Page 101 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

“I got it.”

“You’re doing great. Almost here.”

She smiles slightly and nods. Then she lifts her foot to step over the plank and—

“Owl!” Holly yells.

Cristina jolts and the bridge sways violently. Her foot slips and she drops, her arm plunging through a gap in the planks as she tries to catch herself.

“Cristina!” I shout, every bone in my body trying to leap off the platform.

“I can’t—Rhett—I can’t—”

Her voice cracks. She’s crouched on the bridge, one arm trapped in the gap, the other clutching the wire.

And something inside me splinters with it.

My chest locks down. My vision tunnels, and I tell myself to breathe. It’s going to be okay. She’s going to get up and walk.

I count to four as I inhale and slowly exhale. My focus sharpens. “We’re gonna take this nice and slow, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice is so shaky it hurts to hear it.

“You’re going to stand. Both of your feet are on a plank. You can feel that, right?”

“I . . . I think so.”

In my whole life, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to help someone as much as I need to in this moment. “Do you trust me, Cristina?”

She nods, and a small wave of relief flows over me.

“Then do as I say and I’m gonna get you across. Scout’s honor.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Hell, no.”

She laughs—a real, cleansing sound—and I know she’s with me.

“Come on, you can do it. Two planks right where your feet are. Get them under you and I’ll get you past the holes.”

Cristina slowly moves her feet so they’re underneath her and she rises, clutching the wire handhold the whole time.

“Now, take one step forward, then you’ve got a hole.”

I guide her over the hole and onto the single wooden plank that rests between the two missing ones.

“You’re doing great.”

Soon as the words leave my mouth, the air rustles, bringing with it not a gust of wind, but an electrical charge, like all of Mystic Meadows is cheering us on.

“You feel that?”

Cristina nods.

“That’s this land telling you it’s got your back, too.”

She huffs a little laugh.