Page 123 of Worth the Fall

Holy shit, I’m doing this.

Holy shit, I’m going to step out of the plane.

We make it to the doorway, and Emerson moves my earplug and says, “Get ready to chase the moment, Malone.” It’s her laugh that rings the loudest. The carefree in it. The freedom. The ease and confidence. “Head up. Wings Out.”

And then she pats my side in a signal we’d practiced when our feet were firmly on the earth to let me know it’s time.

It. Is. Time.

She turns us around so that her feet are on the edge, her hands are beside mine on the opening of the door, and then before I can even blink, she lets go.

Head up. Wings Out.

Oh. Holymotherfuckingshitthisiscrazy!

Despite feeling like we are falling in slow motion, my brain processes everything—the fear, the euphoria, my mortality, the adrenaline—in snapshots of time.

The pressure of the air against my body. The rush of it in my ears. My initial gasp as we begin to fall. The lack of that stomach-in-your-throat sensation I hate, which she promised wouldn’t be there. The feeling of being out of control until we hit our arch. The calming presence of Emerson at my back and her arms helping to guide the positioning of mine. Her confidence overpowers my uncertainty.

It’s then that I find a few moments of utter peace.

Sure, the sound of the wind is roaring in my ears, but all I see is the whole valley laid out in its greens and browns with the ocean’s blue not far beyond. It’s breathtaking and eerie and so serene that I forget that I’m falling over one hundred miles per hour.

Then, before I expect it, we are yanked violently upward as the canopy is deployed. It robs me of my breath momentarily, and I have just enough time to wonder what the hell happened before I’m hit with the sensation of floating.

The sound of Emerson’s laughter is in my ears, and I follow her hand as she points to a few places for me to look at. And I do look, but my body has such a rush of adrenaline and nerves and disbelief that I just jumped out of a fucking airplane it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than this. The moment. The knowledge that I just cheated death.

All I keep thinking as we glide the rest of the way down to the big orange X-marks-the-spot landing zone is: I get it now. Emerson’s addiction to this high. Her need for it. Her use of it to escape her past that haunts her.

Before I know it, she’s shouting instructions in my ear. Pull the guide left to steer us. Right a little more. Feet up so she can take control. Prepare for landing.

The excitement in her whoop is followed by the jolt of her feet as they run beneath us and take the impact of the landing. We are both sitting on our asses, my butt between the V of her thighs as we slide a bit on the ground and the parachute collapses.

Then there is silence around us. My head screams so many goddamn things, but I’m on the ground. Alive. Whole. And Emerson got me here.

She laughs when I try to turn to face her because we’re still harnessed together and then makes quick work of unhooking us. Before I have a chance to process what the hell just happened, I turn around on my knees and kiss the life out of those lips of hers.

I’m riding a high like I’ve never known before. Cheating death. Proving to her I trust her. Facing a fear. Everything. And all I can think about is claiming the goddamn prize of Emerson Reeves because adrenaline definitely has my blood pumping and is intensifying my need to have her.