The platform disappears beneath my feet, my stomach drops somewhere into the trees below, and a scream tears out of me before I can stop it.
The wind rushes past my ears, drowning out everything—my thoughts, my fear, even my own voice.
The only thing constant is Zach’s hand.
“Holy shit—” I gasp, my fingers tightening around his hand.
“I’ve got you,” he calls over the wind.
I force my eyes open, and the ground is so far away it doesn’t even feel real anymore. It’s just a blur of green rushing beneath us. Trees stretch out in every direction, and the sunlight cuts through the canopy in streaks that flash past too fast to focus on.
That’s when I notice the shift.
The fear is still there, but it’s... different.
It’s not suffocating me anymore.
It’s sharp and electric.
The wind hits my face, pulling at my hair, stealing my breath in a way that doesn’t feel like drowning anymore. It feels like flying.
I feel alive.
A laugh bubbles up out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard.
“This is incredible,” I say.
“It is,” Zach replies, and I can hear the grin in his voice without even looking at him.
When I glance over, he’s watching me the same way he did when we were teenagers in his car about to go to some stupid party. He’s looking at me like I’m the view and the only thing that matters.
As the trees start to clear and we reach the end of the line, I unclasp our hands, more confident than ever to hold myself up.
When we get to the bottom, I easily land with both feet.
As the assistant unclips my harness, I look back up to the platform I was just on.
I did that. I actually did it.
Zach’s shoulder brushes against mine as they unclip him.
I don't say anything. He doesn't say anything. We just stand there together for a second, breathing hard, looking back at where we came from.
Then he says, very quietly, “You did it.”
I close my eyes, and despite absolutely everything, I feel my mouth pull into a smile I wasn't planning.
“Yeah,” I say proudly. “I did.”
Sweat drips down my brow as I slow down the treadmill and grip the sides. Dropping my head, I start to count each step to catch my breath.
“End of the week. I promise.”
That’s what I told Coach Masters yesterday when he called, furious that I’m apparently on a cruise. He wasn’t supposed to know. I told him it was a family emergency, but Dax—famously incapable of keeping his mouth shut—announced at a team dinner that I was chasing the love of my life. And now I’m paying for it.
The cruise ends in five days. Five days, and I’ll be in Rometraining as though this never happened. I was hoping I’d leave with her, but I’m not banking on that anymore.
I crank the speed up when I hit eight miles.
