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But he manages to awkwardly bend and hold on to the top of the ladder—with one hand. The other is sort of hanging limp at his side, twitching.
No time to worry about that now, though. I may have played the role of Wonder Girl for a bright instant, driven by desperation and fear, but the adrenaline is starting to make me shaky, my energy ebbing.
I steady him as he climbs lower, then I start climbing down, too, to keep him from stepping on my hands or kicking my head. We’ve made it so far, against all odds, better not jinx it.
Slowly, one rung at a time, we go down. I’m acutely, painfully aware of his every movement, my hand always ready to grab at him, keep him on the ladder. He’s slower than me, and I can hear his ragged breathing.
Light-headed, my limbs strangely heavy and uncooperative, I finally step down and find solid earth. I stumble, unprepared, unable to believe I’ve made it down in one piece.
And then Ross staggers down and I catch him by the hips. My grip, however, is not enough to keep him on his feet. His legs buckle and he goes down on his knees, dragging me down with him. I let it happen, throwing my arms around him, holding on to him. He’s shaking so hard I can feel it in my bones. His teeth are chattering.
But he’s alive, he’s here.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper in his ear, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not lying to myself, not pretending one thing or the other.
It’s the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ross
It’s kind of dark. I can’t make sense of anything. Time is made up of jumps and long stretches of nothingness.
I was on the roof drinking?
?then falling, hanging from my fingertips for dear fucking life and that part lasted an eternity.
Now I’m on my knees on hard-packed earth, struggling to draw a single breath, my chest compressed and aching, my right hand and arm burning.
And I have a girl wound around me like a ribbon, her curls tickling my nose, her scent subtle and sweet, yet stronger than any other on the humid night air.
That scent, those curls, the knowledge that this is Luna, my girl, is the only thing finally penetrating the steel fist of panic around my chest, loosening it until I can breathe.
Bringing up my only responsive arm, I wrap it clumsily around her, feeling her back heave with each inhalation. It’s reassuring—that we’re still both breathing.
Bewildering, too. For a moment there I’d really thought that was it. The end. I’d accepted it, too. Was ready to release my hold and just fall.
She’s muttering something and I can’t make it out, but that’s okay. the sound of her voice is calming, grounding. After a while I realize she’s rocking me a little, rocking us, back and forth.
And that she’s whispering my name.
It should mean something, all this. Surviving, her being there, her arms around me, it should and could mean so much, but for a long while I’m too drained and spent to think or feel anything. Too numb to comprehend, or do anything else but hold on to her.
As the shock slowly starts to wear off, I become aware of more stinging, burning aches, old and new. They remind me that before I fell off a roof, I was caught up in a street fight and I’m bruised all over. I’m also woozy, my brain filled with cotton balls, and I remember the amount of booze I’ve consumed since last night. You could probably light me up with a single match.
That seems kinda funny, and I shake with silent laughter, then grunt when that jostles my burning ribs.
“Where’s Buddy?” Luna asks softly, and I blink, stilling.
“Buddy?” I have the feeling I am missing something—okay, scratch that, missing whole episodes in the series that is my fucking life. “Why?”
“He led me to the ladder. I thought you weren’t here, at the garage. He’s the reason I found you.”
Okay, so my brain is still not one hundred percent caught up with today. “You were looking for me?”
“Of course I was. You weren’t at the house. I was worried.”
“Why?”
