by Lili Valente
I slide in beside him and fire up the Forrester. “So, I’ve been thinking, like I said I would.” My voice is breathy, and my heart pounds fast again as I guide the car back toward the access road and the terror waiting on the other side of the highway. “But I don’t want to talk about us until we’ve done this thing that we’re about to do. I think it will show you where I’m coming from more than words alone ever could.”
“As long as you’re not going to throw me into a pit of cockroaches,” he says calmly. “Or clowns.”
I smile. “Chloe told you about our chat?”
“She wanted to make sure she’d given you the right answers.”
“Did she?” I take the first left on the other side of the highway and then a quick right, heading for the Crooked Creek Bridge.
“Mostly. I’m not afraid of any of those things, but I keep food in airtight containers and have a standing appointment with a pest control company for a reason. So far, I’ve kept my life relatively cockroach free, and I would like to keep it that way.”
“And clowns?” I squeeze the steering wheel tighter, following the signs to the parking lot and check-in area.
“I’m with Chloe. If one sneaks up behind me, I’m going to punch that creepy red-nosed fucker first and ask questions later.”
On a normal afternoon, that would make me laugh. But nothing is funny right now.
Because we’re here.
And our reservation is in fifteen minutes.
I may only have fifteen minutes left to live, and suddenly I’m so scared my lips have forgotten how to form words, and my tongue is lying on the floor of my mouth like bloated, panic-swollen roadkill.
I cut the engine and sit there, breath coming fast as I convulsively flex and release my hands, trying to convince my fingers to let go of the steering wheel.
Finally, Brendan asks, “Are we here?”
I hum a soft mmm-hmmm and swallow hard, fighting to keep from hyperventilating as I add, “You can take the blindfold off.”
Brendan pushes the stretch pants up and off his head, blinking in the bright afternoon light as his eyes adjust. When he sees the sign above the little yellow cottage near the edge of the gorge, he smiles. “Bungee jumping?”
“The highest bungee jump in North America. A two-hundred-and-fifty-foot drop into the Crooked Creek Gorge,” I mumble as my mouth starts to go numb and my palms break into terror-sweat, making my hands slippery on the steering wheel. “That’s why I asked Chloe if you were afraid of heights.”
He turns to me with a confused look. “No, I’m not, but aren’t you—”
“Terrified,” I supply, nodding briskly as a hysterical laugh rises in my throat. “Absolutely terrified. I can’t promise that I won’t throw up or pee my pants or scream loud enough to burst your eardrums. Or maybe all three at the same time. And I guess I could potentially have a heart attack. I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but my heart is slamming pretty hard right now, and I’m still safe in the car, so…”
He reaches over, pressing two fingers to my neck, where my pulse is bouncing beneath my skin like a six-year-old pumped up on sugar and let loose in a room full of trampolines. “Jesus, you’re not kidding.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not kidding. I’m fine with heights as long as there are guardrails or something, but the thought of standing at the edge of a drop-off and…leaning over…” My eyes slide closed as my throat works convulsively, trying to swallow past the panic swelling ever larger inside of me.
“Swap places with me,” Brendan says sternly. “Slide over into the passenger’s seat. I’ll drive us back to the bar.”
My eyes fly open. “No, I have to do this! I can’t back out now. I already put down the deposit and—”
“Fuck the deposit. I’ll cover it. You’re completely white, Freckles. You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Or I am a ghost,” I try to joke, but I still sound terrified.
“Scoot over. Before you pass out.” He reaches for his door.
“No!” I cry, making Brendan spin back to me with arched brows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I just… I don’t want to give up. This is a symbolic journey, Brendan. If I fail at this, who’s to say I won’t fail at the other stuff? The stuff that actually matters?”
“Laura, that’s silly. You don’t—”
“It’s a symbolic journey,” I repeat. “A vision quest, and if I don’t go through with it, I won’t get my vision quest name. And you won’t get yours, either.” I trap my top lip with my bottom teeth and beg him with stress-tightened eyes to help me do this.
To help us do this.
His breath rushes out as he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I understand, but if it’s that important to you…”
“It is,” I say, willing my pulse to slow a few beats per second. “I need to prove to myself that I can do this. That I can overcome my fears and change and…jump when it’s time to jump.”
“All right.” His gaze softens in a way that makes me think he understands more than he’s letting on. “Then we should probably start by getting out of the car.”
“Yes.” I nod and keep nodding for way too long while my hands remain stubbornly glued to the sweat-slick steering wheel. “But you’re going to have to help me. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. That’s what I’m here for.” He reaches over, resting his hand on top of my white-knuckled one. “That’s one of the good parts of being a couple, you know. You don’t have to do all the scary stuff on your own.”
I nod again, but I don’t speak. My lips are pressed into a thin line, and I’m pretty sure if I set them free they’ll do something stupid like beg Brendan to get us out of here as fast as my Forrester’s winter tires will carry us.
With a final hand squeeze, he reaches for the door, and I brace myself for change. Big, hairy, scary change…
Chapter Twenty-Five
Laura
What seems like mere nanoseconds later, Brendan is opening my door and reaching inside to peel my fingers slowly off the wheel, one by one. When he’s finished, I thread my hands into a single fist that I press to my chest, the better to keep my heart from punching a hole through my ribs.
“We stand on three.” His tone is firm and even, inviting no discussion. “One, two, three.”
With his arm around my shoulders, I stagger out of the car, gulping large mouthfuls of cold winter air. It can’t be more than thirty degrees, but my heavy sweater is too hot, I’m sweating like I just finished a 5k, and my cheeks feel simultaneously flushed and bloodless.
I find my feet and steady myself, but the world is moving a lot more than it usually does, the horizon line swooping up and down in my peripheral vision as Brendan tucks me firmly under his arm.
“Now we walk,” he says. “One foot in front of the other until we reach the sign-in desk.”
My chin bobs. “Okay.” But it’s not okay, and after only a few steps I can’t feel my feet. It’s like frostbite but from the inside, as my bone marrow crystalizes and my muscles atrophy with fear.
“I had a dream about you last night,” Brendan says, distracting me from my rapidly numbing extremities. “You were wearing a white dress and floating in this dark green lagoon, your hair waving in the water around you like seaweed. And you were so beautiful, like one of the paintings Chloe loves, but your eyes were closed and… Well, I knew you weren’t just sleeping.”
I glance up at him, frowning hard. “That’s a sad dream.”
He nods. “I’ve been having a lot of dreams like that lately. I think it’s my subconscious testing me, seeing if I’ve really got what it takes to move on.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, offering what support I can, considering I would dissolve into a puddle of terror if he stopped propping me up. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s good.” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s not good, but it’s part of it.”
“Part of what?” I ask, ignoring the voice
in my head screaming that we’re getting way too close to that little yellow cottage.
“Of getting better. Of growing instead of being stuck. I was stuck long enough.” He holds my gaze with an intensity that banishes everything but him. “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m sick of being so afraid of losing the people I love that I can’t love them the way they deserve to be loved in the first place.”
My eyes sting, and the bridge of my nose grows suspiciously achy. “This might sound silly, but I’m proud of you.”
“And I’m proud of you.” He hugs me closer. “But you know you don’t have to jump off of a bridge to prove anything to me, right?”
“It’s an illogical fear.” I stand up straighter, forcing my legs to support more of my own weight. “There’s only a one in five hundred thousand chance of dying in a bungee jumping accident. It’s one in six hundred every time you get into a car, and I still drive every day. It’s ridiculous to be melting down like this. I need to stop being afraid of things I have no reason to be afraid of.”
His gaze shifts to the gravel in front of us, making his expression hard to read. “I agree. But there’s a difference between irrational fears and rational concerns.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I messed up,” he cuts in, stopping several feet away from the line of people waiting to check-in for the New Year’s group jump. “I shouldn’t have left you and Chloe alone like that. It was a mistake, one I’m not planning to repeat. I even drew up something we can sign if you want. A contract, sort of.” He reaches into his back pocket, tugging out his wallet and slipping free a folded piece of paper that he holds out toward me. “It’s only two pages, but it took me a few hours to get it right. I wanted to be sure everything was covered.”
I take the paper and unfold it, smiling as I read the heading at the top of the document: I’ll Be the Bad Guy: All the Ways I Promise Not to Suck Ass As Your Single-Parent Boyfriend. I skim the bullet points, which cover everything from disciplining Chloe to helping with homework to folding small-person laundry and putting away toys.
“Oh, I don’t mind folding laundry,” I say, eyes mistier than they were a moment ago. “I actually kind of like it. Her clothes are so tiny and cute, and she has the coolest socks. It makes it kind of fun to match them up, you know?”
“I just want you to know I’m not looking for a housekeeper,” he says, tipping his head closer to mine. “Or a babysitter. Or someone to help discipline or entertain my kid. That’s not why I asked you what I asked you on Christmas Eve.”
“I know that.” I refold the letter, hands trembling. “And Chloe isn’t why I ran away.”
He shakes his head, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“I ran because I already love you so much,” I say, swallowing hard. “Both of you. And in the past, the thought of just one person who was that important to me was enough to give me a bad case of commitment-phobia. But now there are two of you. Two people who are capable of ripping my heart out if they get tired of me, or change their mind about being a family, or get hurt or killed or sick or just deeply unhappy in a way I can’t make better.”
He cups my face in his hands. “I’m never going to get tired of you, Freckles. That’s not the way my heart works.”
Tears fill my eyes. “You can’t promise that. I could become a serial killer. Or a kitten strangler. Or a vegetarian.”
He smiles. “My uncle is a vegetarian, and I’ve managed to love him, deeply, my entire life. The kitten strangling could be a deal breaker, but if you’re one of those serial killers who only goes after the bad guys, we could make it work.”
My breath huffs out. “I would laugh if I wasn’t so scared.”
“Scared of the bungee jumping or…”
I loop my arms around his neck, moving in until my body presses against his and that sexy, sizzling, warm, familiar, home feeling rushes through me, the way it does every time I’m close to this man. “Both. I’m scared shitless of both, Brendan. But assuming the fetal position and hoping change goes away isn’t a tenable life plan, and it’s no way to act when you love someone.” I take a deep breath. “And like you said, I don’t want to be stuck anymore. I want to grow and get better, and I want to do it with you and Chloe. I think we should move in together and love each other and see if we can make this work.”
The tension melts from his shoulders as he pulls me close and hugs me tight, tucking his face into the curve of my neck as he whispers, “We can make it work, baby. I know we can.”
I cling to him, tears slipping down my cheeks as my eyes squeeze shut. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” His hands smooth down to my hips, squeezing me through my thick pants. “Now let’s get out of here. I need to take you home and get you naked. I’ve missed your body so fucking much.”
“Yes,” I say, blood pumping faster. “But first we jump.”
He pulls back, gazing down at me like he’s pretty sure I’m crazy.
And I probably am. But luckily, he seems to love me anyway.
“All right,” he says, shaking his head. “But if you pass out between here and the sign-in desk, there’s no way they’re going to let you up on the bridge. You faint, and it’s over. I’m carrying you back to the car, and we’re going home.”
I nod. “But I’m not going to faint. I’m feeling brave all of a sudden. Let’s go earn our vision quest names before I lose my nerve.”
Brendan smiles as he tucks me under his arm again. “What’s your name going to be? Pees When She Screams?”
“If you’re lucky. It might be Pukes While She Screams. Considering you’re going to be jumping right next to me, Daniels, that could get really gross for you really fast.”
He shudders and hugs me closer. “I must really love you.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “You really must. Because I’m not kidding. This could get messy.”
“I know,” he says softly. “But I’m not afraid of making messes. Or helping to clean them up. As long as you’re there with me.”
It’s such a romantic, wonderful thing to say I can’t resist the urge to turn to him, stealing a kiss that becomes two kisses, and then three, because once we start, neither of us wants to stop. We make out covertly—short, sweet kisses and longer, deeper ones that probably qualify as PDA violations—as we shuffle from the back of the line to the front.
At the counter, I manage to give my name and confirmation info to the bright-eyed, man-bunned dude in an only slightly breathy voice. Fifteen minutes later, we’re strapped into thick harnesses that seem to be taking safety seriously and climbing onto the backs of two heavily modified pickup trucks with matching platforms that extend over the edge of the bridge.
There are twelve jumpers total, and we’ll be flying over the edge in groups of two. But thanks to the twenty Brendan slipped our jump operators on the way across the bridge—having correctly deduced that the chances of me passing out would increase with every couple we had to watch plummet before it was our turn—we’re going first.
“Keep your eyes on me until the last second,” Brendan says, voice raised to be heard over the wind whipping through the gorge.
My head bobs up and down as I inch toward the edge, knees slightly bent and arms held out to my sides like I’m balancing on a wire instead of plodding slowly down a platform at least seven feet across.
My handler chuckles beside me and says in a friendly baritone, “You’re going to be fine. It’s wicked fun. You’ll be back here next weekend, begging to go again.”
I hum doubtfully but can’t speak. My throat is too tight, and my ribs have decided not to expand for more than a shallow wheeze. My heart is slam-dancing in my chest, and the squeaky fear-voice in my brain is screeching “Run away! Run away!” The only thing keeping me from dropping to my knees and begging someone to help me back to the car is Brendan’s steady blue gaze.
He doesn’t say another word, bu
t in his eyes I see everything I need.
His eyes say—
You can do this.
But if you can’t it’s okay.
Whatever you choose, I’m here with you.
Because I believe in you.
And I love you.
And you’re not alone.
And for the first time in my life, change isn’t as scary as the thought of not being with this person. This strong, sweet, brave, incredible person who I love with my entire heart, and who loves me just the way I am.
“Love you,” I mouth as we reach the edge and our feet are wrapped up for the final plunge.
“Love you, too,” Brendan mouths back with a grin and a nod toward the great unknown.
My heart does a swan dive in my chest, making it feel like part of me is already falling as I nod back.
Falling…
Falling…
And then, with our eyes still locked, Brendan and I bend our knees, brace ourselves, and…
Fly.
Epilogue
Brendan
The following summer…
“Hurry!” Chloe pinwheels her arm, eyes wide and impatient. “We’re going to miss the sunset if we don’t hurry!”
“You run ahead and find us a spot,” I say. “Just stay back from the edge until Laura and I get there.”
“And make sure you pull your kite in and hold on tight before you climb up,” Laura adds. “The wind is stronger up there.”
“Got it!” Chloe gives Laura a thumbs-up before dashing down the beach, pulling her mermaid kite behind her, her braids bouncing as her bare feet smack the damp sand.
Beside me, my other favorite redhead is looking ridiculously sexy in a green swimsuit cover-up that barely conceals her ass, granting me peekaboo glimpses of the black bikini underneath as the wind whips along the coast. I’m already counting the hours until it’s time to tuck Chloe in with the rest of the kids spending the night at the beach home Justin rented for his birthday. Then we can retreat to our private room where I will demonstrate my continued commitment to making Laura come again and again until she’s so exhausted I’ll have to carry her to the shower to clean up before bed.
