Page 3 of Penance (Rising From the Ashes #2)

But I don’t listen—not to reason and definitely not to him. It’s the use of that stupid nickname that spurs me on, causing me to readjust my arms and slowly lower my other leg until I’m dangling from the limb with only the strength in my arms to keep me from falling.

There’s a gasp from the crowd, but I block it out, concentrating so I don’t screw this up.

“Dang it, hopeless,” Theo growls, and then I hear him moving up the ladder quicker than before. He’s closing in, but my foot is inches from the bucket. I just need to reach a little further.

I point my toe, hoping it will give me the extra length I need.

It does, but only because the limb has gotten tired of holding all my weight.

With a sharp crack, I’m falling. My foot meets air instead of the safety of the bucket.

There’s no time for me to scream, but even if there had been, I wouldn’t have been able to anyway.

Air lodges in my throat as I start to fall.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the ground rushing to meet me.

This is going to hurt .

But the pain never comes, at least not the kind I’m expecting.

A strong hand wraps around my wrist, grabbing me at the last second.

My shoulder aches from the force of my fall being stopped, but it’s minimal compared to what it could have been.

Stiff fingers hold on to my wrist, digging into the tender flesh to keep me from falling, and ever so slowly, I lift my gaze to meet that of the man above me.

There is fire in Theo’s eyes—not the real kind, obviously, but the kind that says I’m in a lot of trouble when we get down from here. And it causes my traitorous heart to kick into overdrive—as if it weren’t already beating hard enough from the fall.

“Give me your other hand,” Theo yells, and for once, I do as I’m asked.

It’s time to face the music. I can’t save myself in this situation.

With all the strength I have left, I reach up my other arm, and thankfully, it’s enough.

Theo grabs my wrist and pulls me up. The muscles in his neck strain with the effort, and I watch in fascination as they ripple with each tug.

Inch by inch, I’m pulled back up until my shoulders are even with the bucket.

“I’m going to let go of one arm,” Theo warns. “Grab onto the bucket when I do.”

He doesn’t give me time to argue before he drops my arm, leaving obedience as my only option.

Grinding my teeth, I do as he asks. Once the edge of the bucket is securely tucked into my armpit, Theo leans forward, grabbing onto the loop on the back of my pants and pulling me the rest of the way up.

Humiliation burns hotter than the fire, warming my whole body. If I were to look in a mirror, I’m positive I would look like a cherry tomato. That’s the problem with having such a pale complexion. Hiding my feelings is never an option when my skin wears them so well.

With one final tug, I tumble into the bucket, looking like a newborn horse and taking Theo with me.

There’s nothing forgiving about the way I crash into him.

He hits the floor with a grunt, taking the brunt of the fall.

Air whooshes out of my lungs, every inch of him hard as steel.

The bucket is small, leaving little room to move.

Half my body is draped across his as I lie there gasping, trying to catch my breath.

His hands are on my waist, and the heat sears into me, making me dizzy.

Theo’s breathing is even—like he didn’t just pull up a hundred and forty-pound woman from near death—but mine is harsh in my ears, although I did relatively nothing.

Life really is unfair sometimes.

“What were you thinking?” Theo growls, dragging me out of my dazed stupor. His mouth is next to the shell of my ear, and I fight the urge not to shiver as his words wash over me. “You could have gotten yourself killed. Don’t ever do something that stupid again.”

The words are a mocking reminder and a blaring red flag warning that I’m tangled up with a man who calls me hopeless.

My breath hasn’t fully returned to my lungs yet, but I can’t take another second of being close to Theo because, otherwise, I might make another stupid decision.

And I’ve made enough for one night. So I jerk back, clamoring to put some space between us, but the side wall of the bucket is closer than I thought.

The back of my head slams against it, and a solid curse slips past my lips.

Theo’s teeth grind together. He sits up, reaching for me, and I don’t move because there’s nowhere to go.

“What are you doing?” I ask as Theo’s hands tangle into my hair.

“Checking to see if you gave yourself a concussion in your race to get away from me.” His eyes stay on my face, his fingers gently probing at my scalp, and I keep my eyes everywhere but on him.

I try to hold still when he hits the tender spot I just hit, but my lips tighten.

And Theo is paying close enough attention that he doesn’t miss it .

He sighs, sitting back and pulling his hand from my hair. “What am I going to do with you, hopeless?”

The question makes me bristle. “Nothing. You’re not going to do anything with me. Can we go down now?”

My words are stiff—ungrateful really—considering the man saved my life, but just like with all our other interactions, Theo doesn’t let it get to him. A dimple pokes into his cheek, and I don’t have to look at his lips to know he’s smirking.

“Sure. Let’s go down,” he says, standing up and lifting me with him. He leans forward, the scratch of his five o’clock shadow brushing against my cheek until he’s close enough to whisper in my ear. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Somehow, that scares me more. Maybe later I’ll chalk it up as the adrenaline wearing off, but that fear hits me like a ton of bricks.