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.
About the Author:
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.
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