Page 52 of The Roommate Remodel

“Three.” I rush the countdown and step off the platform before Brax.

For a second, his hand slips, and I plunge downward for a split second before the wire catches. But he’s lightning fast, securing my fingers at the last second. My stomach leaps into my throat as the wind smacks my face, leaving me breathless.

“Look at you!” Brax sounds as exhilarated as I feel flying.

When I realize I haven’t plummeted to my doom, my eyes flutter open. I watch as treetops fly past me. My heart hammers in my ears as I let out a whelp that sounds like a caged animal set free.

“Get ready for the landing,” Brax calls as we approach the next platform. I brace for impact and land less than gracefully in a half stumble, half fall. But Brax has my hand the whole time, steadying me as my legs wobble.

He was right. He never let go.

He unclips our harnesses before scooping me into his arms. “You did it!” Brax wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground in a total-body hug that feels like he could smother me with one enthusiastic squeeze.

“Brax. Breath. Please!” I squeak.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, putting me down gently. The giant of a man forgets his own strength. “Did you hit anything when you landed?”

“Feet are intact. Dignity... mostly so,” I add, trying to steady my breathing. His hug knocked what little breath I had out of me. Not just because he’s strong, but because it’shim.

“Mostlyis good enough for me.” He gives me a wide grin. “You surprised me. I didn’t think I was going to get you off the platform, and then you stepped off before I counted to three.”

I give him a playful smirk. “I was testing your reflexes.”

“I bolted off that platform like you were a loose puck in overtime.”

I wasn’t trying to make him work so hard to keep his promise. But something about his confession makes me unreasonably happy.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” I say softly.

He holds my gaze. “Always.”

His eyes stay locked on mine long enough that I look away first, glancing back at the chasm we’ve just crossed.

“Ready for the next one?” Brax’s hand hovers near my back, almost touching me. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll do something stupid, like step off again before remembering to clip my harness on.

I nod. “You were right. The first one is the hardest,” I admit with a satisfied grin as he clips me onto the next line.

The fear is still there, like a dull ache in my chest, but so is Brax. His confidence, his humor, his unwavering support.

He glances over, holding out his hand, a smile curving on one side of his lips. “This time, could you warn me if you’re going to jump early?”

“Shut up and push me,” I tease as I grab his hand again. We both step off together, my laugh catching on the wind as I soar through green canopies, the gentle hum of the line accompanying us.

I’ve let him see a part of me that nobody else gets access to—the fear I’ve stuffed down for so long. I’ve always held myself up as a survivor. I lost my mom young. When my parents divorced, I lost them again, in a different way. My dad chose to move away and cut off contact with Sloan and me. I suspect it’s because we remind him too much of Mom, and that, in its own way, is painful. My stepmom chose her new family after remarrying.

Where does that leave me?

Like many things in life, the choices we make out of fear and hurt have repercussions that last for years.

Instead of facing their demons, they ran away for reasons I’ll never understand.

But I’m not like them. I’m a survivor. And survivors face their fears.

Brax looks over at me and smiles.

My heart lands in my throat, and I’m almost choking on this happiness.

“You’re practically flying.” Brax’s voice cuts through the rush of air.

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