Falling Fast (Falling Fast #1) - Tina Wainscott Page 0,6

you as much.

Mia thought of all the times she’d considered picking up the phone and calling but hadn’t. She’d sent emails, cards, chatty updates, but going no deeper. She never talked about the support group for disfigured people she’d joined, and where she met the only other man she’d ever dated. Or the fear that, because of the chemo, she wouldn’t be able to have babies. Maybe because she was afraid her grandmother might relay it to Raleigh.

She ran her finger over the silky ribbon and whispered, “Grandma, I’m sorry I didn’t call more often. Or visit. Coming here…” She released a soft breath and wiped the moisture from her eyes. “It would have been too painful.” The sunlight played off the scars on the backs of her hands.

“Just in time,” the lady said, tossing the remainder of her roll into a large plastic bin. She made her way over and held out her hand to Mia. “Here, I’ll take yours. Nice job.”

Mia followed her gaze to the cars that were beginning to pull up and park. She scanned each group as they emerged and meandered toward them. Some recognized her father from the dredging project. Few recognized her mother, who spent most of her time in Florida visiting a college friend in Miami, flying home to oversee some charity ball, or any other excuse to flee Chambliss. Some met her gaze and smiled. Many knew about the accident and were probably assessing how she had fared. From a distance, with the heavy base makeup, she could almost pass as normal.

Mia wandered over to her parents, taking in the new wave of people drifting toward the tent. No Raleigh.

He probably wouldn’t come, knowing her parents would be there. She had to convince herself of that so she could relax her bunched-up muscles and roaming gaze. The tight coil of her heart.

But you hope he comes. Just to drink in the sight of him. The memories.

She turned around to take in the people milling about, some sharing a story and laughing softly, others crying. Grandma had volunteered at the Chamber of Commerce and at Meals on Wheels. She would be missed by many. No one but her mother was wearing black.

The director gestured for everyone to take a seat, and Mia settled onto the chair at the outside edge. She scanned each and every person.

No Raleigh.

He’s not coming. Get over it already.

The director, who knew Nancy from their volunteer work, welcomed everyone and said how touched she would be by the turnout. He introduced Mia and her parents, then spoke at length about the wonderful and sweet and feisty Nancy.

As Mia teared up over his sentimental words, she saw him. She blinked, just to make sure, but her heart knew immediately. The director’s voice faded into the roar of blood in her ears.

Raleigh.

He stood behind the last row of chairs next to the thick trunk of an oak tree, in khakis and a maroon button-down dress shirt. His hair was trimmed, and he was clean-shaven. Not an ounce of fat on him judging by the way his shirt lay flat against his stomach. She gripped the edges of the chair as the ground tilted. Or was she tilting? God, don’t let me fall off the chair! No, you’re dizzy because you, uh, forgot to breathe!

Carefully, she pulled in a long, deep breath. Then another. The world was still blurry, and she wiped at her eyes to clear them—and found Raleigh in her sights. Which was even more startling, because she was pretty sure he was looking right at her.

She forced herself to breathe again, to shift her gaze to where it should be. The director invited people to come up and share a story or their thoughts. There was no hesitation as the first person stepped up to the microphone stand positioned in front of the chairs.

Several people spoke from their hearts over the next twenty minutes, and everyone dabbed at their eyes, including Mia. She wrestled with whether to go up, but to put herself on display was more than she could bear. Her father went up and sounded like a politician as he thanked everyone for coming. The director made one last call, and Mia’s eyes went to Raleigh again. He leaned forward, his hand clenched on the tree. He clearly wanted to go up, but he looked at her father. Then at her. Then he rocked back on his heels again, his face tight with the war inside