Page 50

Ah! The ladder.

It was hard enough climbing the thing without measuring the height difference to the ground with my eyes, let alone going back down past others climbing up.

“Breathe, Rachelle.”

I turn to see Landon standing on a platform about ten feet from the one I’m on.

“I’m pretty sure that’s never helped anyone in the history of the world,” I say, gritting my teeth. Why is he here again? And why can’t I do one thing without him being in the vicinity? “Are you stalking me now?”

“You can do this.” Instead of irritation, I see his grin as he motions toward the cable. I clench my fists so hard I think I’ve given myself minor cuts from my fingernails.

At this point, I’m stuck. I can’t climb down the ladder, and the idea of heading onto a piece of cable while sailing through the air and at a hundred miles an hour is not sitting well.

What if the pause is because there’s something wrong with the whole contraption?

Boston woman sails to her death on a zip line.

That’s what the newspapers would say. Or one of those online news outlets. Someone would probably even include it in those random compilations of the worst deaths.

“Are you ready?” the man says, staring at me.

I shouldn’t turn, but I do, looking at Landon for a signal that it’s okay for me to quit, to turn around and just call it a day. That’s the knee-jerk reaction from my life before. Disappointment sets in that I’ve resorted to my fallback when I’ve been able to do so much without Landon.

“We’ll go down together,” Landon says, stepping forward so his attendant can connect him to the cable.

Why is he still a safe spot for me? Then again, the old Landon would’ve held me tight and told me I didn’t need to do it. There is something so heartwarming and wonderful about him not babying me right now.

My stomach is a jumbled mess and I take tippy toe steps toward the edge of the platform, doing my best to focus on the horizon instead of what’s below or not below my feet. The line of trees is beautiful and the sun is shining brightly, giving me a sliver of warmth I need.

I’m hooked up to the cable and all I can hear is Landon counting down next to me. He gets to two and my momentum shifts forward too fast, causing me to lose my grip of the platform. And then I’m hurtling through the air.

For several seconds I can’t breathe and my stomach is in my throat.

And then I hear Landon’s war whoop behind me. I can’t help but smile and relax just a smidge. The cables disappear into the middle of some trees and the views are spectacular, minus when I see how close I am to the ground.

“Come on, Rachelle. Let it out. Scream if you need to.”

“I already did that,” I call behind me. I hesitate a moment and then let out another scream, the sound of it scratching the back of my throat. And when I finish, it’s strangely cathartic.

“You’re doing amazing,” Landon says, the biggest grin on his face sending my insides into a twist on the gymnastics vault. “Just a day ago you didn’t want to go down the big slide.”

“This isn’t that much of a difference,” I say, my stomach now bobbing up and down like a seesaw. “But I’m doing it.”

His smile is big and warm, allowing a few seconds of calm in the tidal wave of emotions pushing through me. He’s the one person I’ve always wanted by my side during things like this, but now I’m conflicted.

We keep gliding down the cable, Landon going a tad faster than me. By the time I see the ground and the final platform, I know the end is near.

Guides stand there, helping to slow me down and get my feet on the platform. They take off the belt and harness in under a minute and head off to the next person coming down the line.

“You did it!” Tiffany yells, running up to me. “You did it with no help.”

“That’s just the kind of compliment I need, Tiff. I don’t feel like a kindergartener learning to tie their shoes.”

“You learned to do that in kindergarten? I think it took me until second grade before I got all the bunny ears and loops right.” She grins at me, and I turn toward the cable. I just did that.

A movement to the right causes me to turn. Landon descends his platform and runs up the one I’m standing on.

In one swift move, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me up, spinning us in a small circle. I can smell his deodorant and feel the slight stubble of whiskers on my neck.