Free Fall: an MMF romance (Wilde Boys Book 2) Page 17

Music plays from the speakers as I touch the barre, feeling the smooth surface against my fingertips. I slowly move through the routine of demi-plies, feeling more than a little rusty. The gentle stretching moves remind my soul of the life I used to live, and I'm happy to find the muscle memory is still there. The day slips away in a meditative trance as I completely lose myself in the basement, and before I realize it, it’s early afternoon, and I haven’t seen the boys all day.

  After a quick shower and grabbing a bite to eat, I head over to the office once the staff has left. As long as they’re around, I don’t exactly feel comfortable being around the boys alone. I don’t need them catching on to what’s going on between the three of us.

  I creep into the office in just my bikini, and they both look up from their laptops with coy smiles on their faces.

  “What are you working on?” I ask, crawling onto Ellis’s lap.

  “It’s boring,” he replies, stroking my arm with his thumb.

  “When will you be done? I’m bored.”

  He smells so delicious, and I’m anxious to get him undressed as fast as possible. I already miss his kiss. After the day I’ve had, I’m feeling good, uncommonly good. And nothing would top this day more than getting naked with these two.

  “This has to be done by Friday. And we’re not even a quarter of the way through.”

  Nash looks stressed again. Over the last couple of days, we managed to peel away some of this armor he hides behind, and I realize now it’s his work. Nash buries himself in his work to keep from feeling or thinking things, and I guess I can relate to that.

  “Do you think if I took my top off, he’d change his mind?” I ask, whispering to Ellis loud enough for Nash to hear.

  “Worth a try,” he replies.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Nash barks as Ellis starts fooling with the clasp on the back of my bathing suit.

  Just then my phone vibrates on the table, and I pick it up, assuming at first it’ll be another spam call or at the very least, Zara. But when I see my mother’s name on the screen, my blood runs cold.

  “You okay?” Ellis asks, noticing my expression.

  “I have to take this,” I stammer, jumping up from his lap and rushing to the door. I can’t talk to her in front of them. Once I’m outside, I hit the answer button.

  “Hanna!” She bellows, and I freeze. “Was ist falsch mit dir?”

  What is wrong with you?

  And just like that, I’m a child. No, smaller. I’m reduced to a thing, a small, stupid thing.

  “You disappear for two weeks and then I get a call from the bank telling me you put a deposit down on an apartment in the city? Are you stupid?”

  “I’m not stupid,” I mumble.

  “You don’t have money. You can’t afford this apartment, Hanna. You missed your auditions. Who are you with? Some foolish man, I’m sure. Is he rich? Is he going to pay for your apartment? I’m sure he doesn’t even love you. Why would he? You think because they will sleep with you, they must love you?”

  “I have enough saved to pay for my own place.”

  “And then what, Hanna? How will you pay your rent? You lost your job dancing because you can’t take care of yourself. You can’t do anything right, Hanna.”

  “Mother,” I snap. “I’m getting that fucking apartment and you can’t stop me! I’m not a goddamn child. I’m a grown woman.” It feels so good to stand up to her, something I should have done so long ago, and when I think I have her silenced, she manages to knock me right back down.

  “A grown woman? This is how you talk to me after everything I’ve done for you? I raised you by myself. I have given up everything for you. I’m the one who paid for all of those ballet lessons. They were very expensive, Hanna. I’m the one who made you a ballerina. You’d be nothing without me, and now you’re running away from me. So ungrateful.”

  I can’t speak. I have nothing to say. No defense. No words to fight her although I’ve rehearsed them in my head a thousand times, all the ways my mother has mistreated me, reduced me, broken me. But now they are all gone.

  “I cancelled the deposit on your apartment, Hanna. It’s gone. You need to save that money until you get hired again in another dance company, but until then, you need to be practicing and auditioning, but you’re probably not doing anything. I made you a star, but I couldn’t stop you from being so stupid.”

  The line goes dead.

  My hands are shaking as I stare down at the blank screen. I want to throw it, but I don’t. Instead, I carry myself on wobbling legs to the guest house. Once inside, I toss the phone against the couch.

  I’m such an idiot. I’ve been out here living a fantasy while my life goes to shit. I’m not clearing my head. I’m just ruining my own fucking life.

  The room is silent, a deafening silence filled only with the hateful thoughts in my head, the ones reminding me I am not worthy of the fame, the love, the happiness. None of it.

  I hate the silence, so I let out a scream, bringing it up from somewhere deep inside, straight from the source. It doesn’t make me feel any better, but it shuts up the voices.

  Once the scream is out, I pick up my bag and start packing. I have to leave. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but I can’t stay here. I can’t keep pretending these men care about me or that I deserve any of this. I don’t belong out here; I’m not even welcome. Nash never invited me, and now it’s so fucking obvious how much I’ve imposed myself.

  Fuck. What is wrong with me?

  Does he care about me? He does. He does, he does, he does, I tell myself, but it hurts to even say it. It hurts to lie to myself. Nash doesn’t care about me, and neither does Ellis. I let them fuck me like the slut I am, so of course they want me to stay now. God, I’m so stupid.

  In a fit, I toss my bag against the wall, tears streaming down my face as my chest starts to burn, radiating out from the center and spreading like fire across my skin all the way down to my fingers and toes.

  No, no, no. Not again. Please not again.

  All of my energy drains out of my body, and all I want to do is lie down, and scream and break things and cry. So, I crawl into the bed and sob, trying to stop my chest from moving so fast. My lungs refuse to take full breaths, and I feel like I’m suffocating. Clenching the bedsheets in my fists, I wait for the episode to subside, but it won’t fade away, and I know the more I panic, the more intense it becomes.

  I can’t breathe.

  I’m going to die here on the guest bed on an island where I’m not welcome surrounded by people who don’t care about me.

  “Hanna!” The front door slams against the wall as heavy footfalls chase into the bedroom.

  “Jesus Christ,” Ellis mutters.

  “Please go away!” I gasp, trying to speak through strangled breaths. It hurts to speak, my oxygen-deprived lungs burn as I try to force the words out. “Leave me alone.”

  There’s a weight on the bed. “Fuck, she’s pale.”

  “Let’s fly her to the hospital,” Nash says in alarm, and I feel his arms trying to pry me away from the bed, my face still buried in the pillows. On reflex from being touched, I panic and start swinging at him. The first thing I feel is his face against my palm, and I cry even harder.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Okay, baby. It’s okay.” His hands are gone.

  “What’s happening?” Nash asks. I can’t see him, but I hear the fear, no, disgust in his tone.

  “Panic attack,” Ellis answers, and I gasp loudly for breath again.

  “What do we do? She can’t breathe!”

  “Nash, relax. Give her space. How about a cold washcloth?”

  There’s a hand on my back, and it’s running smooth circles. It’s like needles on my bare skin, but at the same time, it’s warm and comforting.

  “That’s it, baby. Just keep breathing.”

  With my focus on his hand, I don’t even realize the tightness in my chest has subsided. It still hurts to breathe,
but I can take deeper breaths.

  “Here,” Nash stammers in a panic before I feel ice against my neck, and I jolt and shiver from the contact.

  “That’s my girl. It’s passing.”

  With my face in the pillow, I try to pretend they’re not here. I want the room to stop moving and my chest to stop aching, so I think about the motion of his hand on my back, the new scent of Nash’s cologne in my nose, and before too long, I’m left with only my tears.

  And they come on strong. The thrumming in my ears is gone, and the exhaustion in my body feels like I swam a thousand miles.

  “Hanna,” he whispers. As I peel my eyes open slowly, I’m surprised to see Nash’s face, lying on the pillow inches from mine. He’s sprawled next to me, but it’s not his hand on my back. I can tell by the weight and movement Ellis is behind me, but I don’t turn toward him.

  Instead, I bury my face again and sob. This is so fucking humiliating. I hate myself so much right now. Why am I like this?

  Nash’s hand touches mine, releasing it from the clench around the blankets to lace his fingers with mine.

  “Please go away,” I whisper against the wet pillow.

  “We’re not leaving you.”

  I don’t know which one of them says it, but it doesn’t matter because they don’t leave. They both settle close against me, still rubbing my back and squeezing my hand until the exhaustion takes over and I’m lost to sleep.

  When I open my eyes, Nash is still there. He’s lying next to me in the dark room with his eyes closed. Shifting back, I feel someone behind me too. Ellis’s clothed body is pressed tight against mine, and I’m covered in a soft blanket in just my bikini.

  Then I remember everything. From my mother’s phone call to the breakdown, and Ellis and Nash calming me down. It feels like a bad dream. Or a hangover.

  Very carefully, I climb out of the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom. When the light comes on, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. There are heavy dark circles under my eyes, makeup streaking down my cheeks, and cracks through the soft skin of my lips.

  Before going back to bed, I wash my face and try to avoid looking at the ugly thing staring back at me in the mirror. I know it’s my delusions, the evil voices in my head, telling me I’m too ugly to love.

  When I get back to the bed, Nash’s crystal blue eyes are watching me from the darkness. He doesn’t say anything, not at first. He just curls my body against his, holding me tight in his arms.

  “That used to happen to me after Preston died. I kept them away with vodka and pot, and I didn’t even care I was only making it worse.”

  Looking up into his face, I try to remember the first time I met Nash, how young he seemed then. Pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his face, I still see the same pain I recognized then.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

  Ellis shifts behind me, and I feel him bring the blanket back up around my waist, covering my body. Then his lips are on my shoulder. It’s a gentle kiss, nothing like what happened in the hangar or the pool. It’s like these two actually care about me, but how is that possible?

  And what’s the point? I can’t choose one without hurting the other. So why am I doing this to myself, letting my heart get attached?

  Because I’m stupid and I put myself in these situations.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mumble, swallowing down my humiliation.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Ellis replies, close to my ear. He’s pressed against me, so I’m literally sandwiched between the two of them, and it’s so comfortable and inviting I hate myself for how much I love it. I wish it could always be like this.

  “Who was on the phone?” Nash asks.

  Shutting my eyes, I answer him. “My mother.”

  “What did she say?”

  I scoff. “Aside from what a failure and disappointment I am? She let me know how she cancelled the deposit on the apartment because she still has executive power over my bank account since my breakdown last year.”

  “Hanna,” Ellis says, and I hate the disappointment in his voice. I know I shouldn’t give her so much power, but what else can I do?

  “I have no one else. What am I supposed to do?” I ask, tears brimming my lashes again.

  “You have us,” Nash says, squeezing me closer.

  “You don’t need anyone,” Ellis adds.

  “She’s right though. I don’t have a job or a future. I threw away my dance career. I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions for myself anymore.”

  “You know that’s not true,” he replies against my back.

  “I don’t know what’s true.” I’m sobbing now, soaking the pillow again, but this time, I’m not spiraling out of control. I’m safely grounded, tethered to them. “She’s been telling me my entire life how I wasn’t wanted. She couldn’t take me back to Germany because I was born out of wedlock, how my own family would hate me because my skin is a little darker than hers. She used to tell me I had to be a perfect dancer like I had to earn my love, and eventually…it broke me.”

  Crying into the pillow, I let everything out. I feel only their lips and hands on my body, tender and careful but also assertive and convincing.

  And it is convincing. After these strange two weeks, I’m feeling things I never expected to feel. I was never supposed to fall for either of them, and at the very least, I expected sex. But this? This is so much more. It’s confusing and terrifying, overwhelming and exciting.

  But it can’t last.

  Nash and I would be dangerous together. With no one around to settle our tempers, everything about our relationship would be toxic. Not to mention, Zara would be hurt. She might not express it, but she’s my best friend and Nash is her ex. Or more than that really. They still hold such a big part in each other’s lives, and she would never treat me the same way again. It’s bad enough what I’ve already done.

  And Ellis? Even if I could somehow live up to his perfection, get through each day knowing I’m not quite worthy of his full attention, I know being with him would break Nash. And that’s not fair.

  Somehow, even knowing this, I keep a hold of both of them, loving the way it feels in this moment. The safety and peace I feel in my heart is addictive, and I’m not ready to let it go.

  I don’t think I ever will be.

  22

  It’s well after three in the morning when she finally stops crying, but none of us fall asleep. Instead, we stroke her back, keep her close, plant warm kisses on her body, and never leave her side for a second.

  Finally, Ellis gets out of the bed first, disappearing into the bathroom, and I wonder what he’s doing until I hear the shower running.

  “Come on, baby.” He lifts her carefully, cradling her in his arms, and I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s so collected. Like he knows exactly what everyone wants or needs at all times. Doesn’t he ever second-guess anything? Doesn’t he ever worry he’s wrong?

  He’s not in this instance. I follow them into the bathroom, and find him tenderly undressing her from her bathing suit, keeping his eyes on her face as he does. And when he tries to help her into the shower, she reaches for him.

  “Stay with me,” she whispers.

  There’s only a moment of hesitation before he peels off his clothes until he’s naked climbing into the shower with her. I should feel like I’m imposing on something, but I don’t. Instead, I lean against the door frame and watch them through the frosted glass. She’s burying her face against him as he wraps his arms around her.

  “Nash,” she calls.

  Ellis peers my way, no expression on his face. He and I still haven’t spoken about anything outside of work since yesterday, but I try not to dig up those memories right now. Instead, I shed my clothes quickly and step into the water with them. This shower isn’t nearly as big as mine in the main house, so it keeps us close to each other, which is exactly what she needs. Pressed between our bodies, Ellis and I take turns washing her up,
taking care of each delicate limb and inch of her body.

  After the shower, we take her to the main house to get something to eat. It feels good to feed her, take care of her, give her what she needs. I’ve never really been in this position before. It’s always me being the one getting taken care of.

  Then I remember more than once Preston sneaking into Dad’s liquor cabinet and getting so hammered he needed me to help him to the toilet, and yeah as weird as it was, I liked taking care of him. I liked being the responsible one.

  Hanna sits at the kitchen island, wrapped in blankets, sipping on the tea Ellis made her while I cook up some leftover pasta Thalia left in the fridge. Okay, so I’m not a chef like my dad, but I can at least do this much.

  She’s gotten some color back in her cheeks. The way she looked when we found her still haunts me. Her skin was almost gray, and her body was contorted in a strange position. There were beads of sweat across her face, but her skin was almost cold. I hated it. I never want to see her like that again.

  Every few minutes my eyes meet Ellis’s in the kitchen, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. Hanna cannot go back there. She can’t live with that woman again, not when it took one phone call to have her falling to pieces. The emotional damage that woman has inflicted on her own daughter…fuck—it has me fuming.

  After next week, she has to stay here. I have to find a way to get her to stay.

  The three of us spend the next hour talking and before long we’re actually laughing. Hanna is smiling, and it makes me happy to see those pearly whites between her lips.

  “Shit, what time is it?” she asks.

  “Four-forty-five.”

  “Damn, the sun will be coming up soon. I’m not even tired.” I almost don’t want this night to end. It’s been so nice.

  Then, an idea hits me.

  “Come on.”

  They both look at me skeptically as I slip my shoes on and head for the garage where the keys are kept.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, following me to the aircraft parked outside.

  I don’t answer her as I open the door for her. She stops with Ellis following behind. There’s a twinkle in her eye and a subtle smirk on his face.