by Marnee Blake
Picturing herself somersaulting in the air made her grin.
After the safety waivers were taken care of, an instructor went over the best way to jump.
A swallow dive.
They expected her to throw herself off the edge of the bridge, her arms outstretched and her feet together like some Olympic diver.
Even as she acknowledged how bizarre that was, the joy bubbled inside her. She laughed with it, the exhilaration of what she was about to do pumping through her. It had been a long time since she’d done something out of the ordinary, reckless even.
“When you finish deceleration, the boat at the bottom will retrieve you.” The instructor finished checking all of her gear once more. “So we don’t have to pull you all the way back up.”
“Does seem counterproductive, after I go to all the trouble to get down there.”
He laughed. “Right. You’re good to go.” Stepping back, he motioned toward the ledge, ten meters or so away.
She stared at it and the open air in front of her.
Hunter’s hand on her sleeve stopped her. “You don’t have to do this.”
Scanning his face, she figured out exactly what mixed with the determination in his eyes: stark terror.
“You’ve done this before, right?” She kept her voice calm, steady. There might be a heady mix of excitement and fear coursing through her, but it was life affirming. Whatever was happening with Hunter, though, wasn’t giving him that same high, and she wanted it to. She wanted to share the glorious headiness of this experience. So she held his gaze and focused on him. “I bet you’ve done this hundreds of times.”
“Not hundreds,” he admitted. “But dozens, yeah.” He ducked his head and shrugged, and the entire gesture tugged at her heart. He might have done this before, but she would bet that his present anxiety was a new element to the jumping—and right now, she’d do whatever it took to make him feel better.
Even pretend she was totally cool with jumping off a bridge.
“So this is no sweat for you.” She made the declaration as if it were factual, even though this jump didn’t seem easy for him. “And if you can do it, so can I.”
“I haven’t…” He shook his head. “Not since the…fall. I haven’t.”
Charlie stilled. Why hadn’t this occurred to her before? His accident had been caused by a twisted parachute and his inability to get his spare to open. She couldn’t imagine what those moments had felt like, free-falling, helpless because his gear had failed. No wonder he wasn’t too eager to jump now.
Studying his face, she could still see it, though, in the steely set of his jaw: determination. He had come here to do this jump, to tough through it.
She lowered her voice so the instructor wouldn’t overhear her. “That’s why you came today. So you could get over that.”
He nodded curtly, swallowing hard.
That made sense. But if he was hell-bent on doing the jump, why was he suddenly trying to convince her not to?
As his fingers tightened further on her arm, the pieces came together. “You’re afraid for me.”
There was no other option. He was worried about her.
They barely knew each other. Nothing in the times they’d hung out gave her any indication that he liked her at all. Yet here he was, worrying. That it came from his own fears since his accident tugged at her heart in a way that was dangerous.
She smiled at him, squeezing his arm again before stepping away. No way was she backing out now. “You’ll have to come down, then. Make sure I’m okay.”
Without another word, she joined the instructor, who went through one more safety check before giving her a thumbs-up.
She glanced at Hunter once more, finding his gaze inscrutable. She blew him a kiss.
And then she jumped.
Chapter Six
He didn’t breathe correctly until she was in the boat.
Hunter paced along the platform, his hands on his hips and his heart pounding so fast he was afraid he’d give himself cardiac trouble. It was almost like a panic attack, but worse because it wasn’t about him.
It was about Charlie.
As she had stood at the ledge, his mind had offered image after image of horror. They all included blood and gore, each one worse than the last. He had to force himself not to reach for her, to pull her away from that ledge.
Visions from his own fall mixed in with his macabre imagination, painting his own horrifying experience over Charlie’s face.
Except, nothing like that happened. She screamed as she jumped, yelling her face off. He wasn’t sure, but he might have caught a couple of woo-hoos in there.
When she’d stood there, staring at him, she’d been solid. He’d seen a lot of things in his life. He’d been a hotshot, facing wildfires that sometimes seemed to rage like the flames of hell. In the face of them, he’d been awestruck and afraid, almost equally. He’d watched men skydive and parachute. None of them had ever looked as contained as she did. Sure, there had been excitement and that nervous-fear buzz about her.
The core of Charlie was as strong as steel.
As she’d smiled at him before she jumped, he got the impression she was telling him something. Don’t be afraid, maybe. Or you got this.
All strapped into his harness, he glanced over the rail. Below, he could barely make her out, only the speck of her orange T-shirt.
Did she have fun? Did she hate it, wish he’d never suggested this? Wish he’d never dragged her into his messed-up plans in the first place? Think she’d be better off if he left her alone and stepped out of her life forever?
He wasn’t going to know unless he got down there and asked her.
“I’m ready,” he told the instructor. Was he? Who knew, but he wasn’t going to let himself stand there trapped in his own skull any longer. Time to face this head-on.
You’ll have to come down, then. Make sure I’m okay.
Stepping to the ledge, he focused on that, on getting to the bottom and checking on Charlie. His heart pounding, he swallowed to keep the bile from rising in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he jumped.
The rush was immediate. The dipping in his stomach, the flash of panic and exhilaration. He couldn’t help it; he opened his eyes, absorbing the sights around him.
And then there it was, taking him over, singing through him with a sweetness his body remembered but his mind had completely blocked. The peace. He’d forgotten all about that, the silence as he fell, the pureness of feeling at one with the air around him.
As the water rushed toward him, he had no idea if he’d been screaming the entire time, but he definitely was now as he decelerated at the end of the jump line.
The initial terror gone, he enjoyed the rest of his jump, even managing a few flips and twists, laughing the entire time.
When they unhooked him on the boat, he folded Charlie into a hug, laughing. The lightness, as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him, made him want to shout, to dance. He’d done it. He’d managed his first free fall since nearly dying.
If he could do this, maybe everything was going to be all right. Until he had stood on that ledge, he hadn’t realized how much he’d questioned his ability to get back up there, to parachute again. And if he couldn’t parachute, how would he get through smokejumper training?
But the bungee jump gave him hope. Maybe he could pick up with the rest of his life and pretend the last year of hellish rehab and mental uncertainty had never happened.
Charlie held on to him, and they did a sort of hug and jump combo, full of laughing and talking over each other.
“Did you see me?” she asked, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining. “I jumped off a bridge!”
“Yeah, you did. And screamed like you were on fire.” He laughed, but he couldn’t help noticing how well she wore exhilaration. As he held her, he also noticed
how well she fit against him. Charlie was petite and rounded in exactly the right spots. And with her dark, windblown curls and the excitement on her face, she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.
The air between them charged, and she stilled, shifting slightly away. But the smile remained on her face. “Yeah, well, you sounded like you were being murdered. I’m sure I was better than that.”
The additional space gave him much-needed perspective. What was he thinking? He’d told himself he would keep his distance from her, at least this kind of distance. Meg had made it clear that Charlie wasn’t interested in anything more than training.
He needed her to help him get past whatever mental constipation he was having about jumping.
She’d already helped, if today’s success was any indication. The least he could do was keep it professional. And stop noticing how great she made him feel and how gorgeous she looked.
As the boat took off toward the parking lot where a truck would return them to their cars, Charlie chattered about how exciting the jump had been and how much fun she’d had.
“So, when are you going to go again?” she asked, as they arrived at their cars.
“We just finished,” he said, laughing. But he didn’t have an answer. Was that a one-and-done reprieve? Was his hope that things were fine now misplaced? What if this entire exercise was a fluke, and the next time he got into the sky he’d be a bag of nerves again?
He shook his head, determined to leave those worries in the future. Right now, he needed to bask in this win. “Let me buy you breakfast?”
“Sold. I know just the place.”
* * * *
“I’m picking it up.” Hunter covered the check with his hand. The cashier, Emily, glanced at Charlie, wiggling her eyebrows with a quick grin before she turned to the next order. Charlie scowled after her. Since she came to this café all the time—it was three doors down from her office—the cashier knew her well enough to know she didn’t regularly share breakfast with hot guys.
Charlie rolled her eyes at him. “It’s smoothies. And a muffin.”
“I’m still covering it.” He swiped the receipt off the table, reaching for his wallet. “It’s the least I can do.”
“For what?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re already paying me to train you. So far, all I did was jump off a bridge. Not sure I’m being very helpful.”
He laughed but didn’t respond, only inserted his card into the payment pad and pushed a few buttons.
She’d brought up going for a run again when they had gotten to the smoothie place. He waved her off, telling her they could run tomorrow. When she pressed him for a time, he evaded: told her he had a meeting in the morning, something about lunch with his mom, and trailed off.
So he didn’t want her for running, something she was actually good at, but he did want her to go bungee jumping with him. Something she’d never done before.
It didn’t make sense.
As he held the door for her, stepping out of the smoothie shop, she paused on the sidewalk. “Seriously, Hunter. I don’t know that I helped at all.” She inhaled. “I almost feel bad taking any payment.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. This was incredibly helpful. I mean it.”
Inexplicably, she believed him. When they’d been standing on the ledge, she had wondered if he might not go through with the jump. Which was strange, because it had been his idea. Even when she was at the bottom, in the boat, she’d figured there was a good chance he might balk.
When he joined her, she’d been exhilarated, the remains of the adrenaline flooding her, causing her to ramble on. Now that she looked back, she didn’t think he’d been that happy. He’d only seemed relieved.
As she studied his face, she tried to figure out what she was missing. He’d needed to get back to jumping. But she couldn’t shake the impression that there was more to it than that. There was something he wasn’t telling her.
Finally, she shrugged. “Hey, fine with me. It’s your money.”
“Yes it is.” He chuckled.
Then his hand found the small of her back, and her concerns fled. The warmth of his fingers there settled her, anchoring her in her body somehow.
Absolutely not. Attaching any sort of warm fuzzies to Hunter Buchanan was strictly against the rules. Not only was she his trainer, but he was her friend’s brother. Meg was important to her. She didn’t have a lot of friends, so she wasn’t about to mess things up with one of the few she did have.
And mess things up was what she did. She’d chosen so badly the last time that she’d needed to skip town, stay in hiding.
That could not happen this time. So whatever strange wave of contentment and gooey feeling was going through her mind, she needed to nip that in the bud hard.
“I need your money.” A new voice cut into the confusion that had been swirling through her. It came from behind her, so she didn’t even see the girl who spoke at first. But Hunter must have, because he stiffened, shifting so fast she hardly saw him.
Standing on her tiptoes, she glanced around Hunter’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Only then did she see the gun. The woman holding it was emaciated, and her arm shook with the exertion it took to wield the weapon. She kept glancing around with wide eyes, vibrating with nervous energy. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks sunken and gaunt.
A drug addict.
“You have the money. I need it.” The woman shifted her weight, waving the weapon. “You have to give it to me. Now.”
“We don’t have any money.” Hunter’s voice was calm, low, but he pushed Charlie back and behind him, away from the weapon.
“No.” The woman’s voice bordered on hysteria. “You’re lying. He told me she had the money. That I needed to get it from her. I need it.” By the end of this tirade, her arm was shaking and she was screaming. Luckily, her increased volume came with additional scrutiny. Yelling permeated the fear coursing through Charlie, and she vaguely registered movement, running maybe. The other patrons must be figuring out what was going on. She wasn’t sure, though. There was a gun. Someone was pointing a gun at her. It was sleek, black, and large in the woman’s small hands. After all these years of hiding and playing it safe, everything had caught up with her.
“I need it. The money.” The woman advanced toward them, and Hunter shifted her, stepping back so quickly that he almost tripped her.
“Put the gun down!” The shout came from the opposite direction, across the street. “Get down, now!”
Sweet Lord, it was a cop. Charlie’s relief was so intense she almost crumbled under it. She shouldn’t be surprised. They were in downtown Bend, and the hospital wasn’t more than a few blocks away. Surely there would be police officers around.
“She has my money!” the woman yelled, pointing the gun in the air.
When it fired, the recoil surprised the woman, making her drop the gun on the ground. As she fell to her knees, crying, the police officer stormed forward, bringing her to the ground and whipping some handcuffs on her. Even as the policewoman restrained her, the addict struggled, her wild eyes on Charlie.
The entire time, she was screaming. “She has my money. She has it. I need it.”
Hunter’s arms enfolded Charlie, and only then did she realize she was quaking. She was thankful when he tightened his grip, holding her up. “I got you.”
The next minutes were a blur. The policewoman had called for backup, and it arrived almost immediately. Or maybe it didn’t. It could have taken longer. Charlie couldn’t tell through her disorientation.
Hunter sat her down at one of the outside tables at the smoothie shop. A cop asked her questions, but she didn’t start to feel more herself until Hunter pressed a cup of coffee in her hands. She sipped, and it warmed her.
“Did you know that woman?” Another cop sat next to her while a paramedic look
ed her over. When he stood, nodding at the policeman, he confirmed what she already knew: physically, she was fine.
Physically.
She shook her head. “No.” She glanced to where Hunter paced. He ran his hands over his hair. “You should check him out, too. This was scary for both of us.” He’d stood between her and a woman with a pistol. Surely he was disconcerted.
He paused his pacing to offer her a half grin. “I’m okay, Char.”
“You’re sure?” She narrowed her eyes on him.
The police officer interrupted them. “Miss Jones. You said you don’t know her.”
She forced herself to focus on the cop. “Yes. I mean, that’s correct. I don’t know her.”
The officer glanced between her and Hunter. “What did she say?”
“She kept going on and on about how I had her money.” Charlie didn’t understand what that meant. She wasn’t even carrying cash. She’d stuck her credit card in the pouch she’d attached to her phone case. “She isn’t well. Is she high? Medicated?”
“Meth,” Hunter offered.
During her schooling, she’d learned about methamphetamines. How they caused a lot of physical damage. How addicts would spend the rest of their addicted life craving that first, perfect high. How paranoid and erratic they could act. She’d never come across one before, though.
“Maybe that’s it, then. Maybe she thinks I’m someone else.” She swung her gaze between them, seeking reassurance. “If she was tweaking, she might have confused me with someone she knew, someone who owed her money or something.” Across the street, they were loading her into a police car and medics were checking her. She was flailing, obviously in distress. “Will they be able to ask her? When she calms down?”
The policeman closed his notepad, tucking it in his pocket, his mouth thin. “Don’t know. Maybe.” He sighed, and it was the sound of someone who had seen and heard too much. “Hey, if you want a ride to the hospital, I can drive you.”