Page 56 of Waiting for You

The table fractured into conversation, everyone leaning in to discuss the itinerary, and I picked up my black coffee and let the noise wash over me.

The platform stood terrifyingly high, higher than the photographs had advertised. The air up in the canopy ran cooler, and the drop below was staggering in every direction. I liked the height. Deep water was the only thing that broke me.

I turned to check on Violet and found her paralyzed. She stood still with her hand pressed flat against her chest, staring out at the distance. Simon hovered beside her with his palm resting on her spine, murmuring in a low, grounding voice.

"Violet," I called, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"

"I'm terrified of the height," she confessed, her voice shaking.

"You've never been scared of heights before."

"Because I've never jumped off a cliff before." Her eyes stayed locked on the drop. "I don't know how the freefall's going to feel."

"Okay," I nodded.

"I'll go first," Xavier volunteered, already stepping toward the waiting attendant. "Just watch me. There's nothing to it. Simple mechanism."

"Okay," Violet breathed. She pulled her chin down and hunched her shoulders, her voice coming out in a small, fragile pitch I almost never heard from her.

"After Xavier goes," I strategized, taking charge, "I'll go next, then Andrew, then Eliza. We'll all wait for you at the landing platform, and Simon brings up the rear. That way you're never alone on either end."

She tore her eyes from the drop to look at me, her trembling chin steadying.

"That's a good plan," she agreed.

Xavier stepped up to the edge. The attendants clipped his harness to the thick steel cable. He stared out at the tree line with his shoulders thrown back, ignoring the safety checks, not adjusting a single strap, just locked onto his destination. He didn't hesitate at the ledge. He just dropped, a clean backward launch, the metal cable shrieking as he picked up speed. He rocketed across the canyon without tucking his knees or tensing, and he landed clean on the opposite platform.

The group cheered.

I stepped up to the ledge. The attendants clipped my harness and rushed through the safety briefing. I nodded along, staring out at the green tree line, reminding myself: you've done this before, you've always loved the rush, and there's nothing out there that's going to hurt you.

Then I jumped.

The wind hit my face as the platform dropped away. I let go of everything I'd been smothering since the corridor: the anxiety, Andrew's question, the heft of the word past. For a few seconds nothing existed but the screaming cable, the speed, the blur of canopy below, the wild yell tearing out of my chest before my brain authorized it. I rushed toward the landing platform, came in too hot, hit the wood hard, and stumbled forward.

Strong hands clamped onto my waist, and I knew whose they were before I looked up.

His hands closed around my hips, and an electric shock ripped through me. I staggered, realizing with terrifying certainty that my racing pulse had nothing to do with the zip-line. I took a step backward. He mirrored me, stepping forward.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Nothing's wrong," I snapped. "You don't have to ask."

"You're red."

"I just flew off a zip-line."

"You're flushed." He studied my face, his dark eyes tracking my panic. "Was the drop too much for you?"

He reached out and touched my bare shoulder. I jerked backward. He took another step forward, closing the distance.

"Xavier, stop," I warned.

"You should sit down."

"I don't need to sit. You need to stay away from me."

He went still, staring at me. His head tilted a fraction, calculating the hostility.