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The trees part and deposit us in a small clearing. Not a wide-open field or anything, but a small niche about the size of the Gonzalez trailer. The grassy spot slopes down and then…yikes.
But the view!
“Oh, my.” Thumping Marco’s back, I order him to let me down.
He bends at the knees and I wiggle my way to the ground, his hand out until I’m steady. “Be careful. There’s a drop-off.”
I walk toward the end of the terrain because the view is awesome. I breathe deeply and let its beauty imprint permanently on my gray matter.
“Annalise!”
“What?” I glance over mid-step.
“Annalise,stop.”
“No. I want to see.”
“You can see from here.”
Hereis barely beyond the parted trees, a good fifteen feet from the edge—but I want the panorama in 3-D. Up, down, and all around.
“Don’t, Annalise.”
His voice is a little closer. I take two more steps and the entirety of the landscape comes into view. There’s a mountain range to the right, desert to the left, and a sweeping valley floor straight down. A valley complete with a river running through it, a river not visible to hanger-backers.
“Come here. You gotta see this.” I motion behind me, edging a smidge—
And then I’m stumbling backwards, the bulky sweatshirt a cinch around my middle. “Hey!”
“What the heck, Annalise. That’s a cliff!” Marco has a wad of shirt in one hand, while his other arm encircles my middle, his breath in my ear.
Is he serious?
Now several feet from theend of the world, I wriggle out of his arms, not an easy task because those tatted up arms are solid ropes of muscle. “I’m being careful.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
He’s still holding on loosely, so I slap at his arm and break all the way free. “Well, I am. I know what I’m doing, and besides, there’s another ledge below this one. It would catch me if I fell.” I smirk up, pleased to have my earlier suspicion confirmed.
“There is? How far down?”
“IDK. Ten feet.”
His eyebrows swoop into a harshv.“Ten feet? Oh, that wouldn’t hurt at all. I suppose you’d just scamper right back up?”
“Ten feet is nothing. A rescue would be manageable.”
“A rescue would be manageable,” he mutters, bobbling his head as he mimics me. But he’s the one who’s funny.
“Wait…you’ve been here before, right?”
He jerks a nod. “Several times.”
“And yet you didn’t know the ledge was down there. Hmm.”
Hands to waist, he glares.
Yep, white knuckles never lie. The man is scared to ever-loving death of heights…So, naturally, I back up one tiny step. Eyeing him, I take another…
