“Yeah,” I mutter, my heart swelling in my chest as I watch her. “Sure is.”
I’m still staring when she sets a foot on the crossbeam. “Ready, partner?”
There’s no chance I’m letting go of this rope, but I grip it even tighter. “Whenever you are.”
With one hand still on the vertical pole, she steps fully onto the cross beam. Her eyes widen a fraction and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I-It shakes.”
“Yep. It’ll do that.”
“Shit,” she hisses. “This is gonna scare the piss outta some little kids.”
A chuckle tumbles out of me. “Looks like it’s scaring the piss out of you too.”
She laughs nervously, and I watch her whole body tense as she balances. “Not gonna lie, Rousseau. I’ve climbed plenty, but this balance beam in outer space is some fresh hell right here.”
If she weren’t wearing that giddy smile, I’d be worried she didn’t like it, but Greta looks elated.
She blows out an exaggerated breath and takes her hand off the vertical pole, balancing on nothing but the cross beam.
“Don’t look down,” I caution.
“Nope.”
She takes one step forward, and even from this distance, I can see her hands shaking, held out by her sides. She takes another step.
“Okay, that’s not so bad. Just seems really far.”
Another step, and she wobbles. “AAAH!”
My heart is in my throat, and the rope is practically cutting into my palms. “You’re safe,” I promise her, even though it feels like I’m balancing on the edge right there with her.
“I know, but it’s just weird to be out in the o-open like this.” Her voice trembles as she speaks. “I’m used to h-having a rock face to cling to.”
“Grip the knot at your middle, right above your clip. It’ll center you.”
I watch as she takes my advice, and her shoulders drop an inch. “Okay, that’s better. Thanks.”
She’s reached the middle of the beam.
“Halfway there,” I coax.
Instead of closing the distance, she stops. “I swear, this log feels like it’s bouncing with my very heartbeat.”
“You look steady from here.”
She inhales slowly and blows out through her mouth in a longShhhsound. But she doesn’t move.
“You okay, Greta?”
Then she does the worst thing she could possibly do. She looks down.
“Fuck.”
“You got this.” But even as I say it, I’m not so sure. “Talk to me, Greta.”
Even from down here, I see her swallow hard. I take a couple of steps to the left so I know I’m in her line of sight.
“Greta? Tell me what’s going on.”
