Page 145 of Twisted Collide

I jump up, and the heels on my ankle boots make a hammering sound.

Dane turns to face me, and I bat my lashes at him, hoping my antics will make him smile like it has in the past.

The man is a born protector. I see it every day from the way he plays hockey, how he took care of Molly, and how he never lets me walk on a ledge without his support.

This has to work.

“Josephine, I’m not in the mood.”

Not Hellfire. I’m not Hellfire anymore.

“No, clearly you’re not. But you need to talk tosomeone. Anyone. You can talk to me. Everyone needs help sometimes.” To make my point clearer, I raise my hands to my sides for balance. “Everyone needs support. We can support each other, Dane. Let me in. Let me help you walk the tightrope.”

I place one foot in front of the other and wait for him to stand beside me. To offer me his arm.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t even budge.

“Walk the tightrope with me, Dane.” I take another step. His eyes are still hollow, dark obsidian holes. “Let me in.”

Another step.

Motionless, he stands.

A statue.

A fortress I can’t penetrate.

Another inch, and then another.

My upper body wobbles as I try to steady myself.

He’ll reach out.

He always does.

Give him time. Help him break through the hurt that has him rooted in place.

One more step and my heel gets lodged, forcing my upper body to pitch forward.

He’ll reach out.

He’ll catch me.

But he doesn’t.

64

DANE

A scream pierces the air.

Time stands still. Everything happens exactly how they say it does in a movie. You see the moment of impact, but it can’t be stopped.

That’s how it feels as I watch Josephine careen to the ground. Her arms flail as she tries to regain her balance.

The ledge, which is only about two feet off the ground on one side of the concrete pavement, is actually higher on the other side, and that’s the side where her body is falling.

In the dark, she couldn’t see that the parking lot of the arena slopes back there. I thrust my arm out, trying desperately to stop her fall, but I’m too far away. My stubborn ass couldn’t give an inch.

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