Page 1 of You Fall First

Chapter One

Jo

If you asked me for a list of five things you should know about Josephine Michaels before we begin, I’d probably share these:

I think five is a boring number for lists.

I’ve got two dimples that my sister, Landry, calls “cheek butts.” I tell her that she’s just jealous, but I don’t think she is.

I’ve earned a bachelor’s degree in education and a master’s in social work, but I am not a teacher or a social worker. Oops.

Besides my brother and my dad, no man has ever truly loved me. (Sighing about this is okay. I sigh all the time; just don’t count that as one of my things.)

I’m the youngest sibling in the Michaels family, but I wasn’t always.

I don’t like the nickname Jojo anymore. Jo is just fine, thanks.

I hope my adding a sixth thing isn’t too disappointing, mostly because “people pleaser” is kind of my default setting. That’s why I studied education at Carolina University in the first place. I was following in the illustrious footsteps of my older brother, Dex. He’s the athletic director at Stony Peak High, right here in Harvest Hollow. Our town is an hour outside of Asheville, in case you’re not familiar. And on my first day of college, Dex said all I had to do was earn my teaching certificate, and he’d do whatever it took to get me a job with his district, Mountain View Unified.

The superintendent loves Dex.

I love Dex.

Everybody loves Dex.

My parents were predictably elated by the potential of my brother securing me a job, and I’m sure he assumed I was happy about the offer, too. In theory, I should’ve been happy.

Unfortunately, my brother’s voice was more like the groan of a sad trombone in my head. You see, I’d already spent decades paddling in the substantial wake of my extraordinary siblings, and the last thing I needed was to ride Dex’s coattails further into adulthood.

From kindergarten through senior year, here’s what I heard on every first day of school:

“Wow! You’re a carbon copy of Landry! A lot shorter, though, huh?”

“Are you as funny as Dexter? Man, that kid was hilarious!”

“Remind me. What year was your Kendal our valedictorian? She’s still the smartest student I’ve ever had!”

To the best of my memory, these are actual conversations I had with real-life teachers who meant well. Still, I spent the rest of every school year wondering what those same teachers would say about me if I had a younger sibling following in my footsteps:

Boy, oh boy, that Jojo sure had memorable cheek butts, didn’t she?

Miracle of miracles, my freshman roommate at CU didn’t already adore any of my siblings more than she adored me. Maren Woods had never even heard of the Michaels family. Ten years later, that magical pixie is still my best friend, which is a total coincidence, probably.

Either way, by graduation, I was so desperate to get off the comparison train, I jumped tracks from teaching to social work. No one I’m related to had ever done anything related to that field, and working with struggling families seemed like the perfect fit. After all, we Michaels had navigated our own set of challenges and loss.

I liked the idea of being there for others on their journeys.

As it turns out, master’s degrees aren’t free, so I moved back in with my parents to save what little remained in my bank account. Last semester, I finally earned that degree. I’d also earned myself a genuine boyfriend for the first time in my life. Oliver and I met on Swipe Rite, the dating app. I thought I was in love.

He was not.

I learned this unfortunate fact after I’d already found a position as a staff therapist at a private group practice in Asheville. Oliver was moving there for his new career, and I was thrilled to follow him. I’d even found an apartment near his, which I assumed would thrill him as well.

Not so much.

There’s a special kind of failure in quitting a job you’ve yet to begin and breaking a lease on a place you never moved into. At that point, the thought of social work completely lost its appeal. I figured my own radar was so broken; how could I possibly help anyone else? As of today, I’m down to my last bit of savings and still living in my childhood home. I want to move out, desperately.

But I need a paycheck first.