EXCERPT ONE
Chapter One
Levee
It was raining. Isn’t that the way all
great love stories start? And also usually end? The midnight air was cool
against my skin as I stared off that bridge. My blond wig was secured in place
by a headband, and chunky sunglasses covered my whiskey-colored eyes. I didn’t
look like myself any more than I felt it. Bruises from the night before painted
my legs while fresh scabs covered my knees, but it was the hollowness in my
chest that hurt the most.
Yep. Still me.
Which was exactly why I was standing on
that bridge, wishing for the mental fortitude to hurl myself off.
A man’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“You finally gonna do it tonight?”
I instinctually smoothed my fake hair
down and pressed the bridge of my glasses closer to my face, sealing out any
possible glance he could catch. I stared ahead as I snapped, “Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen you here three nights in a row
now. I was just wondering if tonight was going to be the night you finally
jump.”
My eyes flashed wide, but since they were
covered by the dark glasses, my reaction remained hidden. “I just like the
view. That’s all.” What a load of shit.
I watched him nod out of the corner of my
eye. “Yeah me too. It’s gorgeous up here.”
Shuffling my feet to the side, I
attempted to slip away as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and
offered it my way.
“You want one?”
I shook my head and then crept down a few
inches to put distance between us.
“Suit yourself.” He used a hand to shield
the lighter from the wind, but the constant sprinkle of rain made his task
impossible. “Damn it,” he cursed with the cigarette tucked between his lips.
“Little help?” he asked, swinging his gaze to mine.
Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “With what?”
“It’s raining…and windy…and I’m trying to
burn one.” He tilted his head, equally as incredulous.
“You want me to call God? We had a bad
breakup recently, but he might be willing to do me one last favor.”
He breathed an exaggerated sigh of
relief. “That would be fantastic.
What’s the big guy’s response time like these days? Last time we spoke, it
was”—he paused to look at his watch—“oh, twenty-seven years.”
A soft laugh bubbled from my throat, and
one side of his mouth lifted in a gorgeous grin.
“I’m not exactly in the mood to wait that
long, so maybe you could just block the wind with your body?” His smile spread
as he stepped toward me, forcing my gaze to nervously bounce away.
“Sorry. Can’t help you there. Lung cancer
and I broke up too.” After gathering the back of my wig into a ponytail, I
pulled it over my shoulder and turned away from him. The chill of the wind
blasted my face and roared over my ears as it rushed past me.
I went back to staring out at the dark,
choppy water, becoming lost in the idea of how cold it might be.
Is
tonight the night?
No.
My feet would more than likely never
leave the edge of that bridge, but there was a definite reason why I was
imagining ending it all. Exactly zero other people in the world would
understand why. I had it all, and I dreamed about losing it all—more often than
I would ever admit, even to myself.
After stepping out of my heels, I slipped
my foot between the bars on the railing. The wind slammed my bruised leg
against the metal. “Shit,” I hissed as pain shot through me.
“You think that hurts? Imagine falling
twenty-five stories then crashing into the water, which might as well be
concrete, at speeds upward of seventy miles per hour,” the man said, leaning on
the metal railing next to me.
“Wow. Someone’s done some research,” I said
sarcastically, barely sparing him a glance.
“Daily,” he responded frankly, causing my
surprised gaze to swing to his. Simply shrugging at my reaction, he turned his
back to the railing and propped himself up on his colorfully tattooed forearms.
“You forget I’ve been here the last three nights in a row too.” He smirked,
lifting the cigarette up to his lips for a deep inhale.
“Listen, I’m not going to jump if you’re some
kind of caped crusader on a mission. I just needed some fresh air.” I pointedly
glanced at his cigarette.
A laugh escaped his mouth in a grey puff.
“Fresh air is overrated. Especially given the reason you’re standing here.” He
knowingly arched a dark-brown eyebrow.
“Riiiiight,” I drawled, rolling my eyes
behind my glasses. “Okay, well, I was just heading out anyway.”
“Then my work here is done.” He bowed,
and the corner of my mouth lifted in a smile as I stepped back into my shoes
and walked away.
I shook my head at the random stranger.
Then, a thought struck me, stopping me only a few feet away. Spinning back to
face him, I asked, “Wait. Were you reaching out to me as a cry for help?”
“Oh look. Designer Shoes has a
conscience!” He dropped his cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it with
the toe of his well-worn, black boots. Bending over, he picked the butt up and
tucked it in his pocket.
At least
he didn’t litter.
“Oh look. Tattooed Stalker has jokes!” I
smarted back.
He smiled, pulling another cigarette from
his pocket and then pausing just before guiding it between his lips. “Were you
judging me based on my tattoos? I’m offended.” He feigned anguish then laughed
while lifting his lighter to once again battle the wind for a nicotine fix.
I wanted to walk away, but he wasn’t
wrong. I did have a conscience, and right then, I was worried that it might
really be his night to make good on his apparent numerous visits to the bridge.
With a huff, I headed back towards him,
praying that I could wrap it up as quickly as possible then head back to my
house for a few hours of sleep. Or, more likely, lie awake while staring at the
ceiling and crying.
“Are you planning to jump for real?” I
asked.
His smile fell as he focused on the
water. “Nah. I don’t have the balls to do something like that. Talking to you
wasn’t a plea for help or anything. You just look worse than usual tonight.”
His gaze slid down to my battered legs.
“Oh!” I exclaimed in understanding.
“That’s not at all what you’re thinking. I fell down some stairs.”
He quirked his lips in disbelief.
“I’m serious!”
“I’m sure you are,” he told the wind.
“You can go. I’m good.”
I could have walked away, but for some
reason, I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and silently stood there
while he finished his cigarette.
After a final deep inhale, he flicked it
over the railing of the bridge.
Apparently,
he does litter.
Turning to me, his face became serious.
“You need to call the cops before he makes the decision to end it all for you.”
“Who?” I asked, watching the burning
ember hit the metal column then explode in a million different sparks before
disappearing down to the water below.
Lucky
cigarette.
“The stairs…and whatever inanimate object
you’re blaming for those bruises you’re hiding behind sunglasses at one in the
morning. You should call the cops before…” His voice trailed off, but his dark
gaze narrowed on mine. His eyes bored into my hidden stare, combining with the
rain and wind to send chills down my spine.
I took the moment to secretly assess him.
He was insanely sexy, but nothing like the men I was accustomed to. His chin
was the kind of scruffy that made women weak, but it was obvious he didn’t pay
four hundred dollars for his personal hairstylist to shape it. Judging by his
shaggy, brown hair that begged for me to thread my fingers in it, I wasn’t sure
he was even a barbershop kind of guy. He stood a few inches taller than I was
in heels, so I pegged him at around six one. And while his tattooed forearms
were deliciously sculpted and his shoulders were notably defined, his body
didn’t appear to be swollen with muscles from hours spent at the gym. By the aura
of bad boy he gave off, I would have
expected him to be a self-consumed, arrogant prick.
He wasn’t though.
He was just an average guy worrying about
the well-being of an average girl.
Only he couldn’t have been more wrong,
and a pang of guilt hit me hard.
Just not hard enough for me to do
anything to correct his assumptions about who I was.
Very softly, I attempted to put his fears
to rest. “I promise it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Okay,” he responded, unconvinced. He
nodded to himself before dragging another cigarette from his pocket.
I watched him struggle for a second
before I scooted towards him, using my body to block the wind.
Biting the cigarette between his
straight, white teeth, he smiled devilishly around it. “Thanks.” Flicking the
flame to life, he hunched over until a stream of smoke swirled up from the red
tip.
“You should stop smoking.”
“Noted.” He exhaled through his nose.
We went back to silently staring over the
side of the bridge. The familiar lights of the San Francisco skyline danced all
around us. And, even as tourists and locals alike passed by us, I felt an odd,
and unbelievably comfortable,
isolation standing there with him.
When my teeth began to chatter, his attention
was drawn my way. “I’m not here to jump. You really can go.”
I nodded but didn’t move away.
He chuckled, crossing his arms over his
chest and rubbing his biceps for warmth.
“How are you not frozen?” I asked, taking
in his thin Henley for the first time since we met.
Shrugging, he dropped his cigarette,
answering as he bent to retrieve it. “Thick skin? I’m used to it? I come here a
lot? I’m half Eskimo?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re cold,
aren’t you?”
“Fucking. Freezing,” he admitted, tucking
his arms close to his body and blowing into his hands. “I just came up here for
one smoke. Then I saw you. Now, come on. Be a lady and loan a man a jacket,” he
joked, tugging on the edge of my coat.
I laughed, hugging it even tighter around
my body and stepping out of his reach. “How about we both just leave? Then
neither of us have to worry about the other plummeting to their death.”
“Sounds like an amazing plan.” He shoved
his hands into the pockets of the tattered jeans riding low on his hips. As we
began the hike back down to the foot of the bridge, he asked, “You have a name,
Designer Shoes?”
I smiled and shook my head, not willing
to lie—or divulge the truth.
“Yeah. Me either,” he replied.
I bit my bottom lip to suppress a laugh.
Side by side, we trudged the rest of the
way in silence.
When we got to the foot of the bridge, he
turned to face me and sighed. “Well, I genuinely hope I never see you again.”
My head snapped back in shock, and maybe
a little hurt.
But he quickly corrected himself. “No! I
just mean… Shit.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair while I watched,
amused. “I just mean, given the way we met… I…um. I hope you never have a
reason to go back up there.”
I teasingly tipped my head to the side.
“But I really like the view.”
He cleared his throat. “Right. Of course,
the view. Okay, well, have a good night.”
“You too.” I smiled tightly, but my feet
didn’t budge. I told myself that it was because I didn’t want him to see my car
or the bodyguard waiting for me behind the wheel. But, in reality, I just
wasn’t ready to leave. Home wasn’t where I wanted to be. I didn’t actually want
to be anywhere.
Not even standing at the foot of a
bridge, talking to a witty and sexy man.
Okay, maybe I wanted that a little bit.
“Yep. Have a good night,” he repeated, shoving
his hands inside his pockets and slowly backing away.
I gave him a quick wave, which he
returned before he jogged in the other direction.
I smiled to myself, shaking my head at
the entire interaction—secretly lamenting that it hadn’t been longer.
Maybe there’s only
one direction to go when two people fall
in love at rock
bottom—up.
Add The Fall Up to your TBR list on GOODREADS
RELEASE DATE: October 26th
I wanted to jump.
He made me fall.
As a celebrity, I lived in the public
eye, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself in the spotlight.
Until he found me.
Sam Rivers was a gorgeous, tattooed
stranger who saved my life with nothing more than a simple conversation.
But we were both standing on
that bridge for a reason the night we met. The secrets of our pasts
brought us together—and then tore us apart.
Could we find a reason to hold on as
life constantly pulled us down?
Or maybe there’s only one direction to
go when two people fall in love at rock bottom—up.
Aly Martinez
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly
Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five,
including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what
little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands
on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her
friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles.
Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay,
or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train
she calls life.
