Page 116 of Chalk Outline

Sometimes, I feel like he isn’t real, as if I conjured him solely to feel connected to someone. Nothing scares me more than realizing he was a game all along.

He should have been here by now.

I gaze up at the stars, reciting grandma’s words.When you’re lost, find your north star…I lower my head to look at Jason’s tower just as the lights bounce off the walls.

My north star…

The door to his balcony opens, and I hone in on his boots first before my eyes travel along his muscular thighs and bare chest, stopping where his gaze meets mine.

He brings the radio up to his mask, hesitating for a moment but confident the next. “Come here and take it off.”

I look at him in confusion, holding the radio to my lips. “What do you mean?” I let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Come here and remove my mask.”

He was supposed to be here helping me, but now he wants me to go to him.

“Why now?”

“Because what you’re looking for is right here. Because I miss my wife.” He reaches the railings. “And I’m looking at her.”

Goosebumps creep over my skin, but I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched right in the gut. My mind reels, confusion rushing to the forefront.

My eyes fill with unexplainable tears.

“Is this a game to you?”

“No,” he lowers his voice. Worry settles deep in his throat.

The pressure around my head intensifies.

“You know what you need to do,” he says nervously, looking at the zipline. His voice is filled with emotion. “You’re free now.”

My body is frozen in place.

I knew it all along, but I tried to make sense of it.

The only explanation is that my grandma was behind it. She faked his death and sent him away because she disapproved of him.

How could she?

“Winona…” His voice cuts like the sharpest knife.

“I’m coming to kill you,” I force past gritted teeth, and he chuckles affectionately.

“Fair enough.”

I rush to grab the gear from the closet inside.

I’m nervous. My hands shake, and my heart races. I fumble with the cables and harness, needing a few deep breaths to calm down.

Fidgeting from foot to foot, I clear my throat and concentrate on securing it properly.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I don’t know if I’m excited or terrified.

I push the coffee table toward the railing and climb on top. Please be real. I attach the harness to the carabiner that clips onto the trolley, clip the radio to my pants, and juggle my backpack on my shoulders.