Home > My Fallen Saint (Fallen Saint #1)(2)

My Fallen Saint (Fallen Saint #1)(2)
Author: J. Kenner

“If not, I can go get it for you,” Alex said, and if I hadn’t already fallen hard, that would have sealed the deal. A real live Prince Charming right in my kitchen.

Once Uncle Peter agreed, there’d been no more reason to hang out in the kitchen, and Brandy and I reluctantly went back to the media room. “Oh. My. God,” she whisper-squealed as we climbed the stairs. “Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

“He was being polite,” I countered, though her words revived that down low tingle, now complemented by a swarm of butterflies in my belly.

“Was he?” She winked at me, and I grabbed her wrist before she could burst into the media room.

“Don’t say anything.”

“What? Why not?”

“I just … I … please? Can we tell them about the pizza and leave it at that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks.”

She gave me a quick conspiratorial smile. “But he really is super cute.”

“I know, right?” And we both burst into giggles, only to fall into total hysterics when our friend Carrie pushed open the door with a scowl.

“Hello? Waiting the movie on you two. I mean, rude.”

We clapped our hands over our mouths to bite back another flood of laughter, took our seats, and settled in until the pizza came. And even though Alex was the one who delivered it—and even though he stayed to watch the second half of Aliens and sat right next to me—Brandy never said a word. Not then. Not ever.

Which is a big part of why she’s my best friend to this day.

After that, Alex was around a lot. Peter had a home office, but he did most of his work at construction sites or in the offices of the apartments and hotels he owned. He’d hired Alex to do administrative stuff, which meant that Alex was at the house most every day.

I turned down beach and movie offers from my friends, choosing to stay in and fetch Alex water and snacks and coffee. Each time I’d linger a bit, asking what he was doing, and he’d never blow me off. He’d even invite me to stay. Then one day he asked if I wanted to help.

“Not as interesting as spending the summer with your friends,” he’d said, “but I’d love the company.” He smiled then, and that tiny little motion—nothing more than muscles around lips—had melted me.

“Good. Because I’d rather be here.”

“Would you?”

I nodded, my heart pounding with such ferocity I was sure he must be able to hear it.

“That works out great, because I like having you here.”

I met his eyes, and something deep inside me roared. For the first time in my life, I felt the hard punch of true, sexual desire.

“Right.” I swallowed, trying to overcome my desert-dry mouth.

So that’s what I did, helping him when I could, taking up space the rest of the time. And we talked. About anything and everything. I’d never been as comfortable with anyone in all my life, and that was despite the humming, buzzing, crackling in the air whenever we were near each other.

“Have you done anything?” Brandy asked when we were back in school months later.

“No! He works for my uncle, remember? Besides, he’s eighteen. Me, sixteen. And he knows it.”

She waved away my words. “Yeah, but so what? You act older. Ever since … well, my mom says you raised yourself.”

Honestly, Mrs. Bradshaw wasn’t wrong. My uncle may have sheltered and fed and clothed me these last few years, but that was about it. Nurturing, I got at Brandy’s house. And the rest? Well, I guess maybe I did raise myself.

“Eighteen,” I repeated firmly. “Nineteen next week.”

“That’s perfect.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Wrap yourself in a bow, and you can be his present.”

I didn’t give myself to him, of course, but when he turned nineteen, I gave him a leather friendship bracelet with a Celtic knot. “That’s called a love knot,” he said, and I felt my cheeks burn hot.

“I—I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t you? Well, it makes it all the more special to me.”

“Oh.”

He held out his arm to me. “Fasten it?”

I did, lightly stroking my thumb over his wrist as I manipulated the clasp.

“This is fucked up,” he said, so soft I could barely hear him.

“What?”

“Us,” he said, the words like ice.

“I’m sorry. I should—” I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. We were alone in Uncle Peter’s study, and he held me in place.

“You’re sixteen.” He practically growled the words. “Why the hell are you only sixteen?”

I shook my head, blinking as I tried to prevent the flood of tears.

“We can’t,” he said, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“I know,” I whispered. I’d been talking to the ground, but I told myself that wasn’t fair. He deserved the words. He deserved to see my heart. I looked up and met his eyes. “But I want to.”

His head tilted in the slightest of nods. “I know,” he said. “I want it, too.”

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

For months, being with Alex was both torture and bliss. It was like living in a pressure cooker, and I think we both knew that the day would come when we couldn’t fight it anymore.

Then, right after Christmas break, Brandy’s dad pulled up stakes and moved the whole family to San Diego with barely any notice at all. We’d been devastated, and the day before she left, I helped her pack her room and stayed until her mom said I had to go because the movers were coming at five in the morning. I’d left reluctantly, fighting back tears so that Brandy wouldn’t lose it all over again.

I got home to find Alex waiting up for me, ostensibly catching up on Uncle Peter’s paperwork. I’d hurried up to my room, unable to even talk to him without risking more tears.

I’d been about to doze off when I heard the light tap at my door. I propped myself up, assuming it was Uncle Peter coming to say goodnight. Instead, it was Alex.

He shut the door behind him, then stood on the far side of the room. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m sad,” I admitted, and it was as if the words were permission for the tears to flow. “I don’t think I’ve been this sad since Daddy died.”

“Oh, Ellie…” I barely registered the fact that he’d crossed the room to me. That he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I was upright and clutching him, sobbing against his shoulder.

I don’t know when he slid into bed next to me, but he did. We were both fully clothed, him in jeans and me in PJs, and he held me tight as I snuggled against him. He stroked my hair, and I cried myself to sleep. Not only because Brandy was gone, but because I knew that one day soon, Alex would leave for college, and I’d lose him as well.

Nothing happened that night. Nothing sexual, anyway. But emotionally? Well, whatever bit of my heart I’d held back was fully his by morning. He snuck out before Uncle Peter arrived, and we shared a secret smile in the kitchen as I made toast to eat on the way to school. Just a normal day. Except it would never be normal again.

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