Page 38 of Feels Like Falling
The exhaustion was too great as I let Montana lead me to his bedroom and straight into the shower. I was thankful, the smell of antiseptic lingering even though we were no longer at the hospital. I needed to wash it away just like the fear that still clung to my skin.
Montana must have felt it too. He was quiet, his hands gentle as he rinsed the shampoo from my hair, the intimacy of it so much more than anything I’d ever experienced.
We’d dried off and thrown on some clothes before crawling into bed. He’d wrapped himself so tight around me it was hard to breathe, but just like the shower, I needed it as much as he did. And with only a few hours until the sun was due to rise, I drifted off, exhaustion mixing with a flicker of hope that everything would turn out all right.
18
ELLISON
They kept Grandad another night at the hospital. He’d been less than thrilled, but I’d been relieved. While my emotions ran freely rampant the entirety of the incident, Montana had been stoic—hyperfocused and anything but fine. I spent any and all available time trying to get him to talk about how he was feeling, but he still hadn’t cracked.
It’s been three days since Grandad came home, the man letting us fuss over him for exactly one day before declaring we were driving him crazier than a wet dog in a truck bed. I couldn’t blame him, honestly.
Between Montana, Celeste, and me, not to mention half the town, Grandad had grown tired of all the attention, even threatening to never make me breakfast again—the horror. I’d taken that threat to heart and changed my focus to my best friend which turned out to be worse than dealing with Grandad on the days he was feeling particularly ornery.
Instead of letting it out, Montana had bottled up every single feeling and locked them down tight. He was moody and distant, working late and distracted when he was home. I’d never seen him like this, and the fact that he’d become this person I didn’t recognize in the years I’d been gone gnawed at me.
Montana had taken on the responsibility of the farm and his grandfather’s care, and it had changed him. He hadn’t just grown up; he’d forgotten how to live—how to ask for help. Jensen had led the charge the night Grandad had been rushed to the hospital, making arrangements and taking the guesswork out of Montana’s hands.
I was thankful because I didn’t think Montana would have done it himself. Lord knows I’d been zero help that night. He wanted people to see the happy-go-lucky guy instead of the man compartmentalizing every single fear and pressure to not only keep his family’s business afloat but also manage the health of a man who meant the world to him.
It was unfathomable to think someone could shoulder all that alone. I helped out where I could, Celeste and I doing our best to make the house as stress-free as possible, but after a couple of days I needed to shake things up. Montana had practically turned into a zombie, and while Celeste had her reservations, I knew I needed to help him reset.
My way.
After having run errands all day, I’ve tucked myself away to get ready. Looking around, I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, pushing away the doubt and sending up a little prayer when I hear the front door close followed by boots hitting the floor.
Taking one last deep breath, I position myself on the bed and wait. The paperback in my hand is more of a prop as I hear Montana’s footsteps heavy on the hardwood. The closer they get, the faster my heart races and the harder it is to hide my smile.
“What the hell is that?” he asks without preamble as soon as he opens the bedroom door, his gaze locked on the giant framed picture of a cow behind me above his bed. “And that?” His gaze ping-pongs around the room to the obnoxious knickknacks I bought today for this exact reaction. “Jesus, Eddie, I was only gone a couple hours and you rearranged the whole damn place!”
It’s an exaggeration—kind of—but I watch with glee as his chest rises and falls faster with each new thing he notices.
The Christmas card of him in his boxers.
A hideous blanket I found in the bargain bin draped across the end of the bed.
His and hers robes hanging on the bathroom door.
“I just thought it was time to take our relationship to the next level,” I say sweetly.
“You what? What level? You’re moving in? I mean it’s fine, but dammit, Eddie, I think there should have been a conversation first.”
Batting my eyelashes, I lean one hand on the mattress and use the other one to push my boobs up in the low neck of my tank top. Montana’s gaze drops immediately to where I’m one heaving breath away from a nipple slip before looking up, his face flaming and his jaw clenching.
“You want to talk? I love talking.”
“You’re in my bed and you’re in my space and fuck if you don’t look good there, but I’m not playin’ house with you.”
I pout because I know how much he hates it. And how much he can’t resist it either. “So you’re saying you need a commitment before I can move the rest of my stuff in?”
“I’m saying that I have a lot of shit goin’ on right now and a case of blue balls that I may never recover from with you sleeping in my bed every night. But seriously, what the hell is all this?”
“You could have had me literally every single night since I got here—that’s onyounot me.” Throwing the paperback onto the bed, I stand and watch as he takes in the smallest pair of boyshorts I own as I snag leggings from the drawer I shoved them in—he doesn’t miss that either. “It’s okay, Max. I don’t want to stress you out if you’re not ready for a commitment. I can go sleep at my place.” I add with a shrug, “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s no big deal,” he mutters under his breath as he scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s no big deal? Fuck, Ellison, of course it’s a big deal.” He waves his hands around, his voice rising as color crawls up his neck.
“Why?” I demand, and his nostrils flare as emotions flash through his gaze.
