Fall into Me - Mila Gray Page 0,1

to trust me not to abandon her again.

“How’s it going?” Tristan asks, and I pick up on the concern in his voice. His worry isn’t obvious, but I’m good at reading people. You get good when you have a father like mine, whose moods flipped on a dime. You also get good at it when you have to stand guard outside a Marine base.

“Okay,” I tell him. “Finding my feet.”

I’ve only been out of the Marines a couple of weeks. They warn you it’ll be strange returning to civilian life, and they are definitely right about that. I’m still getting used to not having to get out of bed at the crack of dawn, or wearing a uniform, or carrying a weapon with me wherever I go.

But I don’t miss a thing about being in the Marines. I couldn’t wait to get out. I figured I would feel like a free man, like the guy in the Shawshank Redemption movie who hightails it to Mexico after being released from prison to live on the beach and build his own boat. I have similar ambitions, but unlike the guy in the movie, I don’t have a stash of cash hidden away to help me achieve my dreams.

Until I have a job and some money and start paying off my debt, I’m stuck here. Not that Oceanside is bad—as its name suggests, it’s by the ocean. But it’s just not what I’ve been dreaming of for the last seven years.

“You’ll get there,” Tristan tells me with more confidence than I feel. “Did you talk to Kit?”

I shake my head. I haven’t seen Kit yet. He’s busy with the restaurant and the new baby. I don’t want to get in the way.

“You should ask him for a job,” Tristan says. “He’s always looking for people to work at the restaurant.”

“I can’t cook,” I say, pulling a face. “And I’m not sure I’d make much of a waiter.” I’m not the best at dealing with people, especially difficult ones. I don’t have the patience for rude idiots. But more than that, I don’t want to have to ask Kit for a job. It’s embarrassing.

“I’ll find something. Don’t worry,” I tell Tristan, forcing a smile. It’s not his problem.

We enter the house, which is packed with so many gold helium balloons that it’s like we’re swimming in a giant glass of champagne. Waiters drift past with trays of drinks and fancy-looking burgers the size of quarters, and a DJ is playing somewhere in the distance. There must be over a hundred people, but I spot Tristan’s twin sister, Dahlia, immediately as she rushes toward us through the crowd.

I used to have a crush on Dahlia, back when we were all fourteen and at school together, and I wonder if she ever suspected. I was pretty good at hiding my feelings, and I never worked up the courage to tell her how I felt because I figured she’d never feel the same way. Why the hell would she? I was the kid who was always getting into trouble, the one with the shameful family secret, who’d often show up to school with black eyes and bruises and act all sullen when questioned. I figured my survival rested on being both watchful and quiet, habits that have stuck with me.

I was surprised Dahlia invited me to the party, to be honest, as I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen and quit school to enlist. I’m guessing Tristan pushed for the invite, trying to get me out of the house. But Dahlia throws her arms around me and hugs me tight, and I realize that maybe she did actually invite me herself, without being prodded to.

She pulls back to look at me, holding me by the shoulders. “My God!” she shouts over the music, squeezing my biceps. “Look at you! Someone’s been to the gym.” She eyes me up and down approvingly. “Like the beard. It suits you.”

“Hey, Dahlia,” I say, rubbing a self-conscious hand across my scratchy beard. I haven’t bothered to shave in two weeks because I don’t have to anymore and it feels good to not have to follow orders. “You look just the same.”

She winces. “I hope not. I was the ugliest, dorkiest teenager. But now I’ve blossomed. Don’t you think?” She twirls in front of me with a big grin.

I smile. “Yes. You’ve lost the dorkiness. At least, mostly.”

“You have to meet the birthday girl,” she says, and pulls me by the