Imperfectly Perfect

Chapter 7

seven

Fallon had lied.

When she’d told Athena she wasn’t interested in anything beyond mere friendship, she had flat-out lied. Because she was. Otherwise she wouldn’t have found herself at Savannah’s apartment, sitting on her couch while Savannah puttered in the kitchen, making her a drink.

The apartment was warm in ways that Fallon’s wasn’t. There were obvious signs of Brinley, though everything had been put away in its proper place. Not that Fallon really cared about that, but she would care if someone had come to her apartment unexpectedly and seen the disaster that was there on a good day. Organized and put together at work didn’t mean she was the same in her own apartment.

Eventually, the nerves became too much, and Fallon stood up and made her way to the small galley kitchen. Leaning against the doorway she looked Savannah over. The dress was a bit too short when Savannah bent down to grab something on a bottom shelf, and the black fabric rode up high on her thigh and teased the edge of her ass. Fallon couldn’t stop the quirk of her lips as she raked her gaze over Savannah’s body.

“Need any help?” Fallon’s voice carried through the small kitchen.

Savannah jerked with a start, as if she hadn’t noticed Fallon coming into the kitchen to begin with. Savannah slowly straightened, tugging the edge of her dress down over that very creamy and delicious thigh. Fallon flicked her gaze directly to Savannah’s eyes and let all that arousal pool into the look.

“Uh… no. Wasn’t I supposed to make you the drink of my choice?”

“You were.” Fallon wanted desperately to walk forward and pin Savannah against the counter, press their mouths together, and see just what could happen. But she held still, not quite sure where they stood yet and knowing that they hadn’t discussed arrangements.

Because if there was one thing Fallon understood and Savannah didn’t, it was that relationships were off the table.

Permanently.

Still, Fallon could enjoy looking for now. She could enjoy wondering and imagining. She could be here for what they had in this moment and nothing else. At least not until they had a chance to genuinely talk about whether more was something they both wanted.

Savannah set several bottles and a small can of Coke Zero on the counter. Fallon watched with rapt attention as Savannah moved the bottles, sliding them across the laminate countertop as she poured a dash of something and twisted the cap back on.

“What are you making me?” Fallon’s chest tightened as she watched Savannah's dexterous fingers move. What else could she do with those fingers?

Savannah looked over her shoulder, her blonde hair sliding over her back with the move. What Fallon would give to be able to tug on the ends just a little bit. To run her fingers up into Savannah’s hair and turn her head so they could kiss. She was pretty sure that every thought she had could be read across her face, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t mind it at all.

“I’m pretty sure you said I could make you whatever I wanted.”

“I did,” Fallon answered, stepping closer. She couldn’t resist any longer. She would push the boundaries of what they’d set just slightly enough to find out if Savannah was interested in having a more open conversation about what they could become together. “So what is it?”

“Nothing special,” Savannah murmured, her fingers trembling as she reached for the next bottle.

“Then you can tell me what it is.” Fallon leaned her back against the counter, facing the opposite direction of Savannah in the small kitchen. She wasn’t going to move now if she had a chance.

Savannah poured the last bottle in and then added the Coke Zero on top. She dropped a straw into the glass and mixed everything around as best as she could before handing the glass to Fallon. The glass was cold, but Savannah’s fingers were warm. Fallon stared into the concoction, her heart stuttering up a few paces now that they’d touched again.

When she would have expected Savannah to walk away, she didn’t. She repeated her steps and made a second drink. Finally turning, Savannah lifted her glass up, expecting a toast. Intrigued, Fallon chinked their glasses together before wrapping her lips around the straw and sucking. Immediately, she smiled.

“Long Island.”

Savannah blushed and shrugged slightly. “It is one of my favorites.”

“I’ve never seen someone make one before, or realized just what goes into it.” Fallon reached forward and turned one of the bottles around to read it.

“So you do drink hard liquor?”

“On occasion.” Fallon set her glass down, leaning in. She knew the height difference could intimidate even the best of them. Fallon was tall to begin with, but she refused to not wear heels just because of that. What she really wanted right now was a nice drink of Savannah.

The banging on the door surprised them both. Savannah jumped. Fallon tensed. She held her breath as she turned toward the door they’d come in while Savannah bustled her way out of the kitchen.

Should she follow?

Instinct told her to stay put, hide away where the person on the other side of that door couldn’t see her, but this was Savannah. And if there was danger, it would be better for the two of them to face it together. Wouldn’t it?

Stepping to the edge of the kitchen after setting down her drink, Fallon watched with rapt attention as Savannah opened the front door. She didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was there. Did she know whoever this intruder was? Just based on the knock?

Fallon’s chest constricted tightly. Those same old fears she’d thought were left behind rearing their ugly heads. This was something she knew she and Athena shared, even if Athena never said the words out loud. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, Fallon stepped around the corner just in time to see a burly man with a potbelly and a small girl cowering beside him.

Tears sprang into Fallon’s eyes, but she controlled them easily enough.

She had been that girl more times than she cared to admit, and she would never put herself in that situation again. She would never allow herself to be subject to abuse of any kind. And if that meant living and staying alone, then she absolutely would.

“It’s your night,” the man said loudly, his voice reverberating through the small apartment as if the louder he was the more people would pay attention to him.

And to be fair, that probably worked a lot of the time.

“Forrest, I have company.” Savannah’s voice shook.

Fallon was certain that it was a warning for him to behave, but she wasn’t convinced that Forrest—who was undoubtedly Savannah’s ex—was going to comply with her subtle request. Fallon straightened up to her full height. She was just as tall as him now. And she had no issue giving him a scathing look, one that meant business, one that should put him in his place.

“I called you a dozen times and you never answered.”

“You didn’t…” Savannah trailed off.

Fallon could feel the tension coming off her in waves from feet away. And poor Brinley just stood next to her father, her shoulders rounded, her chin tilted toward the floor, and she didn’t even bother looking up.

“It doesn’t matter. Come on, Brin.” Savannah held her hand out for her daughter to take.

Brinley made her way inside, and as soon as she was past her mother, her entire posture changed. She lightened, her face opening, her eyes widening. This was her safe place, and Fallon knew it without a doubt. That was something she couldn’t mess with. Brinley deserved it as much as Fallon never had it—at least not until she’d moved in with Tia.

On a whim, Fallon grabbed her purse off the couch and slid her arm through the handle. She started for the door, nodding at Brinley but not saying anything. She wasn’t sure how this would play out or what Savannah wanted to tell Brinley about who she was. She’d leave that in the very capable hands of Brinley’s mother.

But she needed to get out of there. The obtrusive and egotistical attitude that Forrest brought with him set Fallon off. It wasn’t something she couldn’t control, but she could choose whether or not she wanted to stay there, and it was a definite not . She didn’t know Savannah well enough to explain what was happening inside her, and right now, all she needed was an easy and simple escape.

Fallon reached the door, still blocked by Forrest. She blinked at him, keeping her chin raised high and her shoulders squared. “Excuse me.”

“Well, aren’t you a fine thing?”

Where had they gone? The Deep South? Fallon’s lips nearly parted in surprise, but she managed to hold herself together and plaster on the best bitchy face she could muster.

“I am,” Fallon answered simply. She knew it would throw Forrest off his game, and sure enough, the surprised expression on his ugly mug was enough to tell her that she was on the right track. Savannah screamed submissive in this relationship, and a bit in life in general. Fallon had no doubts that Forrest hadn’t met a woman who would push him as much as he pushed women.

Forrest glanced at Savannah and then to Fallon, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t believe you’d want to be with someone like her.”

“Are you saying that because you deem your ex-wife to be unworthy of a healthy, consistent, and loving relationship? Or are you saying that because you can’t fathom that a woman might choose another woman over yourself, which I must say, isn’t a hard choice at all.” Fallon tightened her grasp on her purse strap before dropping her hands to her sides. She would face him with everything she had.

“Come with me and I can show you a much better time than Savannah could.”

“I highly doubt that. Besides, I don’t swing in your direction.” Fallon said the last bit to Savannah, making sure that her meaning was clear. She did like women, and she would never ignore that fact about her life.

“You’re a dyke?” Forest spat out the word like a curse.

Fallon instantly shuddered. Straightening herself sharply, she faced Forrest again and shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not a dyke . I’m attracted to men, women, trans, nonbinary, and whoever a person is so long as they’re not an asshat with an ego the size of Texas.”

“What?”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Fallon pushed her way past Forrest and out the door. She nodded toward Savannah but said nothing as she stepped around the big lug of an ex and breathed in the fresh air of the hallway. She didn’t turn around because she knew for a fact that Forrest wasn’t following her.

And she was damn determined to have already driven away by the time he got back to his car. Fallon took the elevator, thankful that it was still on the right floor. Once she was outside, with the rain on her cheeks, she closed her eyes and let the cold air wrap her in its embrace.

She never wanted to be in that situation again.

She never wanted to be stuck in a place where she couldn’t escape, and she would never let someone talk to her like that. Sliding behind her wheel, she turned on the car and waited for her phone to connect to the Bluetooth. She was about to do something she never thought she would.

Calling Monti, Fallon drove out of the parking lot and headed toward home. Monti answered on the fourth ring—thankfully. She was notorious for sending Fallon’s calls to voicemail, but ever since she and Athena had started up together, she had gotten much better about actually talking to Fallon.

“You okay?” Monti asked, the concern already edging through her voice.

“No,” Fallon responded, hitting her blinker so she could take the next turn. “How’d you know?”

“It’s late, and you’re a morning person. You never call me after eight.”

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” Fallon mumbled as she turned the steering wheel. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to pull the tension from her body, but it wasn’t working. At least not yet. She needed a few more hours to lower her trauma activation.

“What’s wrong, Fallon?”

“Are you alone?” The last thing Fallon wanted was for Athena to hear any part of what she was going to ask, any part of the conversation that could be construed as prying into her boss’s personal life. That was definitely not something that she wanted to do, but she had to know.

“Yes. Athena’s at her place tonight.”

“Good.” Fallon pulled onto I-5 and pressed her foot onto the gas.

“Seriously, you’re worrying me. You haven’t told me what’s wrong. Is Tia okay?”

“Tia’s fine.” Fallon clenched her jaw. If Monti would talk to Tia more often, then she would know that. But Fallon had to stop herself before she headed down that path of destruction. She couldn’t force a relationship where they didn’t want one, and she couldn’t make it what she wanted it to be. She was still working on that one. “Why would you do it?”

“Do what?” Monti sounded more confused now than ever before.

“Why would you ever be in a relationship with someone as surrounded by abuse as we were?” The question was out there, though Fallon was fairly certain she hadn’t asked it in a way that Monti would understand. She was never very good at that.

“Oh.” Monti’s voice dropped.

A pregnant pause where neither of them said anything stole over the car, and the silence was so loud that it was nearly painful.

“For a long, long time, I never wanted to give anyone that kind of power. I never wanted love, even yours, because to me that meant I was a burden, that you would suffer because of who I was, and I couldn’t have that anymore.”

Fallon sucked in a sharp breath. She had never realized Monti felt like that, that her pulling back was all because she didn’t want to hurt or cause worry. Pulling off the highway, Fallon parked in a gas station parking lot and stared at the brick wall in front of her.

“But now?”

“Now I still struggle with that.” Monti half-laughed. “But I think I’m getting better at it, don’t you?”

Fallon wasn’t sure what to say to that. Had Monti been around more? Yes. But she’d always just chalked that up to her relationship with Athena, not because Monti was trying to make changes. Relaxing her shoulders, Fallon settled into her seat.

“What Mom and Dad did fucked us up, Fallon. I just decided to stop giving them the power to continue doing that decades after their death.”

That did make sense. But Fallon still hated that she might ever be in a situation where she could become even more like her mom. Growing up, everyone said she looked so much like her, insisted that Fallon was her mom in miniature form. It had never gotten easier. And she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

“Thanks. I’ll uh… talk to you soon.”

“We should get dinner sometime. Just you and me.”

“Yeah.” Fallon tried to swallow the lump in her throat this time, but she didn’t quite manage it and her voice came out rougher than expected. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“See you soon, Sis.”

Fallon ended the call, the tears that had been in her eyes finally falling freely down her cheeks. The release valve had opened, and she wasn’t going to manage to crank it closed for a while. Closing her eyes and resting her forehead on the steering wheel, Fallon let the sobs rack through her body and hold her in their grasp.

She’d pull herself together in a few minutes.

That was all she needed.