Page 28 of Falling Faster
A lead weight forms in my stomach. I set the pencil down to mark my place and close the sketchbook. The sunlight filtering through the window dims, casting the room in shadows as the sun slips behind clouds. "I understand."
"I hate cancelling on you." His voice draws my focus back to the screen. Creases fan out in fine lines from the corners of his eyes and he licks his lips. "I'm really sorry."
"I'm disappointed, but it's okay." Disappointed is an understatement. I'm a few notches below painful. But I don't want to tell him that when he looks like he feels bad enough. "Recording that song is a great opportunity."
Craig's sigh is so heavy a forklift wouldn't be able to raiseit. "It is. But I want to see you. I could still fly out late Friday night as planned. Arrive in Buffalo at eleven-thirty on Saturday morning. And take the eleven AM flight back to LA on Sunday."
"I want to see you. But I couldn't do that to you, not with you having to sing and be ready to record on Monday. You should spend the weekend at home, resting and relaxing."
"Twenty-four hours together is better than nothing."
Now, it's my turn to sigh. "I agree. But, you're exhausted already. Spending tons of hours stuck on planes and in airports in such a short span of time will only make that worse." My stomach tightens. "I don't want you blaming me if you're at less than your best on Monday."
With his frown, the intensity in his gaze burns brighter. "Hold on. Why would I blame you?"
The best answer I can manage is a shrug. Instances of my parents' remarks about missing out on things because of "the kid" aren't something I dwell on, but the feelings associated with them tend to surface at odd times and catch me unaware. "Just thinking."
Craig holds my gaze, unmoving. Unblinking. Studying me, and I fear he sees too deeply. "Too much passed over your face. Tell me what you're thinking about that would make you believe I'd blame you."
Silence stretches out between us as I gather my thoughts. Discomfort tickling along my spine, I hook my ankle around the chair's rung. "Let's just say I've heard the same thing often enough, drawing that conclusion is almost natural."
His brows knit together. "Not Slater and Noah."
"No. Not them. My parents. They had me really young, and a baby wasnotin their plans. We lived with my grandparents so they could watch me while my parents worked part-time around their college classes. My grandparentshadn't planned on the three of us interrupting their lives for so many years. As I heard them say more than once, they already raised their kids and didn't feel up to doing it again, which I understood. But my parents didn't want to do it either."
"I'm sorry." His voice is soft.
A chill creeping over my skin, I fold my legs up against my chest and shift toward the slowly forming sunbeam filtering through the window. "My grandparents are gone now. I don't have a relationship with my parents. I got tired of hearing how I was the reason their lives didn't turn out the way they'd planned."
Craig sighs and shifts, tucking one arm behind his head on the pillow. "I hate when people blame others for situations they put themselves in. I'm sorry you went through that. So sorry."
I don't know what to say, so I nod.
He pulls his phone closer to his face and his gaze is serious, locked in on mine. "Let's be clear. If I choose to do or not do something, that is on me. I don't blame other people for my actions and reactions."
The words soak in, soothing old wounds. "Noted."
"Good."
I really don't want to argue with him, and as much as I want him in my arms, putting aside what I want is the right thing to do. "I still think you should stay in LA and get some rest. Please? For me?"
Softness flickers in his eyes. He rubs his hand over his face, and when he focuses back on the screen, I can see his resolve has weakened. "Saying I'd do anything for you isn't much of an exaggeration."
That surprises me. And makes me hope. And realize there isn't much I wouldn't do for him. "Same here."
The softness continues in the smile shaping his lips. "Good to know."
My gaze falls on the color-coded calendar of comic book tasks I printed out, poking from the sketchbook. "Slater and I still have more to do to prepare for our launch. So while you're in the recording booth, I can focus on that."
A line forms between his brows. "I thought you said you were ahead of schedule."
"I am." Busting my ass and getting things squared away so I'd have time for Craig put me there. "But we're almost done. The only other thing I have on my calendar is the party Noah is giving us on launch day to celebrate our series going live. You're welcome to come."
He nods. "I want to be there, celebrating with you. I have meetings with a few artists later this month to talk about songs they want. Maybe I can fly out after those are finished. Come to the party. Stay for a while."
New tendrils of hope bloom and unfurl, though the wisps are thin and difficult to grasp. "I'd love that."
"I'll do my best to make it happen." Incessant beeping interrupts his voice. His muscles flex as he leans over the mattress and silences the alarm clock. "Sorry, but I need to get going. The band has an interview."
