Page 81 of Worth the Fall

EMERSON

Staring at the box cutter in my hand, I ignore the contents of the open box in front of me. Its weight is as comforting as it is torturous.

My sleep-deprived mind drifts off and begs me to give into a need I haven’t had in years.

Cut.

Feel the pain my mind has closed out.

Cut.

Take the blame I don’t deserve.

The blade calls to me.

My skin begs to be scored.

To bleed out the guilt.

Cut.

My fingers itch to do it.

“You have a visitor, Em,” Leo calls from the front of the office, making me drop the knife from trembling fingers. A quick glance at the clock tells me I’ve been standing here in La-la Land for way longer than I should have been.

“Okay,” I say, but before the word is even out, Grant is standing in the doorway, looking like my own personal Heaven and Hell—a reprieve from the thoughts that have stolen my focus all day and the reason I think I had those thoughts. His smile is genuine, and I hate that every part of me craves to walk straight up to him and wrap my arms around him.

Comfort.

Distraction.

The need to feel anything other than what I’m feeling right now.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I infuse confidence into my voice when really I’m scared shitless over these emotions I’m not used to having.

“I’m early.” He shrugs, his smile turning sheepish. “Can you blame me?”

My brow pinches, and I stare at him for a moment before what he’s talking about dawns on me. The time and place I set. The offer he made that has, unbeknownst to him, been overshadowed by my issues he has no clue about.

“No. Um, no.” It’s his turn to study me, his eyes looking closer than I want him to. “I, uh, I have to bring a team up first. You’re going with us,” I ad-hoc. Dodge and weave.

“Like hell I am.” He laughs and takes a few steps closer.

“Yeah, I think you need to cash in that voucher. I’m not tandem jumping with anyone, so I can strap you on.” The words are out before I realize what they sound like, and the full-bodied laugh that falls from his mouth and echoes around the room is worth every ounce of blush that creeps into my cheeks.

“Thanks, Em, but strap-ons aren’t my thing, and if they were, it wouldn’t be you wearing one.”

“I hear pegging is all the rage these days.”

The look he gives me says he’s having none of this conversation. “It’ll be a cold day in hell, my dear.”

Oddly enough, all it takes is talking to Grant about strap-ons to put me at ease for the first time all day. My smile feels real instead of forced and brittle. The ache in my shoulders eases some. The box cutter becomes less enticing. The weight of the unremembered dream fades.

“If that’s your biggest fear, then jumping out of a plane should be a piece of cake.”

“I didn’t say it was my biggest fear—jumping out of a plane is. Heights and I don’t get along.”