Page 49 of The Roommate Remodel

“I tried, but you wouldn’t let me. And I’m the one who made you read to elementary students. I felt like I had something to prove.”

He reaches for my arm, and the warmth of his palm spreads through me. “You never have to prove anything with me,” he says, his tone softer. “We can always head back.”

“No,” I cut him off. “I’m not backing out. The other guys expect me to finish. I just need a minute to...” I peer over the edge, and my stomach hollows out. “Acclimate.”

Or lose my lunch.Could go either way.

“Take all the time you need,” Brax reassures me, stepping back to give me space.

I take in a deep breath, the smell of composting leaves and rotting wood heavy in the air. The breeze hits the sweat prickling on my neck.

I need to do this.Not just for the team, but for myself. I have to prove that I fit in here too, the same way Brax has. Just like college sororities have rush weeks where recruits have to prove they’re worthy, this one is mine.

“Okay,” I murmur, my stomach still churning. “Let’s do this before I chicken out.”

I peer up at the steel cables disappearing into a canopy of green.

The zip-line guide steps toward us, and Brax holds up a hand. “I’ve got this.” Then he turns toward me. “I’m going to take care of you up here. You know that, right?” He holds my gaze. “We will get through thistogether.”

I glance over at him and give a weak nod.

“Ever heard the zip-line mantra?” Brax asks, tilting his head with a glint in his eyes.

“Don’t die?” Ioffer.

“Close.” He grins. “Don’t think. Just close your eyes...and jump.”

“That sounds like what people who jump off bridges say.”

He chuckles. “This is safer. And I’m here to help you.” He holds up a harness that looks like a complicated medieval torture device. “As long as you’re attached to that wire, you’re totally safe.”

I give him a doubtful grimace. “Do the wires ever snap?”

“Humans are way too light.” Brax holds the harness for me as I slip my legs through the loops, then he pulls the straps snug around my waist. His hand grazes my side, gentle but precise, and a strange fluttering brushes my stomach, like butterfly wings.

It’s a welcome relief from the nausea I was feeling a minute ago.

“Let me check your helmet,” he commands.

“I buckled it.”

He arches an eyebrow. “It’s crooked. Let me fix it.”

I step closer to him and let him adjust it, even though it means he’s near enough to brush his fingers against my jaw where the buckle is, then along the side of my face. His eyes are focused on the helmet as he tightens the strap, while I try to avoid staring at him. It’s nearly impossible to keep my eyes off him, and they keep flicking back to his face, taking in the mossy green of his eyes, the scar above his eyebrow, the dark stubble of his jaw.

He gives a final tug to my helmet strap and his eyes meet mine. “Wouldn’t want this pretty head to get hurt,” he says with a smirk.

“Thanks,” I squeak, feeling my heart do that weird bouncing in my chest whenever he’s close. There are too many triggers up here. He’s touching me, making sure I’m safe. Then he calls mepretty.

“Don’t take another step,” he commands, pointing at my feet. “Your shoe’s untied.”

“Rookie mistake,” I say, trying to kneel. But my hands are shaking, and the harness is so tight, it’s almost impossible.

“Let me,” he offers, beating me to it.

“Brax, I can do it,” I insist. Why is he being so nice?

“Don’t argue with me, Princess.” He kneels, then pats his knee for me to lift my foot onto his leg, and I dutifully obey. “When I said I was going to take care of you, I meant it.”

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