Page 115 of Catcher's Lock

“Usually, the bigger person is the base and the smaller person flies,” Echo chimes in. “But if you’re strong enough, you can subvert expectations and mix it up. I’ve based Byrd. And there was this husband-and-wife trapeze duo I knew in Tilburg who took turns basing. They won a ton of awards. The wife weighed maybe a hundred and thirty pounds, and she was a fucking beast.”

“See? Are you saying I’m not a beast, Rocket? Let me subvert your expectations.”

“Seeing you succeed isn’t subverting my expectations.” Crossing the stage, Josha peers up at me, before catching my dangling hand to stop my rotation. “It’s proving I was rightabout you all along.”

“You can’t say things like that to me right now,” I murmur, my gaze stuck on his mouth.

“Why not?” His lips twitch, but his eyes are molten. “I mean it exactly the way you want me to.”

“Because you’re too far away for me to kiss you. Now you definitely need to climb up here.”

“Or you could come down.”

“Not yet.” I squeeze his fingers, trying to relay some unformed urgency through touch, entreating him to give it shape. “Aren’t you bored of watching Echo get all up in my shit? Don’t you want a turn?”

“I’d rather take myturnback at the house,” he says, gravel creeping into his voice as he backs away without taking his eyes from mine.

“It takes a lot of trust to be the flyer,” Echo comments. Josha glances over at him, brow furrowing.

“Do you trust me, Rocket?” The question comes out light and teasing, an invitation shaped by a lopsided grin, but as soon as it leaves my mouth, the weight of the word catches in the air.

Trust.

How many times has he said he doesn’t trust me? Even after we started sleeping together, it’s been a lot oftryandwantandfragile. I’m a leap of faith, with a major emphasis on the “leap,” and we both know it.

His trust is a tenuous thread between us—one I’ve been trying to strengthen and he’s been careful not to snap. How do I build that cautious start into a bedrock that no shifting tide can wash away? Tonight has put a lot of strain on it already, and I’m intensely grateful I didn’t let him down.

But what he does next means more to me than him dropping his guard to drink a beer at the bar. More than letting me takea piss on my own or drive us home on my bike. None of those things were small trusts, but something about this one has my blood pounding like surf on rocky shoals.

Maybe because it recalls the more innocent time that first stirred me onto the pole tonight—when I used to perform for just him, taking joy in the limber strength of my youthful body and the way it quickened under the glow of his gaze.

Because my Rocket never cared about technical difficulty or the complexity of my skills. He saw the uncommon in everything I did, and I don’t just want that back—I want to bring him into the magic with me.

Where he belongs.

I hang in the catcher’s lock with outstretched arms, holding my breath.

He puts his hands in mine.

“I’ve got you,” I promise, fervent through a shaky exhale. “I won’t let go.”

“I know.” Without further hesitation, he gives me his weight and straddles up to wrap his legs around my hips. He’s not an aerialist, and his form is clumsy as hell, but no one spends eleven years around a circus without trying a trick or two. His heart thrums against my chest, and he’s crushing my ribs with histhighs, but his mouth is finally close enough to capture, and I feed him my earnest gratitude with every sweep of my tongue.

I will never stop striving to be worthy of this gift.

“Now,” I say, breathless and giddy against his lips. “See if you can get a knee over mine and climb up onto the pole.”

“And what? Stand on your crotch?”

“Or my thigh or my ass. Or you could use the rope and those muscles of yours to hold your weight. You’ve been watching Echo and me do this all night.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. If it doesn’t hurt at least a little, you’re not doing it right.”

“I’m convinced all aerialists are masochists,” Josha mutters.

“You can rough me up anytime, if that’s what you’re asking. Or we could switch, and you could bottom. I meanbase.”