The Falling Sky // Greta Van Fleet

Clinton - 1 year ago

I fucked up. To be honest, I've been fucking up. For years. But I was too focused, too driven, too damn stupid to know the difference.

I thought I was serving my country. But my wife was left to deal with everything at home. I left the military to join the police force and serve my community. But my family worried I wouldn't return home from my shift every time I walked out the door. The public backlash against every cop on the planet didn't help.

I won't even think about what that did to my marriage.

I can't. Not when my world is imploding around me. I turned everything upside down six months ago to avoid this exact situation. One minute I was taking my daughter to her karate lesson, and the next her teacher, Zack, was asking me to help his girlfriend with security. His girlfriend just happened to be Brianna Royce, world famous pop star and America's sweetheart. What started out as a consultation over a stalker turned into a full-time gig.

I thought once I left the force and became head of security for a famous singer, the drama would end. I thought my wife would breathe a sigh of relief and finally settle into life with me.

I was dead fucking wrong.

She told me she was done. She couldn't love a man who wasn't focused on her. She walked out and took our daughter with her. And yet, somehow, I'm still here on my knees begging her to give us another chance.

"Fuck!" I toss the worthless pen across the room. It's not inspiring the right words. Not that words are my thing. I'm not a guy who says how he's feeling but I'm trying like hell to write something that will inspire Mara to trash the divorce papers before she signs them. I'm a man of action not words, especially because I'm usually choosing all the wrong ones. Now more than ever I need the right ones.

I glance down at the lines I've managed to scratch out.

'If I could do things differently I would. But from now until forever I promise to put you first. Please give us another chance.'

I sit back. Rereading the last few words I wrote and picturing Mara's reaction, all I can imagine is the scowl she's been giving me for the last five years. Probably longer but I was deployed for the first half of our marriage so who knows.

"Shit." I curse again because this pathetic excuse for a letter won't fix what's been broken. I crumple the paper in my hands, defeated. I walk to the nearest trash can and dump the evidence of my ineptitude. I'm not a writer, far from it.

While contemplating all of the ways I've screwed up my life, my phone pings. I take a deep breath when I see it's Zack and not Mara. She stopped texting me a long time ago.

Zack: Colleen should be all settled in. We finished unloading boxes while you were at the gym.

Colleen Mackenzie, a girl from Zack's hometown who's now one of Brianna's best friends just moved into the other side of my duplex

Me: Good to know.

Zack: Bree and I feel a lot better knowing you're next door. Hollywood is a far cry from Silver Valley.

Me: Sure. I'll keep an eye out for her.

When Colleen decided to make the move from a small ranching town to Hollywood, Brianna convinced me to let her take the empty unit. "For safety," she'd said. Against my better judgement, I said yes. I bought the property shortly after Mara left me and kept the other unit vacant the entire time. I decided on a duplex figuring I'd turn it into the headquarters for my budding security business. The last thing I wanted was to add a cohabitator into the mix.

I already spend all of my conscious hours keeping my people safe. Now I'll be worried about the young woman living next door simply because she's Brianna's friend.

That's what I tell myself, anyway. Repetition might make it sink in. I can't let myself remember the first time I laid eyes on Colleen, the wide-eyed excitement exuding from her as she rode in the limo from the airport. Zack and Brianna had brought her out to California to attend one of Brianna's concerts. She'd never been out here and her excitement was palpable. It was a distraction I couldn't afford or understand at the time.

I still can't.

I'd just found out Mara wanted a divorce. My life was in shambles. The only thing keeping me going was my job. I was hyper-focused on security issues with Brianna and investigation a stalker situation. The fact that my brain dipped out of the clouds long enough to notice Colleen was jarring in itself let alone the physical reaction I had when I saw her. I pushed it away, ignored it until it's come to smack me in the face because now she's my neighbor.

A pattern of thumping noises sound against the wall in front of me pulling me out of my thoughts. Colleen's probably hanging pictures or something.

Zack: Thanks man. It means a lot. I'd do it, but the tabloids would have a field day with the optics. They'd have me two-timing Bree in ten seconds flat.

Me: We don't want that.

Zack: yeah, hard pass. Thanks for saving me the headache.

Me: Just doing my job.

Although my job has nothing to do with watching friends of a pop star. I'm contracted to develop security plans for her tour and her appearances. But here I am basically playing babysitter for my neighbor. None of this helps me win my wife back. I need to put my energy into my family. If I even have one anymore.

The thumping continues as I turn back to my futile project. I stare at the pile of papers scattered across the table, some of them blank, some of them with my embarrassing attempts at wooing my wife back into my arms. I can't let my marriage fail. But I'm not a writer and this won't work.

Another thump, this one much louder than the rest, causes me to flinch. I picture Colleen lifting a hammer and pounding it right through the sheet rock. I wonder if she knows to look for a stud, or even how to find one. Does she have the right tools? The fleeting thought that I should go help her crosses my mind. I shouldn't. I should stay on my side of the duplex.

Another thump followed by an "Ouch!" rings through the walls and I'm moving to the door. I open mine and take the six steps across the porch to her door, knocking three times with purpose.

"You okay in there?" I call when there's not an immediate answer.

Seconds later the door opens and all of the things I meant to say vanish. She's taken the breath from my lungs and the words out of my mouth. I know without a doubt that I'm undeniably screwed.

She looks up at me, full lips slightly parted, dew kissed skin. Wayward blond curls stick out from the loose ponytail on top of her head. I swallow as I take in her tank top and shorts, long legs spilling to the floor. Nope. I shouldn't be here.

"Looks like you're fine. I should..." I point to my door and step back. I stand across from her in my gym shorts and a dry-fit tee, both of which Colleen glances at before catching my gaze once more.

"I hit my thumb with the stupid hammer." Colleen holds up her thumb as evidence. "Unpacking sucks."

I nod. "Sure does. I'll leave you to it." I try once more to remove myself but stop abruptly when Colleen speaks.

"Are you busy?" she asks.

Loaded fucking question. I rub a hand over my mouth before answering, deciding in a moment to go with brutal honesty.

"Just sucking ass at writing a letter to my wife hoping like hell she drops the divorce and lets me stick around."

It's a line in the sand. I'm protecting myself by making the declaration before I can make a stupid move. Because this girl makes me stupid. I think stupid things about her skin. I picture stupid things I could do with her skin against mine. I don't want the stupid words in my head to spill out of my mouth, so I build up a brick wall instead of saying them.

Colleen stares up at me while I avert a mental crisis. I tower over her small stature, probably not much more than five feet. I feel like a giant next to her. Another reason to keep my distance. I look back to my door as she swallows.

"Do you want some help?" Her voice is small, so small it pulls my gaze back to hers.

"Help?"

"With the letter to your, um, wife." She shrugs. "By day I work in business finance but I do some writing in my free time. I could take a look, give you some pointers. If you want."

If I want? I'm not a writer. But apparently Colleen is.

"Yeah, sure. That would be...great." I turn back to my place to get the very rough thoughts I have sitting on the table and in the trash. Do I want Colleen helping me write this letter? No, I don't. Not even a little bit. But if she reads how pathetic I am, if I feel foolish in front of her, if I declare devotion to fixing my broken as fuck marriage, the line might be in concrete instead of sand. My eyes should be firmly fixed on Mara and Katie, trying to get them back. Not on the neighbor who's years too young.

I grab a handful of garbage, all that my words have amounted to on my own. I drag myself back to Colleen's front door, across her threshold and slam them down on the table ten feet inside her place. I make note of the boxes stacked here and there, grabbing the hammer off the top of one of them so it doesn't fall on her toe when she walks by.

It isn't until I see the wide-eyed look Colleen's giving me that I realize how I look. Menacing. A 6'5'' giant stomping into her house, slamming things around and wielding a hammer. I set it back down but this time on the table and not a wobbly box.

"Sorry. I'm a little keyed up."

She huffs. "I'll say." Colleen reaches out to pick up one of the discards of my inner thoughts. After a quick glance at it, she grabs another. My thoughts didn't take up much space, only a line or two on each page.

"I'm not good with words," I say, putting every vulnerable and weak characteristic on display. If I humiliate myself, I'll be safe.

"No, these aren't bad. Putting your heart out there is an endearing quality in a man. Very rare."

Well, shit. My pulse picks up, my nerves off the charts now. No. I take a deep breath and settle into the situation. I'm here asking a friend for advice, not trying to put the moves on her.

"But I do have one question," she says.

"Okay?"

Colleen picks up a few of my wrinkled and poorly worded pleas. "None of these say anything about loving her. I think that should be what you lead with."

"Oh." I stare at the papers now tossed around Colleen's table instead of mine, eyes passing from one page to the another. I started writing things down because it seemed like something Mara might like. She always complained I wasn't very romantic. I'm sure one of these says something about love. I pick one up at a time after not finding anything, rereading the words that were exceedingly difficult to put down. And Colleen's right. Not one of these says anything about love.

"Do you?" Colleen leans forward, head tilted as she takes me in.

I glance up at her for a second before returning my eyes to the pages on the table. "Do I what?"

"Love her."

"I..."

"Because everything you wrote talks about wanting your family together, promising to put her first, being the husband you should be. All of that is important, of course, but..."

"But it's not love."

Colleen sits back, shaking her head. "No. Before anything else, there should be love. A woman needs to know the man she's with loves her beyond reason. Loves her enough to sacrifice whatever it takes to be with her. And then all of the rest falls into place."

I allow myself to look at Colleen. She's Zack's age. Twenty-three, fresh out of college. Too young to have regrets, at least not the kind I live with. Too optimistic to understand the stresses that can destroy the kind of love she's talking about.

But she's right. Love should come first. And I'm not sure I love my wife the way she deserves to be loved.

I'm not sure I ever did.

I look down at the hen scratches I managed and let the defeat take over. Not only do I lack the right words, I lack the feelings behind them. I picture my daughter's face. Katie's sad eyes when I leave after seeing her. I don't want this life for her, one split between households. One where she isn't with me all the time.

"What should I say?" I ask, letting Colleen take the lead. I love my daughter enough. Mara and I can work through this for Katie's sake.

"What's in your heart?" Colleen asks.

I bend down and write a few things about love. I don't admit out loud that I'm pulling from my love for Katie instead of my wife. When Colleen gives me a smile and says 'well done' I know I've done my best.

The next morning, I take the letter to Mara, standing on her doorstep as I hand it to her. Mara doesn't look me in the eye after reading it. Her gaze is cast downward, onto my shoes, her slippers, the front porch, anything but me.

"What is it?" The pit in my stomach grows.

"It's over, Clint." Her voice is a whisper.

"It doesn't have to be. Can't we work through this? For Katie?"

A single tear flows down Mara's cheek. Still, she doesn't look at me. Dread takes form in the pit.

"I'm with someone else."

I say nothing. I know there's more.

"He wants to marry me."

"You just met." This is when she looks up at me. And I know. "You didn't just meet." An imperceptible shake of the head tells me I'm right. The pit of dread in my stomach forces bile up my throat. I don't want her to say the rest. But I need the confirmation.

"You had an affair."

"I'm so sorry."

I nod. Not sorry enough. Not if she's unwilling to try. For Katie, I would have. But I can see now its irretrievably broken.

Over.

I take the letter out of her limp hold and turn to leave. Thank god Katie's at school and doesn't have to witness this. When I get home, I tear the letter to shreds. I could tell myself I didn't really love Mara and it's all for the best, but I did love knowing I had a family.

A family I lost after years of being gone.

I won't put Katie through any more heartache. I won't put anyone through this again. Focus on my daughter. Focus on my job. Save the heartbreak for someone else.

I'm done.

What do you think? Clinton, am I right? Is he grumpy enough? Did you sense Colleen's sunny, bright personality? If you remember from Diva, she's the girl Zack had a long standing crush on, the tabloids insinuated he was having an affair with her, and Brianna ended up becoming good friends with her. And now, Clinton is desperate to keep his distance *author's smirk because we all know he won't be able to*

Originally, I thought this first chapter would be in Colleen's POV, but once I started writing it I realized, nope. It needed to be Clinton. This story will follow Diva and Player's leads, having Clinton's POV for all but one chapter, to be determined as I write.

My goal is Friday Feels updates for this one. The aesthetic image above has some hints for later in the story.  Playlist is very weak at this point, with only a few songs but heavy on the Greta Van Fleet which is Clinton's personality by the way. We'll see what develops.

https://youtu.be/Ee-rMRJCDkk

THANK YOU FOR READING!! You have no idea how amazing it is to have readers like you, people who look forward to my updates and what happens to these characters. I love it so much!!