal says, placing a hand over his heart, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Yeah, yeah,”—Archer waves me off—“just show me what we’re doin’ so I can pretend like I’m not getting arrested tonight.”
I gasp. “I am offended you’d even say such a thing.” He snorts and Bea looks on amused. I’m about to retort but decide against it and just shrug as I hold out my wineglass. “To the things we do for family.”
“To family,” Arden says, and my heart grows three sizes because I’ve finally created the family I’d always wanted. A sister I’d missed my whole life and friends who came just because I needed them—it was more than I could have ever imagined.
Bea clinks her glass enthusiastically against Arden’s and then mine as Archer takes a sip from his water bottle, Cal already refilling his glass after a single toast.
Scrolling through my phone, I find a playlist, and the first beats of “Make Me Want To” by Jimmie Allen fill the room as we all break off to our respective corners and get to work.
With any luck, this will be a story worth telling for years to come. But for now, I just have to make it to tomorrow.
39
MONTANA
I’ve barely made it through the day, my back aching from pushing myself to drown out the noise in my head. Descending North blares through the speakers, the rock band justifying the hurt, anguish, and fury I’ve been holding on to.
It has been the soundtrack to my life on and off for years, but thinking it was all behind me makes this new wave of heartbreak that much worse.
The setting sun bounces off a shiny new SUV as it follows the gravel drive toward the house. It doesn’t belong.
It never has.
