Romeo Falling, page 1
For the daydreamers
Chapter titles in Romeo Falling are quotations from William Shakespeare's masterpiece, Romeo and Juliet
Copyright © 25 July 2024 Jesse H Reign
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Book formatting by Jesse H Reign
Cover design by Sleepy Fox Studios
Editing and proofreading by Abbie Nicole
Romeo Falling is an angsty, obsessive, possessive MM Romance. It contains on-page cheating (not between MC's), death of a close family member, and depression. While there's pining and heartache aplenty, an epic, hard-won HEA is absolutely guaranteed.
Contents
1. “His name is Romeo”
2. “Dream things true”
3. “The face of heaven so fine”
4. “O teach me how I should forget”
5. “Romeo, Romeo”
6. “Dreamers often lie”
7. “Thus with a kiss I die”
8. “Poison hath residence”
9. “Under love’s heavy burden do I sink”
10. “Be but sworn my love”
11. “O happy dagger, this is thy sheath”
12. “A winged messenger of heaven”
13. “Fire and powder”
14. “The day is hot”
15. “Mad blood stirring”
16. “That all the world will be in love with night”
17. “Fortunes fool”
18. “I gave thee mine before thou didst request it”
19. “Here’s to my love”
20. “Do not swear by the moon, for she changes”
21. “A pair of star-crossed lovers”
22. “Give me my Romeo”
23. “A sea nourished with lovers’ tears”
24. “If love be rough with you, be rough with love”
25. “Come night, come Romeo”
26. “I drink to thee”
27. “Give me thy hand”
28. “Stony limits can’t keep love out”
Thank you
Acknowledgements
Also by Jesse H Reign
Titles on Audible
Stalk me
1
“His name is Romeo”
Now
Romeo always said there was a forcefield spanning the length and breadth of our town. A join in the tar, a slight step down that tracks across the motorway just near the Welcome to Alabaster Falls sign on the outskirts of town. He said that was where the forcefield started. He said that when car tires bumped over the seam in the road, time was altered. It changed. It moved slower and faster. Nothing happened for hours and days, but years passed in the blink of an eye. He said that in Alabaster, life was a dream that happened while we slept.
He was always saying things like that.
For all I know, he still does.
Blue sky and dappled foliage form a long, cloudy trail on either side of me as I careen down the highway. Now and again, the cloud is flecked with long, thin streaks of crimson. Sour cherries. Red, but not ripe. Not yet. My belly clenches as I round the bend and the sign comes into view.
Welcome to Alabaster Falls
Welcome.
Ha!
How long has it been since I’ve felt welcome here?
The sign is faded, but it’s hard to tell if it’s more faded than the last time I was home or if it’s the same. It’s possible it was already as faded as a sign can get long before I left Alabaster. It isn’t just faded now though. It’s crooked, too, and that’s new. A subtle tilt down on the left. A screw that’s come loose and hasn’t been replaced.
I spot the tear in time, as Romeo used to call the seam in the road, about a hundred feet away. I wouldn’t notice it if I didn’t know it was there, but it was a big deal to us when we were kids, so I do. Romeo said we had to lift both feet, they couldn’t touch anything but air when we crossed it, or the tear would rip. At some point, that little ritual evolved to include waving our hands around our heads wildly and yelling, “La-la-la-la-laaaa!” at the top of our lungs as the car thunked over the line.
We always did it. We were religious about it when we were little. As we got older, we stopped doing it when others were in the car with us. We didn’t talk about it or make a conscious decision to do it. It just happened. When we were alone, we did it well into our twenties. At the time, it felt like one of those things that would never change. Something we’d do forever.
I slow the car, watching as the speedometer drops steadily from eighty to sixty, keeping one foot firmly on the floorboard of my Mazda while tapping the brakes with the other.
It’s strange how a place can be the same yet feel completely different. The main street is just as it was when I left. Sure, there’s a new fancy confection store, complete with larger-than-life twirled lollypops at the door, and Mo’s Diner has become a coffee shop with a seven-page menu, but cars still park diagonally on either side of the street and kids congregate on the corner outside the hardware store while Mr. Matherson, the owner, shoos them away at regular intervals with an exasperated, “Go on. Git!”
The bell over the grocery store door sounds its tinny greeting as I enter. The lighting is better, and the place has been retiled with shiny white-and-gray checkered tiles, but the shelves and layout are unchanged.
I’m tired, worn out from the drive, and suddenly weighed down by the reality of being back, so I take a basket, not a cart, from near the flowers and potted plants and toss coffee, cream, and sugar into my basket before heading to the bakery for a loaf of fresh bread. The warm, yeasty aroma has me reaching for two loaves instead of one. I planned on ordering in tonight, but now I think some ham, cheese, and butter might be all I need.
And wine.
God knows I need wine.
To my surprise, I find a couple of bottles of 2019 Lang and Reed Cabernet Franc pushed all the way to the back of the top shelf. The bottles are dusty, but I’m so pleased with my find that I put them both in my basket.
Maybe things have changed in Alabaster after all.
Maybe coming home won’t be as bad as I’ve made it out to be in my head.
On a whim, I decide to see if there are any cherries in the fruit aisle. It’s early in the season, but only by a week or two. There’s a chance an overeager crop has made its way into stock. I have sugar, I could stew them tonight and have them with yogurt in the morning. It’s a sweet-and-sour concoction I’ve always loved. To me, it tastes like long days and short nights. Afternoons at the pool and lazy mornings spent sleeping in. Summer days that drag out and roll into one.
My basket hangs by my side, there, but not heavy or cumbersome. I pass the grain and canned goods aisle and hang a left. I see bananas and tangerines. Rock melons stacked high. A shopping cart and a pair of legs. Long, graceful fingers cradling a melon.
There’s a sharp, harsh intake of breath. It isn’t mine.
Long fingers go lax.
The melon slips.
It’s one of those moments when time slows. When you see something happening, but you can’t move quickly enough to stop it. I see it all clearly. Pale eyes widen in shock. A mouth does too. The melon falls in distinct stages, as if in slow motion. If time were normal, I’d step forward and reach out. My hands would move. So would my legs. I’d catch it with ease.
Time is far from normal, so I stand, paralyzed, as the melon continues its descent. Slowly. Slowly. I watch as it lands. Perfectly spherical one second, oval and bulging the next. A small crack appears on the surface. A jagged line that cuts deep. It grows deeper and deeper, splitting on impact and sending a spray of sweet, sticky juice and seeds into the air and all over the floor.
The perfect lines of the white-and-gray tile are altered. Changed. Splattered like the scene of a crime.
Graceful fingers clench as if bracing for impact. A pair of wild, watery eyes find mine and blink.
I thought I had time to prepare for this moment. More time. Of course I knew it was a possibility—a probability even—that I’d see him. Alabaster Falls is a small town. A tiny town. The kind of town where everyone knows everyone. I didn’t think I’d be able to avoid him completely. It was bound to happen. I knew it would, I just thought there’d be more time. I thought I’d be ready. More ready, given how long it’s been.
I’m not ready though.
And I’m sure as hell not prepared.
A familiar face swims into view. It’s a face I know well. The face of the only man I’ve ever loved. Or hated. He takes a step back, his head and neck jerking as if he’s walked into a solid surface and is reeling from the impact. His hands are raised now. Palms open, but not in surrender.
People around us stop moving. Mothers grab their children to stop them from stepping into the big mess between us. There’s a short pause. A lull. And then normality resumes. People start milling around again as if nothing happened.
Not us.
We don’t move.
We both stand frozen.
My chest caves and my heart stops beating. The words I manage to formulate are dry and cr
“Hey, Romeo.”
He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have time to. My mortal enemy approaches at speed. Such speed, I don’t have time to react, to defend myself, or raise my guard. My enemy is slight, a slip of a person, a tiny thing with silky brown hair and large doe eyes. A sweet face and a bright smile.
Don’t let that fool you.
Her capacity to cause carnage is endless.
“Jude!” she cries, throwing her arms around me. “I can’t believe it! Oh my God, how long has it been?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Too long! It’s been too long. Way too long.” She fixes Romeo with a stern, chastising look. “And as for you, mister, why didn’t you tell me Jude was coming to town? You know I hate surprises.”
She steps aside, clearing a path between us, and looks at Romeo expectantly. He’s well-trained. A dutiful husband. A husband who knows his wife well and understands what she expects. I understand too. She expects us to embrace. It’s what good friends do when they haven’t seen each other for long periods of time, after all. It’s normal.
Romeo steps forward and wraps a single arm loosely around my shoulders, taking care not to touch me any more than he absolutely has to. The smell and feel of him slices through bone. There’s steel in his spine. He’s hard and cold, and he somehow manages to pull me toward him and push me away. I lean in even though I don’t mean to. In fact, I mean not to. I mean to hold back just as hard as he does, but he’s Romeo, and my spine is spaghetti, not steel. His cheek brushes lightly against mine as I embrace him. Sandpaper on skin. I wince from the impact and disentangle myself from him as fast as I can.
My heart beats like it’s under attack.
Romeo’s mouth tenses at the right corner and scoots to the side. One shoulder dips, hollowing his chest, and the other draws up high enough to form a shadow under his clavicle. It’s a sexy as fuck, nonchalant shrug that makes years of tears scream. Wind whips through bare branches, howling, as what happened between us years ago rushes toward me.
I’m confused. I look at him, then her, and then him again. Even though no one’s talking, we’re having an in-depth conversation in a language I don’t understand. It takes me a full five seconds to piece it together.
She doesn’t know.
Selby doesn’t know that Romeo and I don’t talk anymore. She has no idea there’s no such thing as Romeo and me anymore. We were best friends all our lives, and it’s been five years since we’ve said a word to each other, and his wife has no clue.
He hasn’t told her a goddamn thing.
I don’t know why that surprises me. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does.
“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” Selby swipes her fingers lightly across her forehead and shakes her head. “What am I thinking? Of course you’re coming over.”
“Jude’s had a long trip. He’s tired.” Romeo’s face is unperturbed, features relaxed. To the innocent bystander, he shows no sign of feeling anything untoward—or feeling anything at all, for that matter. There’s a very slight heaviness of his brows though, something you probably wouldn’t notice unless you know him like I do. Like I did. Other than that, he looks completely at ease.
He’s good. I’ll give him that.
He aims his perfect face at me and fixes me with a long, warning look that clearly says be cool. Be cool? The fuck if I will be. “We’ll see him tomorrow though. We’ll have chicken fajitas and toss a few beers back, just like the old days.”
That upsets my footing, knocking me off balance and sending me reeling. Spinning, falling, or flying, I can’t tell which. It confuses me and wakes a part of me I thought was long dead and buried. A small, stupid part that bases its happiness entirely on insignificant things like Romeo knowing my favorite food.
2
“Dream things true”
Then
I met Romeo in August. I know that because my mom put a back-to-school countdown calendar on the fridge. Every night before bed, we stood in front of the fridge and crossed out the day that had passed. Most nights, Lexi and I fought about whose turn it was to use the pen. Or which pen to use. Or who was standing too close to the other. Most nights, my mom let her eyes flutter shut, took a deep breath, and tried not to look happy when she told us how many days of vacation we had left.
It had been a long, hot summer. Hotter and drier than usual for Michigan. I’d turned seven in June and Lexi was eleven. She’d started to find me annoying, through no fault of my own, and I’d started to find her boring because she’d become incredibly boring. She never wanted to play, and she spent all her time in her room, reading boring books or hanging out with her boring friends, yelling at me to leave her alone.
“Come on, you,” said my mom, taking me firmly by the shoulder. “You need to get out of the house. Fresh air, that’s what you need. We’ll see you in a bit, Lex,” she called upstairs. “I’m taking Jude to the park.”
“Ugh, but the park’s boring, and I wasn’t even in Lexi’s room. I didn’t do anything. I just put my one foot in a tiny bit. Just my toes. The rest of me was in the hallway.”
“He’s trying to be annoying!” bellowed Lexi from upstairs.
“I’m not trying to be annoying. She’s trying to be annoying,” I grumbled as my mom marched me out of the house.
There was a woman at the park, in the shade near the swings, when we got there. She was tall and slender with long dusty-blonde hair that fell to the small of her back in a tangle of loose waves. She was barefoot, her sandals kicked to one side, toes digging into the grass. I didn’t notice him immediately because of how her skirt flared out, but after a second, I realized a boy was hidden behind her. Upon further investigation, I saw a black dog hidden behind the boy.
“Hi,” said my mom. The boy ducked his head farther out of sight, peering out only when it became clear our mothers had struck up a robust conversation that didn’t look like it would taper off anytime soon.
The boy had bushy, overlong hair the same color as his mother’s and wore a midnight-blue cape that hung down to his knees. His eyes were enormous. Light swirls of blue with long eyelashes that curled up and made him look wide-eyed even though, technically, his eyes were narrowed at me. He watched me warily without speaking or making any sudden movements.
“This is Romeo,” said his mom. “He’s shy. It takes him a little while to warm up, but I’m sure he’d love to play.” She turned to my mom. “We moved here a couple of weeks ago. We’ve been so busy unpacking and getting things sorted that we haven’t had time to meet anyone. Some of us have been going a little stir-crazy.”
Our moms started chatting about how lovely it would be when school started and everyone got back into a nice routine. Romeo and I continued eyeing each other uneasily.
“What’s your dog’s name?” I asked when curiosity got the better of me.
Romeo considered me, eyes tracking up and down me for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer, and then whispered, “Buddy.”
“Does Buddy want water?” I’d seen lots of kids with dogs take them down to the water fountain and offer them a drink, and I’d always thought it looked like an important, grown-up thing to do, so I pointed behind me. “There’s a fountain over there.”
Buddy’s head popped out from behind Romeo and his ears pricked at the sound of his name. He started moving as soon as Romeo did. The three of us walked to the spout in silence, Buddy glued to Romeo like a shadow. I turned the faucet on and Romeo cupped his hands together and offered Buddy some water. Buddy wagged his tail, which made me want to be part of it all. I cupped my hands together and offered him water as well, and though he paused, dipping his ears back and sniffing hesitantly before deeming me safe, he drank from my hands too.
Romeo observed silently. I could feel his gaze on my face as Buddy’s tongue lapped at my palms and water ran through my fingers onto my shoes. By the time Buddy’s thirst was quenched, my fate was decided.
I was in.
Romeo dried his hands on his cape and said, “Come on, let’s go.”
He took off toward the thicket of white oak trees near my house. He was fast. So fast I could barely keep up. As he ran, I noticed one corner of his cape was ripped.
